A few years back we brought old Theo to the OT for an evaluation. We had self-diagnosed some sensory-seeking behavior and thought that for the sake of any future partner of Theo, we should find some ways for him to self-medicate. Either that or he is going to figuratively, and possible literally, suffocate someone. He likes to be in contact with others. Those others can be rabbits, or parents, or a relunctant brother, or the ground, or a hammock, or a leaf pile. What would send me into the outer orbits of sensory overload seems to not faze Theo in the least.
His brother seems to have staked out ground at the other end of this particular spectrum. This becomes most clear when you take the two of them to a beach. Eli emerges from the car fully encased in shoes and socks. He tiptoes down to the water's edge then tries to balance on a towel, or a magazine, or any other availbable piece of non-sand real estate as he carefully removes his footware and then leaps into the water, thus neatly avoiding any unwanted sand contact. Then there is Theo. He rolls out of the car barefoot and strides across the beach until gravity gets the best of him and he can take the temptation no more. He lays down, rolls, gets sand into every crevice, rubs it on his arms, and smiles wide. If he goes in the water, it's only to get wet and then restart the rolling game, this time with sand that will stick.
Anyway- after 7 or so years of observing Theo and his sensory-seeking ways, we got him evaluated. He came out just about where we suspected, but apparently not far enough down the conintuum to warrant therapy with a professional. We were sent on our way with a regime of home-care technigues. Which we faithfully undertook, For at least two weeks. Then Theo seemed a bit better and our lives got real busy. Nothing else was said about the matter until last spring. School started to produce some serious anxiety in the kid. His handwriting was getting to the point where even he could not read it. And he felt out of sorts. He started asking for a return to the OT. And Jon and I agreed that it was a good idea. Only our follow through was lacking. It is a difficult system to negotiate, what with referrals and networks and waitlists. But Theo was persistent and just after the start of the school year we returned to a different office for a fresh eval.
This time, the sensory stuff was even closer to normal, but other interesting things turned up. The OT identified a pretty severe lack of balance, a weak core, limited cross-body coordination. Add to this some kind of vision issue that involves an inability to focus over a center line, and my spirit gets bogged right down. All of these things seem to be related to his history of 20 ear infections in the first 20 years of his life. Not sure if it's about the scarred, damaged, inner ear, or the steady diet of antibiotics throughout his infancy. In any case, the OT was amazed at Theo's coping techniques. Seems as if he has created a whole system to deal with his deficiencies- so much so that he functions very well. Only it comes at great effort to the kid. It broke my heart when the OT suggested that Theo's energy output needed to carry out functions such as handwriting was about 180% that of another kid. And to think of all the times we've told him to try harder. Now that the OT has pointed it out, if you watch the guy while he's at some task, the effort is wholly obvious in the mouth movements, the tongue, the twisting body, tapping feet, near whole body contortions. And this is just the effort he puts into something such as using a fork. This evaluator recommended an immedaite diet of one hour of OT a week, and Theo whole heartedly agreed to give it his best effort. On the way home from that first appointment Theo buckled himself into the backseat with a happy sigh. He said, "Thanks Mom for taking me. It feels really good to be getting some help with this." His relief was palpable. And the changes that have come with only 4 sessions at the OT are fairly outrageous.
I always bring a book to the sessions, thinking I will read. Instead I watch in awe as the OT puts Theo through his paces, always anticipating his reaction to a certain task and then helping him readjust. One hour wears the kid out, but the therapist says she's not only working his muscles, but rewiring his brain, and it is an exhausting process. I think it seems a bit like voodoo, but as long as it keeps working, we will keep taking this medicine.
Theo is thriving. And after the last session I got this in the car on the way home: "You know Mom, I think I have FINALLY figured out what I want to do with my life. I'm going to be an OT". I like that at 9 he has finally figured out his life's path. To think of all that time wasted in elementary school, flirting with different professions. It's about high time he settles down and gets serious about his future!
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