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I call bullshit
OKAY.
To bring everyone up to speed: for the past ... oh, two fucking years, I have been requesting a feeding assessment because of Sean's recalcitrance to take a cup, difficulty with food textures, etc. And I think the best they did so far was to have some speech-language-feeding-pathologist come by and watch him eat and pat us on the head and tell us we worry too much.
Today I get an email from the most recent SLP (the old one is off on maternity leave - this new one sounds like she's about fourteen, I swear) saying 'oh, you might want to get your doctor to recommend a BARIUM SWALLOW to make sure that the reason isn't that fluid is going into Sean's LUNGS. Here's where you buy thickening stuff. "
WTF?
And then I phone the SLP, and I talk to her, and she tells me that 'oh, yeah - you know the fact that he won't eat anything that isn't moist? That you have to cover everything in either yogurt or tomato sauce (high quality tomato sauce - the kid loves roasted garlic, he obviously takes after mom and dad)? That he won't eat crackers, but will eat banana bread? Yeah, those are signs of swallowing problems. You might want to get that looked at."
*fume*
THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO SAY ALL ALONG! YOU FUCKING DINGBATS!
If I find out that this could have been dealt with before ... oh yes. Someone's head is going to roll.
We had one of those awesome three minute downpours earlier. I had a cat on my legs (Silk, for a change) and was reading a good book. Life is fine, even if I am neglecting my novel.
I have new headpeople, totally unrelated to the novel. Right.
Time to go get the boy.
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When D was diagnosed as high-functioning autistic, I went and told the district director of special ed, who said "Yes, the speech and language person thought that was probably the case." And he hadn't told me she thought that -- we would have spent less time futzing around looking at other things.
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