We knew it was coming. Allie's doing really well and has a great private team in place. But ending services just feels so... unknown.
For the last three years, we have seen assorted physical, occupational, developmental, massage, speech, and vision therapists on almost a weekly basis. Three years. It makes me pause and reflect upon how quickly time really has passed.
Our physical therapist has been with us since the very beginning. She reminded me recently how Allie used to hate her. I had honestly forgotten because their relationship is great now but Allie did indeed cry her way through the vast majority of their early sessions. It was so bad that Allie would burst into sobbing tears as soon as she saw the PT. I don't know how she stuck with us but we're glad she did.
We've received occupational therapy through a number of therapists, but the our current OT has been with us for nearly two years and is so impressed with all that Allie can do. I really hope to one day see our first OT who encouraged us to quit therapy because, she said, Allie would never use her right hand in a meaningful way. I wish she could see her now. There was also the young OT who worked with us temporarily but she sat in the corner of our playroom and colored by herself. It was weird.
Our developmental therapist was always helpful and encouraging, in spite of the fact that I never once remembered she was coming. This woman must have thought I was so disorganized as I answered the door with a surprised and slightly panicked look every other week.
And there is our ever chipper speech therapist who declared herself Allie's "academic adviser" so that Allie would still qualify for therapy services for a little longer. Once Allie had met all of her speech goals and was scoring age appropriately on everything, I'm pretty sure we were supposed to get kicked out. We definitely appreciated the academic advising for our three year old; plus one for competitive parenting.
Then there was the massage therapist who was secretly a social worker. I think that is the most brilliant way to get a family engaged with an otherwise stigmatized profession. I can imagine being a little defensive if I knew that we were being evaluated by a social worker. Very sneaky indeed.
And, lastly, the vision therapist who occasionally evaluated Allie to check for vision impairment. The therapist was partially vision impaired and, even though she told me which eye I should look into when we talk, I forgot and then felt like jerk every time we met. In spite of my own issues, she was always very reassuring and comforting. Something about her always made me feel like a potential visual field cut isn't so bad because Allie's doing so well.
They will be missed.
In their honor, I'd like to present our contender for the most awkward sibling photo ever taken.
|Could they like each other any less?|
At least the individual photos were cute.