|The Impossible Child - Page 5|
I imagined that my life would be spent clearing a path for my son in this world. A path where he would not be penalized for his obstinance. But I didn't feel up to the job. I was tired of pushing him through each day, trying to keep him on track, telling him every step to take and then arguing with him about why he had to take it. How could I expect his teacher or anyone else to tolerate his constant resistance?
Near desperation, I followed a friend's suggestion and called her son, a newly licensed neuropsychologist with a small practice and time to talk. That conversation led me to a murky netherworld outside the DSM-IV, where I discovered alternative diagnoses such as nonverbal learning disabilities, regulatory disorders and sensory integrative dysfunction. I wasn't sure where we were headed, but I knew that the map I had been using for years as an expert on children and families couldn't get us to where we needed to go.
This is how we came to Rebecca. Cautiously. Skeptically, even. I knew that occupational therapists sometimes worked collaboratively with psychologists; yet, in five years as a staff psychologist at one of the leading pediatric hospitals in the country and eight years in private practice, I had never met an OT. I had a vague notion that they helped babies with feeding problems, children with fine-motor delays and survivors of traumatic injury. What was an OT going to do for my precocious, uncooperative son?
In my first conversation with her, I sensed that Rebecca knew something about Evan that I didn't know. She was the first person who suggested that he wanted to please me, but couldn't. That in most situations he was doing his best. That many things that seemed simple and reasonable to me were, in fact, impossible for him. That there might be reasons for everything he did--and didn't do. That there was help.