I love being organized. Few things bring me as much pleasure as a neatly organized three ring binder. Fresh sheet protectors, labeled tabs... aaahhh... Crossing something off my To-Do list is right up there too.
Right now, the To-Do list and three ring binder situation is half-assed at best. I went to Office Max last week and very excitedly walked up and down the binder aisle. I was thrilled to see a whole new line of organizing supplies! Yipee! With Ellie's Light getting started up, I was going to need some supplies! I stocked up and went home.
Then I realized I needed stuff to put in those binders. That's a whole different story. Right now, there are just stacks of papers, well, everywhere. So into the pink binder went a copy of the Name Reservation Form for Ellie's Light. I sort of lost interest then...
And then it kind of hit me... oh yeah, that autism thing! Crap! It's not just gonna get itself organized! Did you know that when your child gets referred to the school district for autism assessment and they "diagnose" your child, that's it. You don't get some handbook of what to do next and you certainly don't get some Autism Assistant to help you research EVERYTHING!
I love our pediatrician and the people at Max's school but they aren't that helpful. They can't "officially" recommend anything besides themselves. Which is a good start. BUT then you start doing a little reading and you quickly learn that if you don't get it together STAT, your child is screwed. And it's all your fault for not reading every single piece of research out there- whether it's a bunch hooey or not.
There's OT, PT, speech, nutritionists, dietitians, art therapists, music therapists, sensory integration peeps, gastroenterologists, neurologists, social workers, allergy specialists, immunologists, osteopaths. There's ABA, RDI, DIR peeps. Psychologists, psychiatrists, horse therapists, swim therapy, DAN! pracitioners, advocacy groups, support groups, support dogs... Where the hell is the MY specialist?! Don't I get peeps?!
Today I spent over two hours online reading. And reading, and reading. Looking for therapy centers and reliable, reputable programs. I found a lot of promising programs and started to feel like maybe this was controllable. Maybe I could have my three ring binder in good shape by the end of the week... HA!
Then we tried to check out the insurance website. I should have known. I got way to cocky. Leave it to the insurance company to knock me down a notch or two. I couldn't find anything. Nothing. I'm going to have to call. Ugh!! This is the part where I throw myself on the floor and start kicking and screaming. I hate calling them. We were able to avoid it with all Ellie's stuff. But now I am going to have to call. GAME ON MEDICA!
I should have been having this panic attack months ago. But bigger and badder (yes, badder is a word) panic attacks budged in line. Max needs me to get these damn ducks in a row.
Dave is going to come home one night soon and I will be buried under a pile of three ring binders, sheet protectors, highlighters, post-its and To-Do list. Horribly bad hold music will be blaring from my phone while I wait for a receptionist to come back on the line and tell me that Therapist So-and-So can't see us for another three months... And Max will be jumping up and down on the couch saying over and over again, "I'm a baby buzzy bee!"
|My Baby Buzzy Bee|