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The time finally came for Johnathon to have his last follow-up appointment since his brain tumor surgery with the neurologist. He was given a CT scan and a complete physical examination to see how he was progressing. We talked about his motor skills, comprehension, and how he was coming along socially. We talked about his progress of learning to ride a bike with out training wheels. (After seeing kids on the playground at school with out training wheels he was very determined to do the same.) We also talked about his rocking. When he would be seated, he was in the habit of rocking; so much that he had rocked loose a few of my kitchen table chairs. The doctor asked us if we have ever heard of Asperger’s syndrome, which we hadn’t. He was thinking that Johnathon may have it. He gave us some information about it but said he was not ready to give him that diagnosis right away. The diagnosis was not as simple as a blood test, so he wanted to wait another year or so to see how Johnathon continued to progress. Since we had no more follow up appointments with the neurologist, the possible Asperger’s syndrome diagnosis would be followed up on with one of his other doctors.
I didn’t waste any time reading over the information. When I was reading the pamphlet, it was as if I was reading about Johnathon, not Asperger’s syndrome. I kept reading with a sigh of relief…it has a name…it’s not because I am somehow a bad parent doing something wrong…we finally know what it is. I knew it wasn’t a matter of “if” he had Asperger’s syndrome. It was just a matter of when the diagnosis would be official.
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You know, I am almost envious of parents who are raising children with “issues” and those issues don’t just present themselves mentally but they also present themselves physically. When you see a child with visible physical differences act immaturely or inappropriately, it is a lot more socially acceptable. It’s easier to understand, there’s not judgment or looking down ones nose at the situation. When you have a child that on the outside looks just like everyone else and the way they act does not seem to fit the mold, there is a whole different set of expectations. There is a double standard that only a parent who has walked in my shoes could truly understand. That kid is rebellious, or if his parents would have been a little stricter he would know how to act, or this or that…..
I can’t count the times I have dropped my son off at school and then cried all the way home. I cry because I don’t know how to help him. I cry because no matter how many times I try to help him “get it” he just doesn’t. I cry because I have a twelve year old son, who looks sixteen, who has the maturity level of an eight year old.
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