“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do for your daughter.”
Although I should have seen it coming, this comment as we were leaving the office of the counselor M and I have been seeing for the past year felt like a stab in the heart.
“I am going to make some calls, talk to some people about her symptoms and get her in to the best specialist I can find as soon as possible. I promise to call you soon.”
The silver lining, a life line for me to hold on to, a ray of hope that SOMEONE out there can help her.
It was just such a painful evening.
“I think her diagnosis is wrong, she needs to see a doctor who specializes in autistic children. Her current symptoms and behaviors make me think she is more severe than mild Asperger’s.”
“I don’t know how you’ve done it for 2 months.”
“As much as I know you don’t want to, she needs medication. Soon.”
“I’m not sure how they’re going to diagnose, because she can’t participate in the tests when she’s like this.”
“In all my experience I’ve never treated a child who talked about death so much. That really has me worried.”
“I don’t know if she can go to school in the fall…they won’t be equipped to handle this behavior.”
Beyond the words, which I know were
spoken in truth and caring from our wonderful counselor, M’s behavior was as bad as it has ever been. She tried running away constantly from the time we got there. She made it to the parking lot, twice. She constantly screamed at the top of her lungs. She shouted things like “I hate you” and “you’re stupid” to both of us, but mostly “get me out of here, I want to go home”. She could not listen to anything anyone was saying to her. She did this the entire hour & even after we left.
Then, there was the aggession…
Tearing up papers, trying to knock over & throw everything in the office, kicking the windows trying to break them open to get out.
Hitting me, biting me, kicking me, head butting me and choking me.
I did have in in the “safety” basket hold, but I kept letting her go because I couldn’t bear hearing her scream that I was hurting her, even though I knew I wasn’t. But every time I loosened my grip she would attack me in attempt to get away. She was a cornered animal. I was scared and sad and hurt for her.
Eventually on the way home the ipod playing Beatles through her headphones calmed her down. Somewhat. For a while.
Hopefully we get our referral to a great neuropsychologist very soon, and can get a good, final diagnosis and get her on medication that will help. Prayers much appreciated!