It’s been 3 months and 10 days since Jack came home. It’s been 3 months since he had his Early Intervention Evaluations. He qualified for vision therapy and occupational therapy 2x a week. We have an Occupational Therapist all ready to go. I’ve spoken with her. She sounds lovely and lives around the corner from us. But Dude? We do not have any fucking paperwork.
Have you noticed the cursing?
It could easily be my fault. We were assigned a random Early Intervention Center when we left the NICU and I (naively) thought that all centers were the same. Not true. The center we were assigned to was dirty and grim and had only 1 occupational therapist on call and was just plain old lousy with answering my questions. And our service coordinator, while sweet, is about 10 years old.
So I started the process to switch centers. And now our motherfucking paperwork is sitting on some motherfucking paper pusher’s desk and has been for the past 20 days. Today I had a meltdown on the phone with the head of Early Intervention for NYC.
Why the sense of urgency you wonder? Well, our big city hospital does not have a preemie developmental follow-up clinic. Something most major hospitals have. I suspect it went the way of the ante partum floor and the top notch nursing staff…lost to budget cuts. Basically, when they discharge you, you’re left to fend for yourself – winding your way through a true maze of government and private services, evaluations and roadblocks. Every single piece of information I’ve read says that the earlier your child is in therapy (good therapy mind you), the better they do. The other advantage of regular occupational therapy is that you have someone available to ask questions “is this normal? He does this – what do you think?” Right now all I have available to me is a bunch of harpies.
I am back at work now, but I seem to be spending an awful lot of time calling government officials, doctor’s offices and insurance companies. My husband wonders why I am grumpy and I am wondering just how long I can possibly keep my shit together. I am also left wondering: Is drinking during the work day as politically incorrect as drinking at a playgroup?
Updated before I even got to post… **Tonight (on a friday night! of a long weekend!), our paperwork is being faxed… Whoever said you catch more bees with honey doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.**
