Tuesday, April 19, 2011

PT, Day One.

We had Noah's physical therapy evaluation today. That was...fun. If you will remember, and as I have whined about a number of times on this here blog, we had Noah evaluated by the state back in late November for potential complications from The Fracture (PTSD, GO AWAY).  He didn't qualify outright for state services but we learned a lot about some of his delays and coordination "concerns". And by learned a lot I mean we started noticing that he was having trouble climbing, running, jumping, etc. At the time, the state therapists thought we could take a wait and see approach to his delays...give him some time to catch up to his peers and have his teachers keep him active and moving. A couple of weeks ago his teachers approached us with concerns that he was falling farther behind rather than catching up. They spend the most active time with him so we knew we had to figure this out sooner than later. Two days later we had scheduled his evaluation with the PT department at Children's Memorial Hospital (they really are fantastic).

Cut to today and a confusing evaluation, even by the therapists' standards. Noah is jumping, climbing and walking just fine, a little weakness in his left side was noticed but nothing that extra time at the playground and being active at home couldn't help. However, as soon as they asked him to run, and oh he tried so hard it brought tears to my eyes, he was failing on all counts. He's throwing out his left leg. He can't run straight to save his life. He looks like he's in PAIN when he runs but when asked if it hurts, he says no. I believe him. The PTs were confused, we were confused, and Noah just wanted to go back and play with the cars. How can he climb, jump and walk with such normalcy but when it comes to running everything just falls apart? It's strange.

We go back next week for a more in depth evaluation and hopefully the PTs will be able to come up with a plan to help Noah, to help us. I know he'll be just fine and when I look at him I see so much happiness and joy in his face. My boy is special, we already know that, and perfect just the way HE is.


Side note: I spent about a half hour in the waiting room by myself while Tim and Noah were on their way to the appointment. I observed babies with helmets, toddlers with braces on their legs, and kids in wheelchairs. Our little problem with running is NOTHING compared to what these families deal with and overcome on a daily basis. My heart went out to them and to these kids who are amazing. I know we're lucky. Very lucky.


k said...

You know, I feel the same way when we go to the myriad of Iris'weekly PT and OT and speech/feeding appointments. I see so many reminders of What Could Have Been.

And, yet, I'm sure those parents and caregivers have seen worse too, right? And they're happy with their small one and his/her accomplishments?

It's a circle of feeling scared, feeling worried, looking at others, feeling blessed.

bessie.viola said...

I'm glad that Noah is getting the help he needs. It's hard to deal with; I remember the way I struggled when Madeline needed physical therapy, yet like you I was always *very* grateful in that waiting room that our problems were so very minor and small and temporary.

Jessica said...

While it obviously could be much worse, it still sucks you guys have to go through this. I'm sorry.

Nilsa @ SoMi Speaks said...

For the 5 weeks we were in the NICU, I repeated that mantra over and over again. Perspective is everything.

Hang in there. Hopefully they'll learn more about Noah's condition soon and you'll be well on your way towards a remedy. xoxo

samantha said...

At in the elevator how the signs say not to discuss anything because of what other people are going through? That made me cry when we were there because yeah, you could be so happy with your prognosis and the person next to you. . .could have heard very different news.

Hugs to you guys. At least you're on a path to find answers!