We met a really nice Paediatrician last week. She has a special interest in developmental delay. Naturally, Rory charmed her instantly. After patiently listening to his encyclopedic medical history, she asked us why he wasn't under the care of CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services). She was too polite to suggest the equivalent grown up agency for his mother! I drew in a deep breath, became the very embodiment of the word CAMH. I visualized all those CAMHS referral letters floating off into a balmy spring breeze in an effort to steady myself before I answered. (It's my new tactic to try to minimize wear and tear on my hip, when I shoot from it!)
I looked her square in the eye and told her that according to his psychologist, he has an IQ on a par with that of a slightly under done Brussels Sprout, and therefore, officially intellectually disabled, thus putting him beyond the remit of CAMHS. Meanwhile Rory was camhly wading his way through her wallet and correctly identifying all of her credit cards! Sensible woman that she was, she replied, even more camhly, and without flinching, 'we might get a second opinion'. I was impressed, cool, camh, collected and talking sense where had they been hiding her all these years?
Could this be progress? Must not get excited, must stay camh, must stay camh...