Friday, 17 July 2009

London Calling

I don't quite know where to begin, such has been the level of activity in our hive of late. You may remember I mentioned a feeding assessment team in London. The very sensible developmental paediatrician in Galway had offered to refer us there last November. All very straight forward you might think. Yes very straight forward indeed. As with everything associated with the HSE, it took two visits 4 months apart, approx 662 phone calls, a small forest worth of paper work, 5 hours of misinformation, a bottle of gin (- mine -medicinal ), a very near urge to take up smoking after 9 years of abstinence, and a partridge in a pear tree to actually make it all happen.

A word to the wise here, if ever you are considering dealing with long term illness and the HSE, please, please go into training. Some ex-special forces type boot camp, with some serious 'what to do if you get captured in the desert by the other side' type psychological expertise thrown in. Without it, I fear you may crack at the first hurdle. As I have been doing HSE time for almost 6 years now, my energy is prone to the odd dip into despair. At just one such trough, the bloodhounds in Temple St, came charging down the hill to my aid. They got on the phone, they set up a rota, they badgered, they pestered, pleaded and I dare say even threatened until one day 3 weeks ago, an appointment was extracted at metaphorical gun point. It left me speechless, a rarity for me I can assure you.

We sprang into action, a scramble for the dog eared London A to Z. Pins were stuck in the Tube map, cross referencing address books to see who would be kind enough to put us up for the night. A plan percolated quite quickly. The other kidney was up to his eyes with work so another grown up had to be found to help with the journey. Auntie Mags, yet again stepped fearlessly up to the plate. (One of these days she's going to wise up; and we'll be in big trouble.)

So, on Tuesday, off we went, the 3 of us, on our adventure to see the nice man who was going to talk to Rory about eating with his mouth. Rory agreed to come along but was only going to give this nice man, a very brief moment of his time. Eating with his mouth, while still a hot topic of debate in our house, is paid only, lip service, by Rory!

He handled the journey with aplomb - a seasoned air traveler, the plane held little fascination even though it had jet engines and was actually leaving the country. This was nothing compared to the train that whisked us from the airport. It had conductors in uniform and a whistle at every station; now that was the epitome of cool.

I watched with wonder as he took all of this new environment in his stride, only complaining when we weren't seeing the nice man immediately we landed, as he was in a hurry to get back home.

We got to see the nice man, a gastroenterologist, and his team, a speech therapist, clinical psychologist and a dietitian, at midday on Wed. Rory showed his usual cool, interrupting the proceedings only occasionally to insist that we go to the airport, but generally charming the entire room.

I don't really know what I expected from the visit, I knew in my heart there was no magic bullet for this situation. I did wonder though, if there was something we hadn't tried. I also had very precise questions about Rory's motivation to eat and his ability to recognise hunger. It was really refreshing and comforting to sit in a room with people who see kids like Rory every day. They made no assumptions, no tut tutting, no; I can't classify him, so I should really concentrate on what he can't do instead of what he has achieved. None of the usual; I have no barometer with which to measure, so I'll just go and use the worst case scenario scale, the default setting.

They just agreed, concurred that yes this was all totally normal given his experience. They marvelled at what he has achieved. They gave some very helpful advice, explained some of the probable psychological processes going on for him right now and praised us all in how far we'd come. It was quite amazing really, they had so much faith in Rory, I was almost taken aback. I'm so used to having his shortcomings pointed out by therapists. They just confirmed my gut feelings - let him explore the world, let him get used to feeling well, and most importantly let him lead us.

I had been giving myself such a hard time that I hadn't been consistently working with food in a very structured manner. They understood the difficulties involved and suggested we work on the fly, choosing only activities that he enjoyed. No forcing, no reward system, no passivity. He has to learn to experience and enjoy tastes for himself, not to please someone else. It makes so much sense, I had always felt this but I was a lone voice here in the West.

Very interestingly, in light of last year's Enable Ireland fiasco, the gastroenterologist agreed that any investigations into his ability to swallow are pointless at this stage. We have no evidence to suggest there is a problem, and testing would be hugely traumatic. If you're reading this; Miss crazy lady speech therapist; can I just say, in as smug a tone as I can convey in writing?
I told you so!

I just hope that you are not still working with vulnerable kids, because it has taken me exactly one year, almost to the day, to prove the irrevocable damage you could have done to my son.

Next time you try to bully a parent, just remember you are only a Google search away from being found out.

You have been warned...