Sorry no pictures. Our desktop computer died a few days ago, so I'm stealing a rare moment on Mike's laptop. I don't have time to download photos here though, because it's 1 a.m., and I need to start timesheets/invoices and I'm sick and just want to go to bed.
But I had to pop in, because I took Joan to her first little preschool play group on Friday, and she did AWESOME! I was so proud of her. It was her and two other kids - both largely with speech delays, so both were walking. They structured it like a little tiny preschool session, with circle time and set activities. Joan LOVED circle time! they had a little tiny parachute, and she made it go up and down on command - she even got to scoot underneath it, which made her giggle. She giggled with delight all the way through ring around the rosie, and played along with all the actions. She shocked her PT all to bits by putting her hand in her PT's, and asking to go around again. In a normal session, she won't let her PT touch her. She had so much fun! She was the only kid who made it through without a single tantrum or all-out meltdown. One of the speech pathologists running it said she has an impressive attention span - she can stay on task for a very long time, which she said will serve her well, by allowing more learning opportunities than her peers.
So all in all a great thing for her. I was so worried about her, but I guess it was a very small group, in a familiar setting, with a few familiar faces, and it was a very inclusive environment, so it was a good experience for her. The other kids even inspired her to walk about without her walker for a few minutes! Yay! Can't wait for next Friday!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Thursday, January 08, 2009
we're back..we're alive...and we're swamped!
Just checking in - we've been back from Christmas holidays for a few days now, and are settling back in to a flurry of activity.
First and foremost, we're getting geared up for the arrival of Billy, Mike's brother-in-law, who's starting his new job as a hospital security guard out here in Calgary, to be followed shortly by Vicki, and all their stuff and cats.
Then, there's appointments up the wazoo. I'm feeling overwhelmed just thinking about it. On top of all the normal appointments, of physio and Dave's vaccines and check-ups, which are done on separate days by separate people here in alberta - we have a bunch of new stuff coming up for Joan.
In the next few weeks, she has: a pediatric check-up, an opthmology test (to check for blind spots and other abnormalaties the stroke may have caused in her vision), a new pre-school-type play group for kids like her the therapists have set up. (She starts on Jan 23, and it runs every two weeks for 10 weeks.) Then, we have real preschool to sort out. Ugh. They have a funding program, and several special needs preschools in Calgary that Joan can join. It's the next logical step in her therapy. But we have to start now to get her into a school for this upcoming September. There's an information night next week. Then, we need to register in February. Then, the assessments start, to try to qualify her for funding. It gives preference to cognitive and speech delays, over physical problems, because bright and communicative kids do fine in school, whether they're able bodied or physically disabled. It's an intensive school-readiness program, and it rolls all the social aspects of pre-school with all the therapy she needs, all in one place. If she doesn't qualify for the funding, they have a hospital program, but it's much less intensive - once a week, instead of every day. So we were told, half-jokingly, to lay off speech work, so she'll fail her speech assessment. Luckily, it's an assessment I'm not involved in, so she'll likely go mute and stare blankly, like she normally does to all therapists and doctors, ensuring us a fully-funded spot in a top-ranked facility. (They test that way, because they need to see how they'll react in a school environment, away from mom and dad. The test we did before, which showed her only mildly delayed, was a questionaire answered by me, on the best of her abilities under ideal conditions.)
Should be an exciting few weeks and months, for sure! Not to mention next September, when John starts Kindergarten in public school...and Joan's halfway across town in her special therapy preschool. A logisitical nightmare, for sure. Have I ever mentioned how happy I am that I'm not working right now? I don't know how I'd juggle all of this with a full-time job. Now THAT would be a logistical nightmare! The only part I'm looking forward to is the little group class for Joan. She's so painfully shy, and I think she's feeling the social affects of being behind her peers. We took the kids to a playplace at McDonalds the other day. Joan has trouble getting up the slide by herself, and adults generally can't get up in the tubes (though, Uncle Billy proved THAT wrong! LOL! I wish I had a camera as he squeeeeezed his way out. He was probably close to needing to be cut out of there, but Joan appreciated a chance to go down the slide.) Anyway, we were there again, and Joan was scootching around, playing with the stuff near the floor. Then, a little girl walked up to her and said "What are you doing? Why don't you stand up?" She didn't mean anything malicious about it. It was just innocent curiosity, without a "politically correct" filter. But I think Joan took it the wrong way, because her lip started quivering, and she started to sob sad sobs, and refused to play again. It was heartbreaking. Then, we were at the gym (we got me a membership at Mike's gym, to try to lose my stockpile of baby weight) and we put all three kids in the childcare room. We figured it would be good for John to get some exercise, and good for Joan to socialize a little. Well, when I picked them up, I found Joan, in the middle of the room, all alone save for a tiny toy bulldozer, with face buried in her hands. It was a sad, sad sight. I think it was partially the caregiver, who was very young, likely untrained, and clearly not sure what to make of her. She actually recoiled when I expained the stroke. I almost told her not to worry, it isn't contagious. But I let it go. A playgroup of other delayed toddlers, run by a team of therapists, is bound to be a more rewarding social outlet for her. She'll be on par with the other kids, and the leaders will know how to make it a good time for all. After that runs, they're thinking of bumping her into a group with other kids with hemiplegia - which is just the fancy word for a weak side. But they don't want to start her there, because those kids are all closer to three and up, and are all walking and talking, so she might feel left out. The group she's in is kids with both speech and various motor delays, including some younger kids, so they think it won't be quite as overwhelming for her to start with, considering how shy she is.
Apart from that, she has her new brace, which keeps her fingers splayed. it's pretty cool. it just supplements the other braces. She only needs it on about 20 minutes a day, only when we do loadbearing activities. They also want to lobby her orthopidic team for botox injections. That works by relaxing the tense muscles - in her case, her bicep, and the mescles that contract her fingers - followed by about three months of intensive therapy to strengthen the opposing muscle, which is her tricep, so it has an easier time competing against the tone, after the botox wears off. Does that make sense to anyone but me? I feel like I'm going to start breaking into hemiplegia lingo, and lose you all. Anyway, they can generally only get approval if there's a measurable goal. They think they're going to go to them and lobby for it on the grounds that Joan can't open containers on her own, like ziplock bags, or tupperware, to access food, and these injections will increase her independence. We have to try to think up several things she can't do to take to the orthopedic doctors in charge of her case.
Oh, I almost forgot about David! (ah, welcome to being the third kid, Dave.) He had a check-up just today. He's an ounce shy of 14 pounds, so growing slower than the other two, but still right on track with normalacy. Doc said he's a great size, and everything looks fantastic! He gave the Doc lots of smiles, and the Doc told John that David really liked him, because he looked in his direction and smiled everytime he spoke, which tickled John pink.
Anyway, I had better go. John's telling me not to look at something he's done, so I had better go see what horror he's created. I'll be posting pictures of the trip soon, so check back now and then!
First and foremost, we're getting geared up for the arrival of Billy, Mike's brother-in-law, who's starting his new job as a hospital security guard out here in Calgary, to be followed shortly by Vicki, and all their stuff and cats.
Then, there's appointments up the wazoo. I'm feeling overwhelmed just thinking about it. On top of all the normal appointments, of physio and Dave's vaccines and check-ups, which are done on separate days by separate people here in alberta - we have a bunch of new stuff coming up for Joan.
In the next few weeks, she has: a pediatric check-up, an opthmology test (to check for blind spots and other abnormalaties the stroke may have caused in her vision), a new pre-school-type play group for kids like her the therapists have set up. (She starts on Jan 23, and it runs every two weeks for 10 weeks.) Then, we have real preschool to sort out. Ugh. They have a funding program, and several special needs preschools in Calgary that Joan can join. It's the next logical step in her therapy. But we have to start now to get her into a school for this upcoming September. There's an information night next week. Then, we need to register in February. Then, the assessments start, to try to qualify her for funding. It gives preference to cognitive and speech delays, over physical problems, because bright and communicative kids do fine in school, whether they're able bodied or physically disabled. It's an intensive school-readiness program, and it rolls all the social aspects of pre-school with all the therapy she needs, all in one place. If she doesn't qualify for the funding, they have a hospital program, but it's much less intensive - once a week, instead of every day. So we were told, half-jokingly, to lay off speech work, so she'll fail her speech assessment. Luckily, it's an assessment I'm not involved in, so she'll likely go mute and stare blankly, like she normally does to all therapists and doctors, ensuring us a fully-funded spot in a top-ranked facility. (They test that way, because they need to see how they'll react in a school environment, away from mom and dad. The test we did before, which showed her only mildly delayed, was a questionaire answered by me, on the best of her abilities under ideal conditions.)
Should be an exciting few weeks and months, for sure! Not to mention next September, when John starts Kindergarten in public school...and Joan's halfway across town in her special therapy preschool. A logisitical nightmare, for sure. Have I ever mentioned how happy I am that I'm not working right now? I don't know how I'd juggle all of this with a full-time job. Now THAT would be a logistical nightmare! The only part I'm looking forward to is the little group class for Joan. She's so painfully shy, and I think she's feeling the social affects of being behind her peers. We took the kids to a playplace at McDonalds the other day. Joan has trouble getting up the slide by herself, and adults generally can't get up in the tubes (though, Uncle Billy proved THAT wrong! LOL! I wish I had a camera as he squeeeeezed his way out. He was probably close to needing to be cut out of there, but Joan appreciated a chance to go down the slide.) Anyway, we were there again, and Joan was scootching around, playing with the stuff near the floor. Then, a little girl walked up to her and said "What are you doing? Why don't you stand up?" She didn't mean anything malicious about it. It was just innocent curiosity, without a "politically correct" filter. But I think Joan took it the wrong way, because her lip started quivering, and she started to sob sad sobs, and refused to play again. It was heartbreaking. Then, we were at the gym (we got me a membership at Mike's gym, to try to lose my stockpile of baby weight) and we put all three kids in the childcare room. We figured it would be good for John to get some exercise, and good for Joan to socialize a little. Well, when I picked them up, I found Joan, in the middle of the room, all alone save for a tiny toy bulldozer, with face buried in her hands. It was a sad, sad sight. I think it was partially the caregiver, who was very young, likely untrained, and clearly not sure what to make of her. She actually recoiled when I expained the stroke. I almost told her not to worry, it isn't contagious. But I let it go. A playgroup of other delayed toddlers, run by a team of therapists, is bound to be a more rewarding social outlet for her. She'll be on par with the other kids, and the leaders will know how to make it a good time for all. After that runs, they're thinking of bumping her into a group with other kids with hemiplegia - which is just the fancy word for a weak side. But they don't want to start her there, because those kids are all closer to three and up, and are all walking and talking, so she might feel left out. The group she's in is kids with both speech and various motor delays, including some younger kids, so they think it won't be quite as overwhelming for her to start with, considering how shy she is.
Apart from that, she has her new brace, which keeps her fingers splayed. it's pretty cool. it just supplements the other braces. She only needs it on about 20 minutes a day, only when we do loadbearing activities. They also want to lobby her orthopidic team for botox injections. That works by relaxing the tense muscles - in her case, her bicep, and the mescles that contract her fingers - followed by about three months of intensive therapy to strengthen the opposing muscle, which is her tricep, so it has an easier time competing against the tone, after the botox wears off. Does that make sense to anyone but me? I feel like I'm going to start breaking into hemiplegia lingo, and lose you all. Anyway, they can generally only get approval if there's a measurable goal. They think they're going to go to them and lobby for it on the grounds that Joan can't open containers on her own, like ziplock bags, or tupperware, to access food, and these injections will increase her independence. We have to try to think up several things she can't do to take to the orthopedic doctors in charge of her case.
Oh, I almost forgot about David! (ah, welcome to being the third kid, Dave.) He had a check-up just today. He's an ounce shy of 14 pounds, so growing slower than the other two, but still right on track with normalacy. Doc said he's a great size, and everything looks fantastic! He gave the Doc lots of smiles, and the Doc told John that David really liked him, because he looked in his direction and smiled everytime he spoke, which tickled John pink.
Anyway, I had better go. John's telling me not to look at something he's done, so I had better go see what horror he's created. I'll be posting pictures of the trip soon, so check back now and then!
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