I was ill-prepared for our hospital visit, even though it’s been scheduled for six weeks, and I’ve spent the last sixteen months trying to get us there. So this morning found us racing out of the house while neglecting to roll the trash to the curb and I couldn’t find any of the three books I’m in the middle of reading and I foolishly decided against bringing my laptop along and the husband fell asleep next to me in the waiting room so I had no choice but to peruse the shiny-happy-people parenting magazines that, no matter how much I scorn them, always manage to make me feel inadequate somehow. Deep breath. But the little man, he was great. He waltzed into the psychological services office, happily taking stock of their toy selection. When he was introduced to Julie, who would be handling his neuropsych assessment, he greeted her in a friendly manner and willingly walked into her office, while the husband and I headed to the Family Resource Room to wait. Halfway through the little man came out for a snack break, but went right back in afterwards. The session was scheduled for three to four hours, length determined by the subject’s cooperativeness. After just under three hours they emerged. Julie announced that the little man had done a great job, but imparted little more information than that. We’ll be going back for part two next week. And for part three some time later, while the little man is at school, to go over reports and recommendations. Slow and steady wins the race. Or something.
