My Quirky Kid- Wanted: Caring Occupational Therapist with a Sense of Humor

Last week we dove deep into the search for an occupational therapist for Will. This was a daunting task to say the least. Within a two mile radius of our house, there are probably more than 15 occupational therapists. But I still don’t really know anyone that can give me any kind of input, let alone anyone that has had a child in OT. And when you have a special needs child, you don’t just want to choose anyone. This person will likely be involved with Will for a two years spending significant time with him each week. I want them to inspire him and encourage him to keep trying when he just doesn’t want to try anymore. I want them to make him smile and laugh. I want them to love him and see the potential that I see in him. I want them to have a deep friendship with him, as well as our family and help Will thrive in his own environment which can be so scary and confusing for him.

In short, this was a big deal.

We are so blessed to have wonderful insurance benefits and OT is covered (24 visits/year), minus a $20 copayment. This truly is a blessing, because very, very few insurance policies cover any occupational or speech therapy and both of these start at $130 a session (45 min) out of pocket. So you would think we had a lot of options of providers due to our insurance. Wrong. Because so few insurance companies cover occupational therapy, most therapists set up successful practices without having to count on insurance income at all—so they just don’t take it. There was only one provider in our area and they were 25 minutes away. Due to only one provider, the insurance company gave me the option of finding another therapist and apply for in-network coverage. But this didn’t exactly give me warm fuzzies. It just felt like the search was that much harder because I had the entire sea open, and all I wanted was a drink.

I did my homework and carefully looked over our one insurance option. And then I prayed.

Really hard.

Truth be told, I feel like my knowledge of Will’s needs and abilities are infantile. I am starting to dig deeper into the world of APD, but still, I really don’t know that much. And I pretty much know nothing about OT. In a nutshell, all I know is that St. Kathryn (our speech therapist), said he needed it. And what she says, I do. I have zero education in Education. Have never taken a child development class of any sort and really wouldn’t even be able to tell you milestone ages for normally developing kids. But I’m Will’s mother, so I guess that’s all the qualifications I need to be able to know what to do, or at least I tell myself that.

I have really been forced to completely rely on faith that Heavenly Father would help me choose the right therapists and teachers for Will, and quickly. For this specific instance of choosing an OT, I asked my family to specifically pray about it in hopes that with our faith combined I would just know what to do. I sent them links to different OT’s and said, “What do you think of this one? Do you know if Boston College has a good education program for this? Do you think training overseas has any benefits?”

I had been given one referral from St. Kathryn for a therapist she had used with her own son. Her referral didn’t take insurance, didn’t know anyone who did, and wouldn’t be able to squeeze us in for another six weeks. Frustrated, I thought I’d give her one more shot and I called her.

“Do you know anyone at Good Beginnings?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, I know the manager, but she’s a physical therapist,” she says.

“Would you recommend that firm?”

“I honestly didn’t know they even took insurance. But I would say you would be in very good hands if you went there. I don’t know any of the occupational therapists there, but I know they are all very well trained,” she says.

Smiling, “Ok, thank you very much!”

I thought some more about it, prayed a little more, and concluded that this was where we were going to take Will. It seemed like as good of an option as any and even though the insurance company had said I could use an out of network therapist, I feared they would change their mind and I would have to wage a war on them. And when I’m already at war with “The District”, I figured I could only handle one war at a time.

In short, it just made sense.

It’s so cool how faith works. You think, you pray, you ponder, you do what you know is right, and more often than not, the answer always comes as common sense and a feeling of “yeah, that sounds good”.

But it doesn’t depreciate the answer one bit—it just makes it even more clear that God works though us and helps us think clearly to make decisions.

*update: Will had his evaluation from the OT. He was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Modulation Disorder across all five senses with a fine motor delay. We were expecting two, maybe three senses, but I was somewhat startled by five. Sensory Processing Disorder is a neurological disorder usually close in conversation with "autism spectrum". The OT even said, "it's obvious he isn't autistic, but a lot of his behaviors are really similar."

Oh, well. Nowhere to go but up, right?

Sometimes at night, I lay down next to Will while he’s falling asleep give him little pep talks. I tell him how proud I am of him and how great he’s doing and being so cooperative with all the therapy appointments. Will is usually in between consciousness and sleep when I give these, but I like to think that someday he’ll remember me doing this with him. I tell him that I know this is so difficult for him and that I know the world must be pretty darn confusing for him, but that I’ll always be there to help him sort it out. And that if he keeps smiling, he’ll go far in life. My speech usually ends with a phrase that has come to embody this experience for all of us:

This is hard. But we can do hard things!

Somedays, no, most days, I think I need the pep talk just as much as he does.

This is hard, but I can do hard things.

**And as a small side note, I’d just like to thank those of you who have continued to call/text/email us to ask about Will. Or who have had the insight to ask how we are doing as a family, or how Cortney and I are dealing with this as parents. I don’t think our trials are any more difficult than anyone else’s, but it means so much to us to hear from you. These kind words have kept us going when we feel lonely in a new place with few friends, and kept us buoyed up when the waters just seem too rough.

You know who you are. You are our first line of defense and we know we can always count on you.

Thank you.