Pomp and Circumstance for the Intermittently Intelligible

June 26, 2016 at 1:10 PM 1 comment

Eliana gets mounds of mail for an almost three year old–some of it addressed to her, not her parents or guardians, which still throws me off because isn’t it illegal to open someone else’s mail?–most of it mind-numbing insurance and medical papers, but occasionally something insightful, like the copy of the report that came in the mail recently from her evaluation for services through the intermediate unit.

The county intermediate unit (IU) is the next step after early intervention, the in-home birth-to-three program for kids with developmental delays and disabilities. Next month Eliana will reach the ripe old age of three and graduate from early intervention. Unfortunately, there’s no ceremony with little caps and gowns, and she doesn’t get to march down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance and get a tiny diploma. Worse yet, there’s no not graduating, since it’s based on age, not meeting educational requirements, so while her therapists would love to keep working with her, she’s aging out.

The IU therapist who evaluated her wrote in the report that Eliana was “intermittently intelligible to this novel listener.” While I was amused by the typo saying that Eliana ate cheetahs, imagining her on a big-game hunt in Africa rather than crunching Cheez-Its on the couch, Hank latched on to “intermittently intelligible,” and it’s become our new catch phrase. I mean, aren’t we all at best only intermittently intelligible? I even suggested we consider renaming the blog.

This week I came across a therapy facility in a magazine and called to see if Eliana could get in there. I had a long conversation with the woman who answered the phone, and one of her questions was what’s Eliana’s diagnosis. I rattled off the name of her syndrome, mentioned heart defects and scoliosis, and by the time I got to the fourth diagnosis I paused, said, “Uhhh…” and started laughing at myself for being intermittently intelligible.

Communicating is actually really hard sometimes when you’re a special needs parent. You never know what the other person knows. I belong to an online group of moms whose children have heart defects, many of them much more serious than Eliana’s, and half the time I don’t understand the posts, between the acronyms for diagnoses she doesn’t have and the different procedures and treatments. Even among a group of peers, we’re only intermittently intelligible.

Back on the phone, I immediately regretted laughing and hoped the woman understood I was laughing at my own faulty speech, not the long list of diagnoses. Thank goodness the person on the other end of the line happened to be another special needs mom who simply said she’d love to give Eliana a hug. Guess I got my point across.

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Entry filed under: Uncategorized.

On the Subject of Father’s Day All you really needed to know about Eliana’s third birthday and didn’t have a chance to ask

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Dominic Cardone  |  June 26, 2016 at 4:07 PM

    LIKE

    On Sunday, June 26, 2016, Marching to the Beat of a Different Drummer wrote:

    > Amy posted: “Eliana gets mounds of mail for an almost three year old–some > of it addressed to her, not her parents or guardians, which still throws me > off because isn’t it illegal to open someone else’s mail?–most of it > mind-numbing insurance and medical papers, but ” >

    Reply

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