Dr. S and I discussed a recommendation by the neuro-psych assessor that I consider having Charlie receive the treatment for Landau-Kleffner Syndrome, which involves high-dose steroids for a course of months. The treatment is curative for those with L/K. However, Dr. S reviewed how Charlie has none of the markers that hallmark L/K, most notably: normal social language development, followed by first a loss of receptive language (i.e., understanding language) followed by the emergence of behaviors consistent with autism; and an EEG that does not show the type of seizures that define L/K. His apparent genetic predisposition to autism and epilepsy are also not consistent with L/K. She offered to send us to Children's for a 2nd opinion from Dr. T (the neurologist who is the primary overseer of this treatment in San Diego); however, besides the fact that the children who undergo the steroid blow up into Michelin (TM) bodies is the scarier (to me) issue of being more susceptible to serious infection.
Home again for in-home therapy, laundry, dishes, etc. Started my new book club book (so far, quite acceptable) and enjoyed a cupcake.
Ventured out with Charlie after 3 p.m. to go retrieve the draft assessment reports in preparation for his IEP next week, as promised. My pal, Pat Matt, was there and eager to fork over his report. He professed to be somewhat uncertain what to recommend for Charlie in light of extremely splintered skill acquisition, showing me a book he was reading and telling me about consultations with his mentor from Columbia U. At least we're of a mind that it's not a slam-dunk...that is, until the IEP when his opinion will undoubtably both vex me and be proclaimed as the District Position.
For the record, no other reports were ready. Pat Matt called his boss, who assured that they'd be e-mailed to me this afternoon. Well, it's 6:21 p.m. Pacific Time and still no reports in my in-box. Perhaps my June 5th morn will feature Coast Toast and/or Egg Steamers at Brockton Villa instead of the tedium that is an IEP meeting. Dare I to dream?
Jack returned home brandishing the much-deliberated and misplaced Sex Ed Permission Slip (replacement copy). He adopted a very serious tone and lectured me severely about not signing it yet. (I'm so quaking upon my pregnant bare feet). An hour later, he re-approached me with a far more ingratiating tone, asking if I had a potato (or, if not me, perhaps Mrs. Patty Kiki might have one?). I said, they want my signature and I have to supply my crablet with a pretend baby crablet. He explained that he'd also need some tissues to tape on as a diaper. I said, can't you qualify (think CLEP out of prerequisite classes) as satisfied this exercise in agony given all your siblings? He said, if you can't buy me a potato, can I take Charlie to school?
So glad I exposed him to sarcasm and irony from such a young age.
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