By Cathy Jameson

I was looking through some old emails for a link and came across a message I had sent to my family and friends about Ronan.  The note was from a time when I’d just started to ask that question no parent wants to raise—could something be wrong with my child?   It was 2005 and Ronan didn’t seem to be that far behind his milestones.  I could tell something was a little bit different though, and a gap had started to widen.  After almost a year in an early intervention program, it was now time for an annual review that would accompany his first transition of services.  He was about to graduate into the preschool program.

The annual review included answering many questions about Ronan’s development, his abilities and of course a set of skills he lacked.  In preparation for this transition I spoke to several specialists who had access to Ronan’s records.  When it came time to conduct the parent interview with each specialist--a pediatrician, a social worker and a psychologist--I started to get a little nervous.  I’d never spoken so formally about Ronan before, but I knew it was a necessary step in the evaluation process.  Each interview was an hour or so in length so I prepared talking points to share.  I didn’t tire talking about what I thought was going on with Ronan, what I hoped he’d be able to receive as far as his education went and how I was going to remain an integral participant in all of the decisions being made for Ronan.  

I don’t remember too much about the psychologist or the social worker’s interviews.  I was most nervous for those two since I hadn’t spoken to either type of professional before personally.  We’d had a case worker for Ronan as he entered the early intervention program, but I did more work that she did.  Having no previous experience with these two fields, I thought it funny at first that I had to talk to them about Ronan when Ronan couldn’t tell me what he was thinking or feeling in the first place.  Both the psychologist and social worker were pleasant and agreeable, so my fear subsided soon into that long day of evaluations.  The next part of the process included my speaking with the pediatrician who was attending Ronan’s case.  I didn’t realize how long that session was going to be.  Nor did I realize how much I would be educating the doctor. 

We went over a slew of topics—prenatal history, birthing process, first few months at home, typical milestones, vaccine record, childhood ailments, the usual questions one would answer at any initial consult.  The further we got through Ronan’s history, and the closer to when I noticed his delays, I interjected my theory of why Ronan acted the way he did.  I said I thought Ronan had a reaction to his vaccines.   I also told the doctor I was going to fix that.  I don’t remember how he reacted, but I know he was taking a lot of notes while I spoke.  Ronan was going through his own set of tests and evaluations by the same team members as well as with his teachers.  Once Ronan’s tests were over, everyone would reconvene so I could receive feedback from their reports.

I don’t remember everything that happened between the break and the final update.  I know that it was agreed that Ronan would graduate from the infant-toddler program to the special education preschool program.  Most services were to remain the same and an appropriate preschool would be included in that decision.  It seemed that would be the next step but then, I got a little nervous again because I now had to go back to talk to the pediatrician.  This was not in the original agenda.   I wondered if the doctor had discovered something else.  Maybe Ronan actually had a disease or some anomaly that I’d overlooked.  I wondered if this thing Ronan had was much worse than I originally thought.  I returned to the interview room and waited for the doctor to come in to have this final chat. 

I got the unofficial reports that yes, he was a charming little boy with a strong will.  Yes, Ronan continued to have delays.  Yes, your son needed intervention.  Yes, Ronan would stay in the system.   Then, the conversations slowed a bit.  The doctor started asking me questions again.  He went so far as to mention the “A” word to me.  “Have you thought that these things Ronan does…could be…?”  The way he said it, coupled with the reports offered by Ronan’s teachers and therapists were not a positive autism diagnosis. Call it a “soft” warning to buy time, and that maybe no one wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but Ronan had already walked away with no specific diagnosis.  I stated what I had said before, that Ronan had some sort of reaction to his vaccines.  Those caused these “issues”, and I was going to look at how other parents helped their vaccine injured children get better.  Maybe the early intervention team thought I was nuts and didn’t want to burst my bubble.  The doctor nodded his head as I spoke, took a few more notes and responded.  He said the reports were compiled and Ronan would continue with the therapy he had already started when he was enrolled in early intervention:  maximum amount of time for speech, occupational and physical therapy with full-time placement in the special needs preschool.