The Day I Met Hitler

Okay, so I know you are wondering what the heck I mean by that title! Read and you will find out! Actually, this entry is inspired by our DAN! doctor appointment. I can't help but contrasting the appointment with the day I met "Hitler."
It was my husband who initially pointed out the contrast. We went to see Dr. Kalb in Franklin, TN (our DAN! Doctor) on Josiah's first birthday. I hated leaving Josiah at home on his birthday, but he had a blast with Mimi. The trip went smooth for us, and we were only 5 minutes late which is a record for us. Dr. Kalb’s staff was very friendly, and Dr. Kalb himself was a true gentleman. He listened intently. He asked important questions to find clues into Isaac's health, and when we asked him a question about our other son, his response was, "How can I help you with him?" What a kind man! My husband was so relieved to find that Dr. Kalb was quite opposite from the doctor we last took Isaac to in our attempt to make him better.

In November of 2009, we attempted to find Isaac ABA therapy in our area (we have very few options in rural, west Tennessee. We took him to a quaint location an hour away from our home to a real, certified psychologist. David took off the day for the consultation, and....well....that is the day we met “Hitler.” (or at least that is how we refer to him now)

The night before our consultation with “Hitler,” I couldn’t get settled about the appointment. I was restless. Something felt wrong. Our TEIS instructor, wanting me to be prepped for the appointment, warned me that his approach could be aggressive at times.

Well, AGRESSIVE is not something that I like to hear when describing how a therapist will be dealing with my son. This didn't sit right with me, and I couldn't shake it. I talked to David about it, but he had already taken the day off and said he felt that going for the consultation couldn't hurt anything.

So, the next day we walked into Hitler’s office--Isaac was already exhausted from his speech and occupational therapy that morning plus an hour drive. Knowing that he wasn't in a good mood, I was even more worried about how he would react to evaluators in his face. We got to the clinic, and Isaac played with a truck in the floor while I did the paper work. His one and only assistant in the building, a young, college girl who seemed nervous about everything, walked to the front door and put a child safety lock on the door. I stared at her oddly wondering why it needed a lock, but didn't ask. She caught sight of my stare and nervously explained, "We are close to the road" and quickly ran back into the therapy room.

Next, Hitler entered the waiting room where we sat. He told me to go ahead and finish the paperwork before we started our consultation. He walked up to Isaac and said, "Hey, fella!" Isaac looked up at him suspiciously, then continued in his play. "Hitler" turned to us and said, "He doesn't know what to think of me yet!" David later pointed out his cocky attitude in this statement. It wasn't said in a way that he expected Isaac to get to know him. It was said more in a way as though he was about to become Isaac's worst nightmare!

I hurried through the papers, and we proceeded with what we thought was going to be only a consultation—with him outlining therapy for our family (or at least, that is what he explained to me on the phone). As a family, we all walked to the back of the building. Hitler stopped at a door and said, "Mom and Dad...you both will come with me in my office. My evaluator will take Isaac in the other room for his evaluation."

I stopped. "Wait!” I said urgently. “He has terrible separation anxiety.” I was in fear, recalling the last time we tried to leave Isaac somewhere that was unfamiliar--a church nursery where he went into panic after we left, banged his hand repeatedly into a wall, and pulled a fist full of hair out of his head. It had taken me hours to get him to quit sobbing.

"Well," he said to me sternly. "There is no better time to break THAT than the present." He looked at his assistant, and she pulled Isaac into the other room, his eyes filled with desperation and panic. She quickly shut the door, separating us from Isaac. Isaac let out a scream that made my blood curdle. He sounded like a wild animal. We heard Isaac desperately screaming for Daddy, and we knew he was terrified. Terrified of the new surroundings, the young woman he did not know, and of being separated from us.

A door and the intimidating presence of Hitler stood between us and our son. He led us into his office. I followed and pleaded with him. "He hurts himself," I explained. "Please. We weren't prepared for this today."

It didn't dawn on me at that moment that I was pleading to get my son back and that he was taken from us without out consent. He told us that we could not go into the room. A few minutes later, Isaac's screams didn't cease...only intensified. David said, "I'm going in there!" He stood up and charged forward.

Hitler immediately stepped in front of the door, blocking my husband, but quickly, again, stepped aside. He told David that he could go in just this once, but never again. Later, my husband told me that he was about the put the man through the wall. He was smart to have stepped aside, and if he wouldn’t have, I guess I would be telling a much more dramatic story.

David entered the room and calmed Isaac while I finished our consultation with Hitler. Apparently, he didn't expect us to come back because he unloaded.  I sat there and listened to an hour of him explain how my son was manipulating and controlling, and how my husband and I, with our behavior, were an obstacle to his learning and progress. He scoffed at me describing Isaac's sensory issues, explaining that his issues were just his way of getting what he wants and controlling his environment. When I asked him about vitamin supplements, he scoffed at any form of biomedical treatment, accusing them of falsity due to the lack of double blind studies done on these methods (I am still not aware of any double blind studies being done on any type of therapy--Exactly how would that be done?  Have there been any double blind studies done on immunizations in infants?).

He told me that Isaac would eventually need to be medicated. I told him I wasn't okay with that, and he explained that if he had diabetes, I wouldn't withhold insulin from him, so why would I refuse medication (odd reasoning). He said that the problem with people is they are more willing to listen to a Playboy bunny than a doctor (that remark still irritates me).

On the bright side, I think his tirade motivated me to pursue biomedical treatment—almost in defiance to his suppositions about us and our son.

And, now for my final complaint against Hitler: He said Isaac was definitely autistic (he hadn’t been diagnosed at this point), Isaac was manipulative and controlling, and we were bad parents (he didn’t say those exact words but heavily implied this) without spending more than 5 minutes with Isaac or us. Doesn't something sound wrong with this?

My husband later told me of how the young therapist acted in the back with him and Isaac. She asked Isaac, "Do you want a cheerio?" and held out her hand with the cheerio. As Isaac reached for it, she pulled it back and said, "Say 'YES'." Isaac looked at her oddly. She repeated the drill. Isaac, at that point, could only say three words, and "yes" was not one of them. And, knowing Isaac, who won't eat in front of strangers easily, he didn't really care much about the cheerio in the first place. He ignored her.

David had to go back into Hitler's office to get the diaper bag, but she nervously tried to stop him, explaining that he doesn't like to be disturbed. David, disregarding her advice (just like my husband), entered Hitler's office and retrieved the bag. I noted that this seemed to irritate Hitler quite a bit.

On the way home I cried. I literally cried all the way home. I had been so desperate to help my son, and it hurt badly to hear a trained professional accuse me of interfering with his development. David called Hitler every bad name known to mankind during our one hour drive home. We will never forget the experience. Thankfully, we learned a lot from it.  And, I'm glad we've learned (the hard way) before we now go on with therapy.  We now have some basic guidelines that we have developed to help us choose a path for Isaac.

1. We will never leave our child in a place that we are not allowed to be or see what is going on. unless it is for urgent medical reasons.

2. We will not work with any therapist that views us, as parents, as an obstacle to Isaac—we are his biggest asset.

3. We will not work with a therapist that does not look at our child as an individual.

4. We will only work with therapist that consider our opinions and insights as helpful to his therapy.

5. We will make sure that all attempts to receive therapy are led by God.

And, later, we learned that not all ABA therapy is bad. Thanks to a website,

http://www.rethinkautism.org/

I’ve been able to watch ABA therapy sessions and how effective they can really be.

So, back to the DAN! Doctor visit: Our visit with Dr. Kalb, meets all of our criteria for therapy, and we were happy with the program. I will explain more details next blog!

SOON....I promise!