Monthly Archives: December 2015
Dude, I have come to the conclusion that my couch houses Loki, or some Thing. You know, stuff usually falls between the cushions of regular couches and you find it again when you flip them, or move them or whatever right? NOT THIS ONE
Ok, you might know me from various blogs ranting and raving about how the medical profession blatantly ignores women, gaslights them, treats them like dog shit and whatnot, right?
Well here’s another example, from my very own life.
I have been trying to get my son evaluated for a learning disability for quite some time now, going on two years already I think. Anyway, the school told me to talk to my doctor, who told me to call mental health, mental health told me to talk to the school. This has been going on for two years now. Seriously.
The school is great, don’t get me wrong. It’s an awesome school. They knew my son had difficulties and came up with a list of adaptations that helped him along as he struggled, despite not having an official diagnosis. I am so grateful to them it isn’t even funny. The thought of moving away just gives me a bit of a panic because this school is really that good.
Anyway, my husband got tired of the runaround and made an appointment with the social worker to see what the military could do to kickstart things. Welp…
He came back with a solid referral to get our son evaluated so insurance would cover it. *One* appointment, five minutes total, and boom referral in hand.
Different systems? Maybe. Different doctors, yeah, sort of. The flight surgeons practice with the province as well doing rotos at the local hospital, so they are part of the public health care system as well. I’ve seen flight surgeons almost every time I went to the ER.
I just know that my husband wasn’t brushed off. He was taken seriously right off the bat, whereas, I wasn’t. I was gaslit, I was ignored, I was passed along to be someone elses problem while my son’s education suffered. *THAT* pisses me off to no end.
So yeah, special needs mammas, don’t give up, don’t give in, don’t let them get to you. You’re *not* crazy. Your kid needs help. Your kid needs supports. Get them. Fight for them. It’s so hard to not internalize it. I know, I’ve been there before with my daughter, now with my son. Fight until you win.