Big Al and I had a big day yesterday. We had an appointment with the cardiologist at 8:45 and NICU Graduate Clinic after that. What with one thing and another, we didn't get home until 2:30. He was worn out (so was I). Anyway, we had good news -- the echo and EKG showed that Allan's heart is doing things that only healthy hearts do. His cardiologist and pulmonologist were delighted with how well Allan is doing. (Dr. Kanga was also happy to check out Allan's tooth.) We are taking him down and off of some more of his medicines. We'll keep you posted.
Then we were seen by a variety of folks at the NICU graduate clinic. We were supposed to do Big Al's developmental assessment. Well, I pretty much knew how this was going to go. As a preliminary matter, Allan is perfect and he is doing great. That having been said, he isn't yet doing all the things that a baby of his age is meant to be doing. Breathing and eating take up a lot of his energy. As that improves, he grows more active and he will catch up (the statistic is that 90% of babies born at the same stage as our boys are indistinguishable from other kids by the time they start kindergarten). That's the first thing. The second thing is that, by the time that they started trying to test Allan, he was worn out. And, finally, as we all know, Allan is not exactly the most cooperative of individuals. In fact, he can be downright difficult when he puts his mind to it. So, it was no real surprise (to me anyway) when he essentially refused to participate. The Very Nice Physical Therapist (hereinafter "VNPT") began by trying to prepare me -- we'll be asking him to do things that are above his level (like what-- algebraic equations?), don't get upset or worried. We just want to see what he can do (again, like what? skip rope? Fail a test?) and, good luck to you on that seeing-what-he-can-do thing. Now, mind you, Allan spends half of his time these days playing with his hands, wringing them like the villan in a silent movie. You wouldn't have known it yesterday. As soon as the VNPT hit the door, he dropped them to his sides like they were lead weights. And he can clearly hold on to things and put them up to his mouth. Nunh-uhn. Not yesterday. Hands? I have hands? I'm sure that there will be a note in the report that the mother responded with inappropriate laughter, but when she got behind me and started ringing this bell to see if he would turn his head and he didn't turn his head, but did cut his eyes at me and heaved a big ha-rumph sigh, as if to say that this was irritating and, really, couldn't I do something about her? Finally, since I wouldn't do any thing about it, he took refuge in sleep. It was his only defense. Allan, 1, VNPT, 0.
I hope this is not indicative of his future academic career.