My kids go back to school in a couple of weeks, and in preparation for my son Jack’s move to 6th grade, I took out the folder.
You know, the folder. The one that holds every single piece of paper and prescription and description, dating back to the day he was officially diagnosed in November of 2006.
Referrals for early intervention.
Recommendations for occupational therapy and speech therapy and physical therapy.
Random articles about cures and services and how to hold your family together in the midst of a diagnosis.
And finally, the judgment. The verdict, the finding, the truth; pervasive developmental disorder, not otherwise specified, which eventually became just plain old autism.
Our folder is blue. It’s a mess. I probably should have organized it with tabs and dividers, but to be honest, I couldn’t bring myself to arrange all the paperwork into neat sections–to take the papers…
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