My husband studies me. He says, "I'm surprised you're not writing about the occupational therapist."
This makes me think of the writer Lorrie Moore--and the moment her husband said, "Write about our child's tumor?" Moore said: "I do zany holidays. I do wacky family outings with the dog. Child tumor? I don't cover that."
The occupational therapist was wildly mediocre. I could empathize--because I've made friends with mediocrity, many times in life.
The O.T. was named Emily, and she wanted to assess my child via Zoom. She suggested that she just park herself in her desk chair--and watch the clock, for sixty minutes.....and then she could e-mail a "visit log" to me, and this could help me to "procure services." When I insisted on an in-person visit, Emily began a week-long tug-of-war with many references to her own childcare burdens, then she lost my address, forgot the time she had committed to, and asked me to research the names and phone numbers of several of her (ostensible) early-intervention colleagues.
When Emily finally entered my house, she sat far away from my child and murmured that he seemed to like Dr. Brown bottles -- liked these too much for a child at his particular stage of development. A deafening silence filled the house, and my child grew agitated. Without offering to engage with Joshua, Emily said that my son seemed to struggle with attention issues. She said, "I would have brought toys--but--gosh! You know. Covid."
After forty-five minutes, Emily said, "If you sign my log and pretend it's an hour, we can wrap up now." She said: "Maybe give your child some dry rice, for a sensory experience." She said: "Have him eat BEFORE he drinks milk, or the milk becomes the food." (I did not point out that my son works himself into a near-homicidal fury pre-bottle, and that withholding the bottle is sometimes like asking my son to recite "War and Peace," in Russian. I was finished with Emily--by this point.)
I write this in a community-minded spirit, because I sense I'm not the only person who has encountered an Emily in the recent past.
I send well-wishes to E -- and I hope I never see her again.
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