Here Was I

 ...thinking I hadn't updated in a couple of months. Oops. Hold that thought a moment while I read the last couple of posts and see what's happened since.

(Elevator music goes here)

Hold on, because it isn't going to be much fun, this update. You've been warned.

I have finally sorted Little X's citizenship and medicare. We then managed to get into a paediatrician, and she has a tentative diagnosis of Level 2 Autism. I'm not going to lie, the news is gutting, it leads you down a garden path of wondering about the future. She's now attending daycare two days a week, ostensibly to help her with her speech, which has had a little bit of impact in that she's talking a little bit more. But we have huge holes in the actual communication, so there's also been a horrendous fight with the NDIS system, which is supposed to be the government organisation which manages disability support.

Spoiler: it didn't. They pushed us onto a compulsory "Early Childhood Partner" organisation which, sorry to say, don't know their arses from their elbows. After the clown "Early Childhood Consultant" did a two-hour assessment, she decided there was no evidence to support an NDIS application and that proceeding would result in a rejection from the system. She then emailed me a list of websites as "support", none of which has been even remotely useful. Watch three one-hour speech pathology videos at the library? That's your idea of approporiate early interventional support for an autistic two-year-old?

Dear readers, Little X's behaviour and speech is more than just clearly pointing at an autism diagnosis. It isn't just hinting at possibly mild. It's a giant neon arrow pointing squarely at her head. It's obvious and undeniable, when every other child in the centre comes over to sit down for story time and Little X is wandering around doing her own thing. She didn't not hear them call her over, she's absolutely not registering, understanding or responding. At lunch they all try the yummy cooked foods, but not Little X, who has a narrow list of acceptable items, and screams blue murder at the idea of having to eat one bite of vegetable, not even potato (fried, mashed, steamed, spiced, doesn't matter) or any protein which isn't a nugget, a fish finger, a pie, a sausage roll or an omelet. Any kind of casserole or mixed food is rejected. She can't answer a question, can't say which flavour ice cream she'd like, can't choose a red or blue shirt to put on, doesn't respond to her name and doesn't even pause while running away from me at the park, no matter what I scream.

Sigh. There are greater issues in the universe no doubt, but it's hard to be in a position of just not knowing what her future will be like, and of being denied the therapy she desperately needs in order to have even basic life skills. We have enrolled into the greater public system for Occupational Therapy and Speech Therapy, which is a long, long wait and limited to only 3 sessions of each. The OT lady has taken pity on us and the horrendous experience, and has at least done another assessment, in the hope I can use it to bypass the Idiot Clown Posse and appeal directly to the NDIS - we don't know if it will work, but we're hopeful that if the paediatrician writes more reports, we can demonstrate need. I will no doubt have news on that in the next post.

I'm also still trying to sell and it's still an exercise in absolute boredom, frustration and patience. Nothing to do except wait and see. Long story short, the sale fell through at the last hurdle and it sold again four days later. The second buyer is as slow as the first, and I've done all my stuff (contract and everything) while just waiting for them to plod, plod, plod, zzzz....

Still cash stuffing! Still looking at the Australian real estate market with dispair and knowing that it's galloping upwards faster than I can save more money. It's like a missed bus that you're fruitlessly chasing. 

Drinking: Lemonade. It's the last day of winter but warm enough for a t-shirt.