Wednesday, December 1, 2010

All about speech therapy

What do speech therapists do?
Speech Therapists are trained to work with communication disorders and swallowing in adults and children. Communication disorders can be:
  • Articulation (speech sounds - should be perfect by age 7)
  • Language (understanding and expressing verbal and written language)
  • Voice (hoarseness caused by vocal cord nodules/polyps/abuse/paralysis)
  • Fluency (stuttering)
  • Memory (rehab for brain injuries, dementia...)
  • Social (using language appropriately - big problem in autism)
Should my child be in speech therapy?
First of all... if you are asking then the answer is probably yes :)

What diagnoses indicate a need for speech therapy?
Lots :)
Autism, Developmental Delay, Speech Delay, Language Delay, Dysphagia (difficulty swallowing), Apraxia, Traumatic Brain Injury, Dementia, Stroke, Aphasia, Cleft Palate, Stuttering, Vocal Dysfunction, Parkinson's, Multiple Sclerosis, and more :)

If your child has not reached these milestones then contact your pediatrician to set up speech therapy. Do not let your pediatrician tell you that they are too young or that they'll grow out of it. You know your child better than anyone else and if you feel there is a delay then an evaluation can't hurt.

If your child is under 3 years old, contact your county's Early Intervention services first.

Sometimes insurances won't pay for outpatient speech therapy... contact your school district and they should have a free service. If your insurance will pay for it, do it.

Also... once in speech therapy:
  • Come to your appointments - common sense - I know but you would not believe :)
  • Do the homework... a little every day
  • Ask for more homework and do it
  • Make it fun and exciting for your child
  • Remember that it doesn't happen overnight
  • Don't be afraid to ask questions about your child's progress or treatment techniques
  • Most kids do 100% better without their parent present during therapy
I also like these sites for more information and tools:

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

To Moms

This was posted on a blog called... "Welcome to the Club" and I thought I would share it with you...

My dear friend,
I am so sorry for your pain.
Don’t worry; no one else sees it, I promise. To the rest of the world, you’re fine. But when you’ve been there, you can’t miss it.
I see it in your eyes. That awful, combustible mixture of heart-wrenching pain and abject fear. God, I remember the fear.
I see it in the weight of that invisible cloak that you wear. I remember the coarseness of its fabric on my skin. Like raw wool in the middle of the desert. You see, it was mine for a time.
I never would have wanted to pass it on to you, my love. I remember so well suffocating under the weight of it, struggling for breath, fighting to throw it off while wrapping myself in its awful warmth, clutching its worn edges for dear life.
I know that it feels like it’s permanent, fixed. But one day down the line you will wake up and find that you’ve left it next to the bed. Eventually, you’ll hang it in the closet. You’ll visit it now and then. You’ll try it on for size. You’ll run your fingers over the fabric and remember when you lived in it, when it was constant, when you couldn’t take it off and leave it behind. But soon days will go by before you wear it again, then weeks, then months.
I know you are staring down what looks to be an impossibly steep learning curve. I know it looks like an immovable mountain. It is not. I know you don’t believe me, but step by step you will climb until suddenly, without warning, you will look down. You will see how far you’ve come. You’ll breathe. I promise. You might even be able to take in the view.
You will doubt yourself. You won’t trust your instincts right away. You will be afraid that you don’t have the capacity to be what your baby will need you to be. Worse, you’ll think  that you don’t even know what she needs you to be. You do. I promise. You will.
When you became a mother, you held that tiny baby girl in your arms and in an instant, she filled your heart. You were overwhelmed with love. The kind of love you never expected. The kind that knocks the wind out of you. The kind of all encompassing love that you think couldn’t possibly leave room for any other. But it did.
When your son was born, you looked into those big blue eyes and he crawled right into your heart. He made room for himself, didn’t he? He carved out a space all his own. Suddenly your heart was just bigger. And then again when your youngest was born. She made herself right at home there too.
That’s how it happens. When you need capacity you find it. Your heart expands. It just does. It’s elastic. I promise.
You are so much stronger than you think you are. Trust me. I know you. Hell, I am you.
You will find people in your life who get it and some that don’t. You’ll find some that want to get it and some that never will. You’ll find a closeness with people you never thought you had anything in common with. You’ll find comfort and relief with friends who speak your new language. You’ll find your village.
You’ll change. One day you’ll notice a shift. You’ll realize that certain words have dropped out of your lexicon. The ones you hadn’t ever thought could be hurtful. Dude, that’s retarded. Never again. You won’t laugh at vulnerability. You’ll see the world through a lens of sensitivity. The people around you will notice. You’ll change them too.
You will learn to ask for help. You’ll have to. It won’t be easy. You’ll forget sometimes. Life will remind you.
You will read more than you can process. You’ll buy books that you can’t handle reading. You’ll feel guilty that they’re sitting by the side of the bed unopened. Take small bites. The information isn’t going anywhere. Let your heart heal. It will. Breathe. You can.
You will blame yourself. You’ll think you missed signs you should have seen. You’ll be convinced that you should have known. That you should have somehow gotten help earlier. You couldn’t have known. Don’t let yourself live there for long.
You will dig deep and find reserves of energy you never would have believed you had. You will run on adrenaline and crash into dreamless sleep. But you will come through it. I swear, you will. You will find a rhythm.
You will neglect yourself. You will suddenly realize that you haven’t stopped moving. You’ve missed the gym. You’ve taken care of everyone but you. You will forget how important it is to take care of yourself. Listen to me. If you hear nothing else, hear this. You MUST take care of yourself. You are no use to anyone unless you are healthy. I mean that holistically, my friend. HEALTHY. Nourished, rested, soul-fed. Your children deserve that example.
A friend will force you to take a walk. You will go outside. You will look at the sky. Follow the clouds upward. Try to find where they end. You’ll need that. You’ll need the air. You’ll need to remember how small we all really are.
You will question your faith. Or find it. Maybe both.
You will never, ever take progress for granted. Every milestone met, no matter what the timing, will be cause for celebration. Every baby step will be a quantum leap. You will find the people who understand that. You will revel in their support and love and shared excitement.
You will encounter people who care for your child in ways that restore your faith in humanity. You will cherish the teachers and therapists and caregivers who see past your child’s challenges and who truly understand her strengths. They will feel like family.
You will examine and re-examine every one of your own insecurities. You will recognize some of your child’s challenges as your own. You will get to know yourself as you get to know your child. You will look to the tools you have used to mitigate your own challenges. You will share them. You will both be better for it.
You will come to understand that there are gifts in all of this. Tolerance, compassion, understanding. Precious, life altering gifts.
You will worry about your other children. You will feel like you’re not giving them enough time. You will find the time. Yes, you will. No, really. You will. You will discover that the time that means something to them is not big. It’s not a trip to the circus. It doesn’t involve planning. It’s free. You will forget the dog and pony shows. Instead, you will find fifteen minutes before bed. You will close the door. You will sit on the floor. You’ll play Barbies with your daughter or Legos with your son. You’ll talk. You’ll listen. You’ll listen some more. You’ll start to believe they’ll be OK. And they will. You will be a better parent for all of it.
You will find the tools that you need. You will take bits and pieces of different theories and practices. You’ll talk to parents and doctors and therapists. You’ll take something from each of them. You’ll even find value in those you don’t agree with at all. Sometimes the most. From the scraps that you gather, you will start to build your child’s quilt. A little of this, a little of that, a lot of love.
You will speak hesitantly at first, but you’ll find your voice. You will come to see that no one knows your child better than you do. You will respectfully listen to the experts in each field. You will value their experience and their knowledge. But you will ultimately remember that while they are the experts in science, you are the expert in your child.
You will think you can’t handle it. You will be wrong.
This is not an easy road, but its rewards are tremendous. It’s joys are the very sweetest of life’s nectar. You will drink them in and taste and smell and feel every last drop of them.
You will be OK.
You will  help your sweet girl be far better than OK. You will show her boundless love. She will know that she is accepted and cherished and celebrated for every last morsel of who she is. She will know that her Mama’s there at every turn. She will believe in herself as you believe in her. She will astound you. Over and over and over again. She will teach you far more than you teach her. She will fly.
You will be OK.
And I will be here for you. Every step of the way.
With love,

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Inappropriately funny :)

This was on a kid's homework today from school... match the sentence to the picture.

Later, when another child ran out of verses for the "Wheels on the Bus" he sang... "the daddys on the bus say shut yo mouf... shut yo mouf..."

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Peas sues me

After multiple unsuccessful attempts at the same word, a little patient of mine said. Peas sues me foa a moment. Layed her head on the desk and silently moved her lips around like she was practicing.

Friday, February 19, 2010


I rarely have crappy Fridays but this one was mostly HORRIBLE!

  • A disability eval's grandfather screamed and yelled because I didn't want the guardian in the the treatment room during the eval...Why not? 
    • 1. Most disability evals we encounter just want a check and want their kid to be disabled so that they can continue to get more & more money... even if it was because they smoked crack while they were pregnant... we (taxpayers) still get to pay for their pitiful kids. (the kids usually are pitiful but the parents are usually mean and it makes me not feel compassionate toward them!)
    • 2. Most parents refuse to shut up!  I am giving aSTANDARDIZED test here!  You can't rephrase the question to get a certain answer!!!  The kid has to answer the question being asked or it is wrong.
    • 3. Most kids act like a big whiny baby when momma's around.  They may not love being in the treatment room at first but give me a minute and let me do what I do and they'll warm up. And honestly, I can't take much whining.
    • PS... I ended up having to let the grandmother in b/c the kid wouldn't warm up and then they tell me that yesterday he had a bladder test done and was held down to be catheterized!  The poor thing was probably scared out of his little gourd!
  • FULL schedule - yes, I know... job security!  But OMG, I couldn't get anything done that I needed to do.  For every patient, there is paperwork and not all of it can be done with the patient sitting there trying to eat the playdoh.
Great things about today...
  • Friday by nature
  • An autistic child that I see cracked me up.  Instead of saying "please give me that back", he screams so loudly that it peels the wallpaper up, to which I usually calmly reply, "no screaming".  Today, I took a playdoh can away because he was trying to open it with his teeth. He screamed. I looked at him silently. He looked down sheepishly and quietly said, "no screaming."
  • A friend that does home health called with a great story... Pt's granddaughter and her boyfriend bumped uglies in the next room as his treatment was going on!