at a trauma center closer to Leah but nothing ever seemed to pan out.
He had hired an attorney, much to the chagrin of his parents for not having taken them up on their offer to help him pay a retainer prior to this point, and finally had a court ordered joint legal custody order. It gave him Leah every other holiday and on school vacation, as well as four weeks in the summer.
It was far less than what he had wanted but more than he thought Allison would ever give.
Truth be told, his constant battling with Allison was something that helped him keep going. It helped him stay focused and not lose sight of being involved in everything concerning Leah.
No matter how unwanted his continued involvement was or how Allison tried to make things difficult for him, when Leah’s preschool suggested that there may be concern of a developmental delay in Leah, Hunter was the first person Allison called.
Suddenly the trio, because Garrett was conveniently too busy and couldn’t find time away from the office, were thrown into behavioral testing along with developmental assessments.
Acronyms and abbreviations were used to describe Leah’s slowness to grasp concepts that seemed easy to her peers or how her social behaviors lagged greatly behind the other children.
To Hunter’s relief and surprise, when he made the recommendation to bring Leah back to Boston for a full developmental workup at Children’s Floating Hospital at Tufts Medical Center, Allison agreed and had Leah there the following day.
Given Hunter’s position at MGH and his colleagues’ connections and willingness to forgo the six-month wait list, they were able to get Leah in to see the director of Developmental-Behavioral Pediatrics. After another string of parental inquisitive questions, seeming to have no rhyme or reason in relation to Leah’s daily function, a model play visional assessment session, more questions and identifications for Leah, speech evaluation, and four cups of coffee, the doctor brought Allison and Hunter back in to talk while one of the therapists entertained Leah.
“Dr. Dennison and Mrs. Lloyd, it is without a doubt that your daughter is a bright, charismatic, beautiful, healthy child. However, given what I’ve seen as well as the written concerns of her preschool teachers and the workup of the doctors in Vermont, it is my medical opinion that Leah does fall under the umbrella of ASD,” the kind yet professional doctor affirms.
Allison openly wept, reaching for Hunter’s hand at the small round table in the doctor’s office where they sat that overlooked Washington Street.
Hunter met the doctor’s eyes and silently nodded his admittance that the findings did not surprise him. He soothed Allison enough so that the doctor could continue.
“Now, I know this is a lot for you to hear, but Autism Spectrum Disorder isn’t a death sentence for your child. It doesn’t mean that your daughter can’t learn or that she won’t grow up and be a normal contributing adult in society. What this means is it will just take Leah maybe a little bit longer to learn something and she may learn in a different way. The point I’m trying to make is this doesn’t mean you did anything wrong in your parenting of Leah. So please keep your self-pity away from this table and let’s agree to focus on doing what is best for Leah.”
The doctor gave them detailed points and scores as to how she came to her diagnosis. Looking at it from a doctor’s standpoint, Hunter couldn’t deny that it was clear Leah was a pervasive developmental disorder’s child. However, from a father looking in, it felt like a punch in the gut and an immense failure weighing down on his shoulders.
How could he not know there was something off with his own child? How could he just brush off all her personality and physical quirks and not see the answer screaming back at him?
They listened to all the doctor had to say and agreed to the implementation of immediate home based
He had hired an attorney, much to the chagrin of his parents for not having taken them up on their offer to help him pay a retainer prior to this point, and finally had a court ordered joint legal custody order. It gave him Leah every other holiday and on school vacation, as well as four weeks in the summer.
It was far less than what he had wanted but more than he thought Allison would ever give.
Truth be told, his constant battling with Allison was something that helped him keep going. It helped him stay focused and not lose sight of being involved in everything concerning Leah.
No matter how unwanted his continued involvement was or how Allison tried to make things difficult for him, when Leah’s preschool suggested that there may be concern of a developmental delay in Leah, Hunter was the first person Allison called.
Suddenly the trio, because Garrett was conveniently too busy and couldn’t find time away from the office, were thrown into behavioral testing along with developmental assessments.
Acronyms and abbreviations were used to describe Leah’s slowness to grasp concepts that seemed easy to her peers or how her social behaviors lagged greatly behind the other children.
To Hunter’s relief and surprise, when he made the recommendation to bring Leah back to Boston for a full developmental workup at Children’s Floating Hospital at Tufts Medical Center, Allison agreed and had Leah there the following day.
Given Hunter’s position at MGH and his colleagues’ connections and willingness to forgo the six-month wait list, they were able to get Leah in to see the director of Developmental-Behavioral Pediatrics. After another string of parental inquisitive questions, seeming to have no rhyme or reason in relation to Leah’s daily function, a model play visional assessment session, more questions and identifications for Leah, speech evaluation, and four cups of coffee, the doctor brought Allison and Hunter back in to talk while one of the therapists entertained Leah.
“Dr. Dennison and Mrs. Lloyd, it is without a doubt that your daughter is a bright, charismatic, beautiful, healthy child. However, given what I’ve seen as well as the written concerns of her preschool teachers and the workup of the doctors in Vermont, it is my medical opinion that Leah does fall under the umbrella of ASD,” the kind yet professional doctor affirms.
Allison openly wept, reaching for Hunter’s hand at the small round table in the doctor’s office where they sat that overlooked Washington Street.
Hunter met the doctor’s eyes and silently nodded his admittance that the findings did not surprise him. He soothed Allison enough so that the doctor could continue.
“Now, I know this is a lot for you to hear, but Autism Spectrum Disorder isn’t a death sentence for your child. It doesn’t mean that your daughter can’t learn or that she won’t grow up and be a normal contributing adult in society. What this means is it will just take Leah maybe a little bit longer to learn something and she may learn in a different way. The point I’m trying to make is this doesn’t mean you did anything wrong in your parenting of Leah. So please keep your self-pity away from this table and let’s agree to focus on doing what is best for Leah.”
The doctor gave them detailed points and scores as to how she came to her diagnosis. Looking at it from a doctor’s standpoint, Hunter couldn’t deny that it was clear Leah was a pervasive developmental disorder’s child. However, from a father looking in, it felt like a punch in the gut and an immense failure weighing down on his shoulders.
How could he not know there was something off with his own child? How could he just brush off all her personality and physical quirks and not see the answer screaming back at him?
They listened to all the doctor had to say and agreed to the implementation of immediate home based
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