Walking Backwards

The meeting with Nicholas' doctor went well. I'm so glad I picked a non-alarmist and low-intervention doctor when Nicholas was born. We arrived just in time for the appointment expecting Joe to be there with his arms folded, looking bored. When he wasn't there I called his cell phone and found out that the car we bought two weeks ago, the albatross, had started smoking heavily and Joe didn't want to drive it because if it was the serpentine belt, driving it would ruin the engine. Because of the car from hell, I was going to have to handle the appointment by myself. Fine. So we waited for the doctor. And waited. And 45 minutes after our scheduled appointment time, the nurse called us back into the treatment room. Then we waited some more. Finally, our very apologetic doctor came into the room. She asked questions, I answered them. She watched Nicholas color in his notebook and asked him to perform simple tasks like picking up the yellow marker and shaking her hand. He did really well and she told us right away that she didn't think he had autism. Instead, she thinks he has . . . Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She says he might have ADD, but his OCD is such that we wouldn't be able to tell until he has that under control. Basically, my son's social problems arise from the fact that he believes there is a certain order to everything in the world and if another child steps across those boundaries, Nicholas can't handle it. So he doesn't play with other kids. We were advised to put him in 'play' therapy so that he can learn that if another kid stacks their blocks differently, it's not the end of the world. We're also supposed to have more playdates with other children, so he can learn to interact with them in a one-on-one type setting. The doctor says that this problem is not going to be solved overnight either and that Nicholas will probably be in therapy for years.