Langer Loksh

Newborn Hearing Screen and SIDS

The headline of this article about SIDS and the newborn hearing screen caught my eye. Some researchers believe there may be a connection between SIDS and inner ear cells damaged by surges in blood flow during delivery. As I read, I realized it isn't relevant to Charlie--his hearing loss is the result of the structure of his ear canal and middle ear, which formed early in pregnancy--but I still think it's interesting and worth passing along. Perhaps the newborn hearing screen, which already helps kids have better lives, will some day be used to actually save lives too.

Hello Internet

I am not avoiding you. I have been busy with the following activities:

1. Attempting to give pills to my cat. There is a cat treat called "Pill Pockets" that you can tuck a pill into. That worked a couple times. Then I smashed one into wet cat food. That didn't work. The vet suggested smashing it into baby food. That didn't work. Then you, the Internet, suggested coating the pill with butter and flicking it down the cat's throat. That works, but it's a two-person job and not pretty.

2. Leaving my cell phone on top of my car overnight, in the rain. Yes, it is dead.

3. Taking pictures of the cute new lifeguard at Wingaersheek Beach (photo).

4. Seeing The Police at Fenway Park (no photo--I lived in the moment for a change).

5. Not organizing my photos from Mexico. I'm spending a great deal of time not doing that.

6. Spotting a high school classmate in People magazine with LiLo. (Thanks, Kar!)

7. Avoiding my book club book in favor of  Harry Potter 7. (I'm not done--don't say ANYTHING.)

8. Suffering the effects of a bad friend clam. I will spare the Internet the details.

9. Taking a nap for the first time in about a year and a half. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

10. Ladies Night!

Having a Cow

On Tuesday I took Charlie to Children's for an evaluation with the Deaf and Hard of Hearing Program at Children's Hospital. When Charlie turns three, he will be booted out of Early Intervention and the public school system in our town will be responsible for his speech therapy; the evaluation at Children's will result in recommendations we can take to the school district.

Charlie sat at a table and played with a graduate student named Lori. "Put the doll on the chair," Lori directed. "Put the spoon on the plate." Charlie did everything she asked.  Meanwhile, a speech pathologist named Stacy asked me questions. "Does he use many two- and three-word phrases?" she asked. "Not many," I admitted. We talked about his speech--about how he drops a lot, but not all, of his consonants. Then Stacy got in on the action herself, squirting shaving cream all over a mirror and then painting it with a paintbrush. "Zoom! Zoom!" she said, trying to get Charlie to imitate her. Charlie ignored her, silently concentrating on painting a plastic kangaroo figure with shaving cream.

Stacy then came back to sit with me at her desk and we discussed her observations. "Charlie's receptive language is just fine," Stacy said. "His expressive language is delayed, but I'm not worried about him. It seems like he's just about to turn the corner." She told me that since he uses only a few multi-word phrases, he's communicating at the level of a 16-month-old child. That kind of made me suck in my breath; I didn't realize it was that bad. "I'm not worried about him," Stacy repeated. She said she thinks he's getting the right amount of services right now (an hour and a half of one-on-one speech therapy every week) and we should just keep doing what we're doing. We'll go back once more before we fill out all the paperwork for the transition to the public school system.

Today at EI I told Priscilla, Charlie's service coordinator, what went down. We agreed we would not say "16 months" to the team who is going to do Charlie's annual EI evaluation, which is coming up in a few weeks; Priscilla thinks he'll score higher on the standardized test they use. "But it's just a formality," she told me--which she also told me last year. What she means is that Charlie is guaranteed to get services since he has a diagnosed hearing loss, so I don't have to worry about his eligibility going away if he tests too well. Which obviously isn't going to happen. But I don't think of it as a formality. The more I learn, the more I believe that strengthening Charlie's communication is vitally important for his future. How else will he get hired for the Monday Night Football booth after he wraps up his pro career?

Priscilla and Rachel at EI have been telling me to break every syllable down for Charlie. When he points to a cow and says "ow," I'm supposed to say "Charlie, listen, 'COW,'" and make him try to make the sound. But Stacy at Children's said no, don't do that, just try to get him to say two-word phrases, so when he wants the cow, it's OK if he says "ow," but he needs to say "want ow," so I'm supposed to say, "Oh, you want the cow? Say 'I want cow.'" I asked Priscilla and Rachel about this and they said that it all goes together and I should do both--both sound drills and prompting for phrases. Rachel gave me a sheet with sound drills to do for five minutes a day, and I'm supposed to model the two-words all day long. 

Last night I sat at Maureen's dining room table drinking chai tea and cutting up towels for our mermaid towel project--we want to make something like this for our girls. "You're not worried about Charlie talking at the level of a 16-month-old," Maureen told me. "You're thinking about everything down the road--about school and life and everything." Hm, I hadn't even mentioned Monday Night Football. "But you're working with him, and he'll catch up in time," Maureen said. "Besides, I already understand most of what he says."

Thank heaven for Children's Hospital, for Early Intervention, and for good friends.

EDITED AT 11:44 TO ADD:

Oh, and Mike's Hard Lime. Hallelujah JESUS for Mike's Hard Lime.

It occurs to me that this irreverent comment may rub some readers the wrong way, kind of the way my friend Joy's husband Steve's post (July 19; Steve does not seem to embrace the permalink feature) about non-Mainers polluting Maine with their big black SUVs annoyed me. Even though I don't drive an SUV of any color. I believe that the price of a lobster roll in Ogunquit entitles the bearer of said lobster roll to burn as much fossil fuel as he/she pleases on coastal Route 1 at least as far north as Damariscotta, but I'd have to double check my pocket copy of the Constitution. 

Yes that would be the Mike's Hard Lime talking.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Check this kid out. He's a 19-year-old from Malawi whose family could not afford to send him to high school. After consulting a library book, he built a windmill so they wouldn't have to use stinky, smoky parrafin candles to light their home. An Internet minute later he is a blogebrity. He's building a bigger, better windmill and he's back in school. Read his blog--I predict that someday soon we'll all be able to spell Kamkwamba as quick as Gates and Jobs.

Naaaaaaaaaah...

She's OK. She's stalking my evening Hershey bar.

Survey Says: Kidneys

Bonita's on special kidney diet food and antibiotics. The vet thinks she'll be OK, but for the first time I'm not sure. Bonita doesn't seem her sassy self.

No One is Immune

to Pottermania! Thanks for the glow-in-the-dark Harry Potter glasses, Maggie.

Uncle!

My children are fortunate enough to have two spectacular uncles. Uncle Greg, who lives in our town and has his own little kids, is seven feet tall and picks up each kid with one pinkie finger and sticks them on the ceiling for convenient storage. He is the ideal, the prototype of Fun Uncle and we all have a crush on him. But Uncle Joey, I have to say, takes it to another level. A single guy in New York City, he is unafraid of car seat buckles. He convincingly recalls the story of the time Superman came to Grandma's house. He--unlike their father--puts the children in their pajamas without being expressly instructed. It is nothing short of a miracle.

So while we're in New Jersey I have had vast expanses of time to read. My mother saved for me this fascinating four-part series from the Star-Ledger about the 1967 Newark race riots. I learned, for one thing, that the riots were not so much a cause as a symptom of white flight, which was itself an unexpected consequence of the funding structure for the Interstate Highway system and the GI bill. It's a crystalline rendering of a misunderstood American history. The reporter, Brad Parks, should absolutely write a book.

Also, Rachel Zoe is in Fashion Police!

Sugar Free Pounce Treats Will Not Be Necessary

I know that the cat is not nearly as interesting as the toaster, the furniture, or, my lord, Sonny Amster's bakery, but for those animal lovin' readers out there, Bonita is not diabetic. The new vet thinks it's thyroid or kidney--which is what the other vets thought before they started barking up the cancer tree.

Poor Bonita has lost four pounds since November! Once the blood work comes back we'll plan her treatment.

Again with the iPod

Can anyone think of any reason why the FM transmitter that I just bought at TJMaxx is listed on the receipt as "men's furnishings"?