Graduating

A few months ago my son was let go from his physical therapist. A few months before that his speech therapist let him go as well.  It was not because he made so much progress that he no longer needed services but because he is so slow with progress there is nothing more they can do. In all honesty I did not mind.  Most of what they did with him were every day things for me to do with him.  I also was fine with it because I live in a small city where there is not enough pediatric therapists to handle the demand and need.

About six months ago my oldest child started therapies.  I could not believe I had missed her needing help for so long, but was grateful to get her started. This week she retested and graduated out of physical therapy.

Graduating from physical therapy means you have made enough progress to catch up to your peers.  She caught up to her peers. It did not come easily. It required daily exercises (often forgotten or put off for the end of the day) and commitment. Her exercises were difficult but she persisted. I reminded her she would need to continue in some capacity at home so as not to lose what she gained, but she gave me no opposition to the idea.

As I think about it I have opposite feelings toward each situation. One I am just relieved because I needed things taken off my plate (of which I have to reassure myself is not bad) along with knowing he just does not make progress quickly; the other I am excited because of the progress.

This is the life though. They still have occupational therapy each week. I can do that.

 

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