This afternoon found me across town, taking Max to be evaluated by the school district audiologist. He'd apparently failed two previous hearing tests, so she wanted him in her office, in her soundproof box. Which sounds a little menacing, now that I think of it. Anyhow, she wanted to test him with no distractions to be sure of what was going on.
As she was leading him into her soundproof room, I asked if I should come in too. She said it was up to me, so let me answer that question for you, if you are ever left to decide it by your own audiologist: No. You do not want to go in the room with your child. It is not only soundproof, it is pretty much airless. And as you sit there, with the temperature steadily rising, your job is to not make any noise at all. And your phone must be off.
Max had headphones on, and the audiologist was talking to him, but all I could hear was him responding to her with random words, like he'd suddenly caught Tourette's from her or something. "Baseball," he said, "ice cream. Hot dog." I concentrated on not making noise and wondered if anyone ever fainted in the soundproof, airless room. Then I tried not to think about that, because it was SO QUIET in there (whenever Max wasn't speaking), that I was a little nervous that she could actually hear what I was thinking. Hey, it was hot, okay?
What I tried to do, instead, was think about all the other things I should really be doing. Clay's mom arrives tomorrow, so of course I have to plan to clean All The Things, even though she would never worry one bit about what my house looks like because she's A) not that kind of person and B) the mother of six grown kids herself. Also, I never get it all done anyhow. So I don't know why I do that. But I do.
Besides that, Tre's graduation is Thursday, and I have to pick up Kate so she can come with us, and Raphael has an Honor Band concert on Sunday, so that means extra rehearsals this week. And Max is leaving for a three day school trip on Monday, fertheloveapete.
This line of thought was making me consider hyperventilating, which I don't think would be perfectly silent, so I switched to thinking about other things. Like all the previous medical tests Max has had that turned out to be nothing. Like the ultrasound of his heart. Heh. Goober. And just a few years ago he had an EEG, and that was tickety-boo also. Hey, remember when I tried to convince everyone to say tickety-boo? Don't you think it's time you people got on that?
Well, eventually she finished, and released us from the booth (seriously, it looked just like a restaurant freezer from the outside. Airless). She told us to have a seat, and she'd be right over to explain the results.
Then she sat down with her papers and said that Max has a mild but significant hearing loss.
She said lots of things after that, but I just sort of looked at her and tried to process what she'd said. He might need hearing aids. He could hear all the sounds, but certain speech noises in particular are hard for him to decipher, making listening a mentally fatiguing job for him. He would need accommodation in the classroom. He needs to see an ear specialist.
For a few minutes he wasn't the only one having a hard time deciphering speech. I looked at her and nodded and failed to assimilate one word for a few minutes. There's nothing wrong with Max. He talked early! His enunciation has always been fine. He's a MUSICIAN, for goodness' sake!
I decided, sitting there, that I wouldn't be sorry that I'd homeschooled him. This would have been caught earlier if I had, but then again it wasn't a problem until he was in a classroom. Nope. Not going to do that.
I guess what I'm going to do is navigate the tasks ahead of me. I'm going to find the specialist he needs to see and make the appointments and figure it out. I'm not going to lie, I'm somewhat stunned.
I guess what we'll do is just whatever is next.