Where to begin with this one? What a waste of time.
When our big guy got assessed, we did sox privately in a different province - so mileage may vary. But in BC, a few thousand dollars bought us nearly 5 hours of assessment over the course of two afternoons and a 40-page report to show for it.
This time around with the little guy, we’re doing it through the public health system in Quebec. We already know that any diagnosis won’t really change very much. He’ll never be considered serious enough to make the top of any waitlists for treatment - and as his brother is already in the English school system, he already qualifies. The only thing that comes to mind - for me anyway - is that a diagnosis will stay with him for his entire school career, so in college he’ll be able to get extra time for his exams.
So anyway, it’s Monday morning and we drive across town in the aftermath of the latest snow storm, park up on the street down the road and walk into what I can only describe as a 1980s community centre and it looked like not a single dollar had been spent on the place since. Designed in the functional, brutalist style of the 1950s, it was half mental hospital, half community centre after the coal mine closed.
Nevertheless, we check in at reception and wait in a complete barren reception area. I’ve never quite understood if it’s a post-Covid thing or just a Quebec thing, but why children’s medical centres never have anything for kids to do. No toys, no books, no art tables with crayons, or those little metal wire tracks with beads on. Nothing.
We’re eventually taken back to a cleared classroom with a few mats on the floor and a selection of random toys. The healthcare professional says that she just wants to observe him play and interact. She wants me to get him settled and then to go to sit on the other side of the room so as to not interfere with the test. Good luck lady.
Exactly as expected, the kid is attached to my leg like glue. When I sit down, he will only sit down on me. He spots a dump truck and a few HotWheels and that’s it. He’s locked in.
She tries to distract him with a puppy that barks and walks. No dice. She tries a dolly. Nothing. It’s dolly’s birthday and she’s got a birthday cake. Nothing. Let’s sing dolly Happy Birthday. “No. No singing.” As he covers his ears with his hands and then tries to cover my mouth.
And then we’re done.
When it’s all said and done, the we were in and out of the room in 20 minutes. The whole assessment must’ve been 15 minutes tops.
Optimistically, I like to think we were an open and shut case. We had already completed the parental questionnaire. The daycare had also completed the questionnaire and given similar answers but actually skewed worse than ours. We’d also given an extensive parental interview and medical background, backed up with reports from paediatricians, speech specialists and occupational therapy.
Given all of that, maybe the diagnosis was obvious and the in-person assessment was purely functional to confirm that we weren’t lying and that he actually existed.
Maybe.
I’m hoping that that’s the case and that that isn’t the state of public health and everyone only gets their 15 minutes of fame.
But as one of the medical professionals to me confessed a few weeks back, “this province spends so much time, money and effort on a diagnosis - and then nothing on helping the kids afterwards”. If that holds true, then the incentives are all skewed. There’s no tangible difference between handing diagnoses out like candy and having the toughest, most rigorous clinical standards.
Anyway, we have a call next week where we’ll get the results from the assessment. And like I said before, there’s nothing really on the line. So I don’t particularly care what it comes back with. And even if it comes back with “he’s totally fine”, it’s not like we’re in a position where we could throw a few thousand dollars at another medical professional for a more detailer assessment privately.
But again, you have to question the incentive structure there. If you’re a private practice psychologist, taking thousands of dollars for an assessment - are you going to entirely rigorous or are you going to wave through anything that vague hints at shades of grey?
By