So there we are, sitting around the ER triage bed when the doc comes in to examine my sick Little Man. As he prepares to put the stethoscope to my baby’s chest, he hears the faint sound of giggling behind him and turns to see my Big Little Man and the Old Soul playing quietly underneath a table in the corner of the room. He looks at the boy under the table, back at the boy in the bed, then back again at the boy under the table playing with his sister. The Sarge and I smile to ourselves as we see the twin recognition slowly creep into the doctor’s brain. We proudly confirm his unspoken suspicions, “Yes, they’re identical twins”. At this point, the doc leans in as if he’s going to share some intimate secret with me and says in a hushed tone, “So, do they both have…. (he leans further in and looks me earnestly in the eye)… autism?”
I lean in dramatically, preparing to bestow the wisdom of the ages upon him and say out loud and with the great pride, “No, actually! Neither of them have AUTISM. But they do both have Down syndrome.”
Seriously…. This man has a degree in medicine? Don’t they cover genetics in medical school anymore? I’m pretty certain they cover it in most High School Biology Genetics units. Anyway, the Sarge was ready to get up and leave right then and there (LOL) no longer trusting the man to treat our child. Fortunately, the powers that be swiftly intervened with an ambulance transfer to a highly reputable children’s hospital on the north shore. Fortunately, folks there recognized that my son had Down syndrome OR at least had the good sense to keep it to themselves if they didn’t. Probably better that way.