Diagnosis

We have it; a diagnosis. We waited two hours for it. We were lucky; the lady in the queue next to us said she’d arrived at six in the morning a few days ago, but there weren’t any more numbered cards left for the day already (you have to take a numbered card in order to swop it for an appointment), and then the day after that she’d arrived at five-thirty in the morning and there were eighty five people in the queue before her, so when they started giving out the numbered cards they ran out before they reached her.
So, conclusion? Having waited our two hours, we spent approximately a minute and a half in the doctor’s office. He asked kiddo’s mum if she still lived in Luis Sauce (yes), how old kiddo is now (eight), and whether he talks yet (no), and on that basis he completed his diagnostic sheet with three words “Profoundly mentally retarded”. I envisage one of two outcomes; possibly, the school will decide that the diagnosis isn’t good enough and send us for some sort of full multi-disciplinary assessment somewhere else; alternatively, being Argentina, it may be that the signature and rubber stamp of the doctor were all that was really needed in the first place and that the form-filling was just a waste-of-time exercise in order to obtain the doctor’s seal. We’ll find out on Wednesday.

Changing the subject. Having been at war for the last four and a half years trying to find out how to have my qualifications validated for use in Argentina, today I received the following response (which might not be correct, but it’s more of a response than I’ve managed to elucidate from anyone else to date). First, I need to revalidate my secondary school leaving certificate, which I can do at some address in Buenos Aires. Then I need to present this with my identity document, my degree certificates, my academic transcript, a description of the programme of study for each module covered, the number of hours duration for each module, and the marking scheme, along with $2,300 Argentinean pesos (divide by 6 for sterling), and then, if I’m successful, I will be issued with the relevant certificate. Only apparently the bit between the presenting the stuff and being issued with the certificate takes between 18 months and two years. I’m trying to look pleased that we’ve made some progress, but…

To end on a positive note, (you can always count on Gilbert and Sullivan… Tom Lehrer quote) last night our kid came and threw himself into my arms with a big dribbly hug and asked “am I cute?” Believe me boy, if you weren’t cute you’d have been sold for chemical experiments a long time ago, so take that as a yes. Which reminded me to dig out the socks that he’s been wearing since he was six months old and buy some new ones that actually fit the poor guy. Diagnosis: he’s a sweet boy, despite his parents.

Leave a Reply