Turning a Corner

“I can’t cope any longer. I am being driven mad.” The call from our daughter-in-law in California alarmed us. She is separated from her partner, our daughter, and was looking after their two daughters, Jenny and Sally, seven and four years old respectively. Jenny had the attention span of a flea, temper tantrums fit for a mad monarch and lagged behind in skill development. One and a half hour commute, difficulty in obtaining medical services, departure of the part-time care giver all combined to create an impossible situation. The next call informed us that she was taking a year’s leave of absence and moving with us in Calgary.

Monica, a physician, had been anxious about this family ever since Jenny was born, a little premature and with very low hemoglobin count. Her anxiety was much worse because all her efforts to improve the situation had been in vain. As soon as she heard of their imminent arrival, Monica felt that at long last her opportunity had arrived. She started preparations in top gear. Rooms were readied for the children and their mother, list was prepared of all medical care specialists to be approached and some appointments made, the authorities contacted about schooling and process of registration and strategies discussed on how to handle a difficult child.

Jenny allowed us a few days’ grace after their arrival and then reverted to her usual tricks. She screamed whenever she was asked to do something, whether for fun or to help with chores. Her drawing was a few random lines on paper; her writing was that of a five year old. She was good at reading but I wondered how much of it she comprehended. She was extremely shy with adults and could only relate to other kids, whatever their age, on her terms. Putting her to bed was a major exercise in frustration and she woke up at five and made sure every one else was up too.

The pediatrician prescribed pills to increase her attention span. There was a significant improvement in her ability to focus and her skill level improved. Probably due to these factors, there was a gradual reduction in the frequency and intensity of her blow ups. Other medical care and family therapy, an excellent teacher at school, attention of three adults and discipline enforced by them, regular hours of eating and sleeping, all helped. A measure of improvement was that she was now trying to maintain some control on herself during the angry episodes and often apologized when she had calmed down. She stopped screaming when mother left them in our care and her going to bed routine became a piece of cake. Although all was not well in the estate in Calgary, it was becoming almost manageable. Our concern now was no longer how we will survive the day; it was how will the mother cope when they return home next summer?

Then the miracle happened. I was looking after the girls by myself that evening. Jenny busied herself in painting while I helped her sister to bed. This included reading two stories, cuddling her for a few minutes and setting the music to lull her to sleep. Entire process took a little more than half an hour. Jenny occupied herself for the whole time, something we could not even imagine only four months ago. When I came down she showed me the picture she had been working on. She had shaded in a complex outline drawing of the fairyland with felt pens. The drawing showed a good sense of colours and a reasonable level of competence. Progress from a few scratched lines to this drawing in such a short period was incredible. I complimented her on the good work and she neatly placed it on the dining table for her mommy to admire on her return.

Jenny went to the wash room and I sat down in an easy chair in the corner of the living room. She came out a few minutes later and stood next to the wall facing me. I looked at her and was astounded. The person facing me was not the little girl who has had us on tenterhooks ever since her birth but might have been an angel. Her eyes were sparkling and face glowing, her body radiating a joy she could not have experienced before. She told me in minute detail her event of the day. A kid in her class punched her face without any provocation. Instead of ‘getting frustrated’ she kept her cool and did not retaliate. She was proud of the way she handled it. More than pride, it dawned on me, she realized that she had turned a crucial corner in her life’s journey; whatever had been tormenting the child was no more in her and from now on she was going to endure the misery daily grind of life brings and emphasize in her little brain the happiness that is also all around her.

I did not expect that she will become a ‘normal’ child instantly and she hasn’t. We have not cancelled appointments with therapists and other professionals. But I feel a fundamental change within me. I am confident that the family is on its way to stability and my little granddaughter will grow up into a fine young woman.

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