Jessie Mei Mei by Sharon Guest

Jessie Mei Mei by Sharon Guest

Author:Sharon Guest
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781742371047
Publisher: Allen & Unwin Pty Ltd
Published: 2010-06-21T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 13

JUST KEEP HER HAPPY

Sharon

Jessie was waking every night now—sometimes twice a night.

‘Mummy’s here,’ I whispered, rocking her gently as I patted the mucus away from her nose. For months she’d had a chest infection. But in the warm comfort of my arms Jessie, with her book nestled close, was finally asleep. I marvelled how my distant child had grown into a desperately affectionate little girl whom I loved beyond words. Tomorrow we had an appointment with Tumbatin, the child development clinic. Now that she was making emotional progress, perhaps we could focus on a way forward with language and speech.

‘Christ we’re always late!’ I muttered accusingly as I hurried towards the car, Jessie pulling like a mule behind me. Stuart’s sardonic smile was burning my back but he knew I was anxious, and that it was me who could never get anywhere on time.

At Tumbatin we were ushered into a room and introduced to the centre’s psychologist, social worker and paediatric registrar. There was a stiffness to everyone’s smile; under the light conversation hung the unspoken sadness that children developing normally don’t come here. But while we all sat around uncomfortably, strangely Jessie was happy and compliant.

‘She’s so well behaved,’ said the social worker.

‘Beautiful,’ said the young registrar. Considering she’d lately developed a hysterical aversion to all clinical environments we were as surprised as the rest of them.

‘Let’s go outside and have a look at her gross motor skills,’ the psychologist said brightly. As usual Jessie raised the ball up to her chin with two hands and then pushed it away, in the opposite direction to the receiver. ‘I love this anarchic streak,’ Stuart used to say. But today we didn’t laugh as we might have at home. Instead I glanced nervously at the psychologist, who kept smiling, but I knew Jessie’s inability to catch or throw the ball or jump from a step really troubled her.

Back inside, Jessie had dragged one trouser leg up to her knee. It was an eccentricity that always made us smile. No matter what we put on her—footless tights or trousers—if the right leg could be dragged up to the knee, up it would go. The room looked like a playroom to Jessie and she was delighted. She charged around exploring and within a couple of seconds she was scribbling, head bent low, over some paper, propelling her little chair back and forth at a rate of knots. I caught the psychologist’s beady stare. ‘A lot of children from orphanages rock,’ I explained glancing at Stuart, who seemed oblivious that this might be odd.

During the assessment Stuart remained with Jessie and the psychologist while the rest of us, like spies, watched the action through a one-way mirror. She started off well with the puzzles, but as the psychologist moved on to speech, imitation, imaginative play and drawing, a deep uneasy feeling settled into my being. Then Jessie made it clear she’d had enough and the last part of the test was aborted.

As we waited for the results Stuart, as usual, did his best to calm me and counter my pessimism.



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