SLP Mommy of Apraxia

Category: global apraxia

  • Apraxia as a symptom to a bigger picture

    Apraxia as a symptom to a bigger picture

    When I started out on this journey, having my daughter receive the diagnosis of Childhood Apraxia of Speech was devastating.  Unlike other parents who might have needed it explained or who turned to google and realized it is a lifelong neurological disorder, being an SLP I already knew that.  My mind flashed to two boys I treated prior to Ashlynn when I was a school SLP, who both entered Kindergarten nonverbal and I was terrified.

    After I threw myself a pity party, I picked myself up determined to attack the beast named apraxia.  At the time as we were going through it, I did not fully grasp as I do now, the fact that most kids with apraxia will not only hold that one label.  I did not fully realize that most kids with apraxia, a neurological speech disorder, will also have co-morbid neurological disorders as well.

    As a professional SLP specializing in the field, I have a current private practice caseload of around 35 kids.  There is not one who doesn’t have another co-morbid condition.  Friends, I have to repeat that because it is important.  There is not ONE who only has apraxia.

    I feel now like this is an important topic to discuss because I don’t know about other parents, but for me I would have wanted to know up front that a diagnosis of CAS meant I was going to be dealing with more than CAS for the long haul.

    Why?  What does it matter?  You take each diagnosis day by day right?

    I struggle with this.  Part of me agrees but then part of me just wishes I had known the statistics were as high as they were for the chances that my daughter would have dyslexia, or ADHD, or SPD.  I say this because honestly, had I just known up front all of that was a possibility, I could have:
    1. Been more vigilant and more proactive about potential comorbidities
    2. Not been so devastated each time a new one popped up.

    In the post on ADHD I wrote:

    I know it’s a little too young to diagnose ADD, but I hope to God she doesn’t have that too.  She doesn’t deserve this..any of this.

    In the post on Dyslexia I wrote:

    In that moment, my dear readers, I had the same gut feeling I had when that SLP told me back when Ashlynn was 2:11 “Laura this is apraxia.”  In that moment, that article told me, “Laura, this is dyslexia.”  I started to cry at the end of that article.  Damnit.  I missed it again.  I missed another OBVIOUS dx in my OWN daughter.  Why does this keep happening??  What good was all my training and experience when I’m not applying it to my OWN baby??

    Ashlynn has a slew of other diagnoses as well, and EACH time I went through this process AGAIN.  I had to relive the pain of a diagnosis AGAIN.  I guess I can’t say if the pain would have been any less had I known all of these diagnoses were more of probabilities that possibilities, but I honestly think it wouldn’t have made each new diagnosis as gut wrenching.

    I was talking to Lynn Carahaly the other day, creator of the Speech EZ program for apraxia and apraxia expert out of Arizona,  and she said the following,

    Over my career specializing in the disorder, I definitely feel apraxia is rarely the primary issue, rather a sequela to a bigger picture.  The problem is SLP’s and parents are so focused on the speech and not looking at the big picture in early development.  There is this thinking that if we could just overcome the apraxia, everything will be OK.

    I let out a big sigh after reading that.  Anyone else who felt that way, will you raise your hand with me?  I fell into that category.  I was so convinced if we could just fight and beat this beast called apraxia, everything else was going to be okay, and man I was wrong.  Consequently, each new diagnosis brought this sense of total indignation.  We fought apraxia and WON!!  Why now did she have to deal with something else?

    I take a different approach now with my clients.  I am completely honest and transparent about the potential for co-morbid issues.  In fact, I told one mother the other day,

    Your daughter is at risk for dyslexia.  I recommend that for now we operate under the assumption she might have it and get her started early with pre-literacy and phonemic awareness activities; and if she doesn’t have dyslexia, we celebrate.

    I’m just giving parents, and now all of you, what I personally would have wanted to hear.  Lynn is right, and that’s why her program incorporates so many pre-literacy elements.  Let’s start looking at apraxia as more than just a speech disorder, and let’s celebrate if the child did indeed only have apraxia.   Once I started connecting with parents of kids who have global apraxia, only then did I realize every child with global apraxia had a co-morbid diagnosis of ADHD.  The same was true when I found the apraxia-kids facebook group and realized just how many kids with apraxia also had Sensory Processing Disorder!  Oh, and when I found out that and started talking to my global apraxia friends, just how many kids with global apraxia had a similar and rare presentation of sensory processing disorder in that they had a high tolerance for pain and an “under-responsive” tactile system!

    Parents and professionals, the moral of the story is this.  In most cases, apraxia is just a foreshadowing of additional neurological conditions to come.  There are many, MANY, combinations it would be impossible to predict at that initial CAS dx.  Dr. Ruth Stoeckel did a talk at one apraxia conference titled “Co-Occurring Diagnoses: Other Letters that may go with CAS.”  There are MANY other conditions that can and DO go with CAS.  I think it benefits parents and professionals to know we are dealing with just the beginning of what is probably a very bigger picture.

     

    Resources:

    Duchow, H., Lindsay, A., Roth, K., Schell, S., Allen, D., & Boliek, C. A. (2019). The co-occurrence of possible developmental coordination disorder and suspected childhood apraxia of speech. Canadian Journal of Speech-Language Pathology and Audiology.

    Iuzzini-Seigel, J. (2019). Motor Performance in Children With Childhood Apraxia of Speech and Speech Sound Disorders. Journal of Speech, Language, and Hearing Research, 62(9), 3220-3233.

    Langer, N., Benjamin, C., Becker, B. L., & Gaab, N. (2019). Comorbidity of reading disabilities and ADHD: structural and functional brain characteristics. Human brain mapping, 40(9), 2677-2698.
    Lewis, B. A., Freebairn, L. A., Hansen, A. J., Iyengar, S. K., & Taylor, H. G. (2004). School-age follow-up of children with childhood apraxia of speech. Language, Speech, and Hearing Services in Schools.
    Miller, G. J., Lewis, B., Benchek, P., Freebairn, L., Tag, J., Budge, K., … & Stein, C. (2019). Reading Outcomes for Individuals With Histories of Suspected Childhood Apraxia of Speech. American journal of speech-language pathology, 1-16.
    Teverovsky, E. G., Bickel, J. O., & Feldman, H. M. (2009). Functional characteristics of children diagnosed with childhood apraxia of speech. Disability and Rehabilitation, 31(2), 94-102.

     

    Laura Smith, M.A. CCC-SLP is a 2014 graduate of Apraxia Kids Boot Camp, has completed the PROMPT Level 1 training, and the Kaufman Speech to Language Protocol (K-SLP). She is the author of Overcoming Apraxia and has lectured throughout the United States on CAS and related issues. Currently, Laura is a practicing SLP specializing in apraxia at her clinic A Mile High Speech Therapy in Aurora, Colorado. 

  • Lessons from a bicycle: Just keep pedaling

    Lessons from a bicycle: Just keep pedaling

    Ashlynn is 8 1/2 years old.  Currently, she is riding this big girl bike, and yes, it still has training wheels; although the wheels are much smaller and looser than they have ever been.  Last year she took quite a tumble and refused to ride it, but this year she is back on it and pushing harder than ever before.

    Due to the severity of her dyspraxia, we have increased her time in private OT to 2x a week along with the OT and PT she gets in school.  The new private OT place is VERY focused on bilateral coordination, balance, strength, and sensory issues.  We noticed a difference right away in terms of her sensory issues, but we are also noticing a HUGE difference in her strength and increased endurance.

    She could TOTALLY, TOTALLY ride without training wheels, but she has a few more obstacles.  One is that different variables aside from a smooth plane throw her off.  This was true when she learned to walk too.  She could walk provided the surface was even and smooth; however, once anything changed she was falling to her knees.  This could include the slightest incline going downhill, uphill, or slant in the road.  Well, the same is true for learning to ride a bike as well.

    I should also mention, she doesn’t have typical reflexes thanks to her dyspraxia either; so where most children would at the very least put their legs down to help catch themselves, Ashlynn panics and ends up falling over.

    As I watched her tonight at the park, a wave of sadness rushed over me.  It’s so weird, these cycles of grief.  l know Ashlynn has dyspraxia.  I know it will take her longer to overcome this obstacle, and I also know she WILL overcome it.  However, I start to worry.  Am I doing enough?  Am I helping her enough?  What about those special needs bicycle camps another mom told me about.  Should I have picked that this year instead of choosing to send her back to the $3000 special needs camp she loved and adored last year?  After all, there is only so much money to go around.  Am I choosing the right thing?

    On the way home, she was gaining confidence.  Where I walked beside her on the way to the park, I was now jogging and at times running to make sure I kept up on the way home.  She was doing great with her balance.  We were riding on the sidewalk, and she would only tip over when going past a driveway where there would be a downward slant.  I would run beside her and steady the handle bars.  I started to notice though that she would stop pedaling during these times.  I encouraged her to KEEP pedaling through the hardest obstacle, which was the driveway. I realized the reason she was losing her balance wasn’t necessarily because of the driveway, or obstacle; but because she would STOP pedaling during it.

    It reminded me recently of a white water rafting trip we just took the kids on.  I joked (but was dead serious) that I only slightly panicked most of the time.  On the bus ride to the drop off, the guide was going through all of the safety precautions and I started to freak out. Truth be told, I actually go to the bank of the river and told the guide we weren’t going.  Fortunately for me and my family, he convinced me to get on the raft.  This after I explained dyspraxia and her difficulties with balance and coordination and my concerns for her safety and ability to follow directions if bumped out of the raft.

    He told me he would put me right behind her, would have straps my kids could hold onto for balance, and during the times he didn’t need me to paddle, I could hold onto her shoulder.  However, he did say that when he told us to paddle, he NEEDED us to paddle because that is what was going to ensure the best stability in the raft for getting through rapids.  I struggled with my fear.  I looked at my kids eager to go, my husband shaking his head at me disapprovingly for threatening to allow my fear to ruin the fun; but then ultimately I thought of Ashlynn and how she faces every fear head on and I knew I had to do the same and do what the guide told me to do.  I put every ounce of my being into paddling when he said to paddle and made sure I was in step with my husband’s paddle on the other side.

    During the times I didn’t have to paddle though, yes, I was holding her shoulder. ‘

    Not to make excuses, but I did watch this girl drown once and I still can’t re-read that post.

    Anyway, back to the bike.  At the driveways I kept yelling “keep pedaling Ashlynn.”  She stopped after awhile and told me she wanted to get off and walk her bike home.

    “No, Ashlynn.  I’m sorry.  I’m not yelling at you okay?  I’m proud of you!! I’m just telling you that to get through the hard parts you have to KEEP pedaling okay?  Remember last weekend when we went white water rafting and our guide told mommy and daddy to keep paddling during the really big rapids?”

    “Yes,” she replied hesitantly.

    “I was really scared Ashlynn.  I was so scared if I didn’t have my hand on your shoulder you would pop out but I knew to get through the rapid as smoothly as we did I had to keep paddling and not stop.”

    “Yeah?” she said.

    “Yeah baby.  So that’s all okay?  Don’t give up!!  During the hard times we have to keep paddling.  You have to keep pedaling and you won’t fall okay?”

    She looked ahead of her with grit on her face and she flexed her thigh muscles and started pedaling again.  I ran beside her all the way home.

    As I was reflecting, I remembered a moment on our camping trip we came back from yesterday.  She was sitting with her Grandma and baby cousin reading “Brown Bear” to her.  I took this video, and when she caught me she said with a big grin,

    “I want to be a teacher mama.”

    As I hugged her tonight, I told her,

    “You already are.”

  • Diagnosis, Disability, and Finding your Tribe

    Diagnosis, Disability, and Finding your Tribe

    ​Parenting children is hard.  That isn’t a secret.  Parenting a child with a disability has even extra challenges that shake us to our core.

    I have a daughter with special needs and numerous learning challenges.  When she was almost three, she received her first diagnosis of Childhood Apraxia of Speech, a rare and severe speech disorder in children.  That was the beginning of many a “dark day” in my parenting journey with her.  I remember putting her in her car seat, tears in my eyes as her bright blue eyes smiled back at me and seemed to ask, “why are you crying?”  I sobbed that day.  I cried for so many reasons.  Fear, uncertainty, guilt and confusion.  I texted a friend I was devastated, and I truly felt like I had the wind knocked out of me.

    Slowly I found a community of parents who had children with apraxia as well; and I started to feel hope again.  I started to believe what was possible for their children was possible for mine as well.  I found my tribe, as I like to say.  All these parents understood me, my daughter, our challenges and the significance of our small successes!  I discovered there was a walk to honor kids like mine and spread awareness.  I connected with others in my community and no longer felt alone.  I no longer felt devastated but instead felt blessed by the friendships I had formed.

    My daughter has went on to receive multiple and additional disabilities since that first one of apraxia.  I can’t lie.  Each new diagnosis, report, or low test score feels like a punch in the gut all over again.  However, we have our people now.  We have our tribe.  We have others who understand.  They understand that sometimes you are in such a state of deep grief you can do nothing else but cry and cannot face the world that day.  We also know that stage doesn’t last, and when a member of our tribe is down, we will rally around them and be ready to pick they back up when they are ready to face the day again.

    I learned that some of my darkest nights were followed by the most glorious sunrise; and I found that sunshine in the community around us.  No one should suffer alone.  No matter the struggle, we should all find others who understand our unique situation in the world.  For us, community was the light that found its way into the dark tunnel of grief and showed us the way out.

  • SLP Mommy Top 10 posts of 2017

    SLP Mommy Top 10 posts of 2017

    I started this blog in 2012, shortly after my daughter’s diagnosis of apraxia when she was just under three. Since that time, she has made tremendous growth.  She speaks, she speaks clearly, and she can tell me about her day. She can tell me when people are mean to her, what her teacher said that was funny, and what she had for lunch.  These were all things she couldn’t do and I worried she would never be able to do when she was first diagnosed.

    We’ve added more diagnoses through the years including a language disorder, dyspraxia, ADHD, dysarthria, and this year….dyslexia.

    In spite of all of these challenges, watching my now 8 year old daughter wake up each morning and attack the day with happiness, kindness, bravery, and a resilience that is unmatched inspired me to do the same.  I always think, I have NONE of her issues….what’s my excuse?

    This blog/website has grown with an average of 300 visitors daily.  Whether you are a professional, parent, or just someone who cares, thank you so much for following along and being part of my desire to spread apraxia awareness in the hopes of helping every child with apraxia to achieve intelligible speech.

    Here is the Top Ten Countdown to my most read posts of 2017.  Cheers to 2018!

    10. As children walk to find their voice, local news outlets stay silent.

    “I have to say I want to give up sometimes.  It seems like no one is going to care and sometimes the fight just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.  But then I look at these smiling faces who never give up, and like the song says, I need to get up again to see what’s next.”

    9. It feels like home this year: Apraxia Conference 2017

    “Have you ever stopped to think, and then believe, that one person, ONE, could change the life of hundreds; if not thousands, if not millions of others?”

    8. Whatever it takes: A day on the brink.

    “She’s finally in bed. I have the song “Whatever it takes” on again.  Tomorrow is a new day.”

    7. It’s like juggling 8 balls and desperately hoping one doesn’t roll away. 

    “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just worry about the speech, or just worry about the motor skills, or just worry about homework or just worry about executive functioning, or just worry about language processing.”

    6. It’s rare so no one cares? Prevalence of CAS.

    “Would it surprise you then if I told you the prevalence rates for Down Syndrome are 1-2 children in every 1000 births.  Sound familiar?  Maybe that’s just because I just wrote that figure for CAS.”

    5. “She’s a puzzle” or…she has dyspraxia.

    “I don’t want professionals to tell me she’s a puzzle.  I don’t want to know that she’s so unusual that her very being challenged your knowledge, or that you are confused by her.”

    4. No, not another diagnosis.  Adding dyslexia to apraxia. 

    “In that moment, my dear readers, I had the same gut feeling I had when that SLP told me back when Ashlynn was 2:11 “Laura this is apraxia.”

    3. The Hulk and Rousey on struggling to speak.

    “Everyone is handicapped either physically, mentally, or emotionally.  It’s all about maximizing what you have.  As a kid I had trouble speaking.  It’s all about overcoming adversity.”

    2. Apraxia, special ed, and grad school.  One woman’s remarkable tale.

    “Whatever you accomplish in life will be perfect, as long as you keep loving yourself for who you are.”

    1. The Problem with School SLP’s

    “They cannot “refer out” or “discharge for lack of progress” as an can be done in private speech. No, the school SLP is expected to figure it out regardless of the lack of resources, lack of funding, or lack of time.”

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  • Whatever it takes: A day on the brink

    Whatever it takes: A day on the brink

    Ashlynn had oral surgery today to fix a ridiculously thick upper labial frenulum that was impacting her front teeth.  I have anxiety.  That’s no secret.  I was pretty nervous.  I had like every prayer warrior I could think of praying for her.

    It’s not that serious of a surgery in the grand scheme of things; but she was going to have to take a valium the night before, and then one and hour before and one right before surgery.

    I gave her the valium pill  (meaning I watched wringing my hands while my husband gave her the pill) and waited.  The surgeon said the pharmacist may fuss at the prescription, especially since she is tiny, but not to worry.  Um……telling a worrier not to worry is like telling the sun not to come up.  Actually it might be worse.  It made me freak out more than had he said nothing and just prescribed the pill.

    I immediately decided she would sleep with me, because if I woke up I needed to hear her breathing. That was basically a joke because the valium made her hyper and crazy emotional.  She would laugh hysterically and then just start balling uncontrollably.  Every emotion was magnified and out of her control.  She talked incessantly and didn’t get to bed until 10!!  Despite this, I kept her home from school because I figured she would feel pretty tired.

    Wrong

    She woke up on the right side of the bed happy and ready.  In hindsight, I should have just sent her to school and then taken her out when it was time for the procedure.  She was also (and she told me multiple times) very MAD I was not letting her go to school. It’s amazing right?  She has no close friends, struggles in every subject, and was just bullied recently…..but she’s mad I didn’t send her.  Her internal resolve and determination is incredible.

    Anyway, I digress.  I let her graze on food all day since she would only be able to eat soft foods after the surgery.  I gave her the second valium an hour before and it made her hyper again.  She was talking incessantly, and at the doctor’s office she was literally jumping and running in the lobby.  If you know my child, she is pretty much the opposite of a sensory seeker, so seeing her do this on a drug that’s supposed to make you sleepy was crazy town.

    The doctor made the decision in light of her behavior not to give her the third valium. The procedure went amazing.  The surgeon and his team were amazing and awesome with kids.  Ashlynn though was awesome too.  High tolerance for pain means she didn’t even flinch when the needle went in for the anesthetic.  He asked her to close her eyes, but I explained she wasn’t going to be able to do that on demand because of her motor planning issues, but seeing a needle wasn’t going to freak her out.  She gave blood for her genetic testing last summer staring at the needle and joking with the flabotomist that she was “taking a lot of blood wasn’t she?”  The flabotomist remarked in her whole career Ashlynn was the only person who smiled giving blood. LOL

    So that’s the good part.  Everything else was pretty much a shit show.  I’m sorry to cuss, but sometimes it’s the only words that cut it. The doctor’s orders were clear.  Relax, take it easy, eat soft foods, do medicated mouthwash rinses (which turned into salt water rinses since Ashlynn can’t spit), alternate ibuprofen and tylenol, and keep lips closed and ice the outside. Sounds basic.  I got in my car and turned on Imagine Dragons “Whatever it Takes.”  I told Ashlynn it was our song.  We do whatever it takes to help her.  We never give up. We do what it takes.  I was feeling pretty good.

    However, Ashlynn apparently thought it was opposite day.  She immediately and incessantly kept talking.  I kept telling her to keep her lips closed and then she would burst into tears that I was being mean to her and not letting her talk.  I calmed her down with the promise of a present.  That was short lived because she kept biting the ice pack (hello SPD).  If I corrected her to not bite it, she became hysterical.  Hysterical = bad because she could rip out the sutures.

    “Fine just give me the ice pack and talk.  Throwing a tantrum will rip out the sutures.”

    We picked up her brother, and he was trying to be helpful and told her (nicely) to stop talking so she doesn’t bleed.  That was code for “Let’s go to War” in Ashlynn’s world and they started fighting on the way home.  My stress was at a 10.

    Once home, she decides she’s famished.  Not hungry…FAMISHED.  She can only eat soft foods.  I feed her two bowls of noodles, 5 yes FIVE pieces of bread, countless squares of cheese, a banana, and then an ensure calorie drink I had my husband pick up on the way home.  After dishes I go downstairs and find her eating gummies she got out of the storage room!!

    “What the hell are you doing??”  You can’t eat gummies!!!”

    Not my finest moment I know.  She burst into tears I was yelling at her.  Told me again how mean I was being.  Again, she is supposed to be resting.  Most kids who took valium would be asleep.  Nope.  Not my kid.  I go downstairs again to find her bouncing on our big yoga ball.

    “Ashlynn….you’re supposed to be taking it EASY!!  Get up upstairs and watch a movie!!”

    Ashlynn hates movies.  She is 8 years old and due to a visual processing motor problem and language processing issues, she cannot follow the story line of an entire movie and therefore has never watched one completely through.  She bursts into tears again, throws a tantrum and guess what?  Her suture finally decided it had enough stress and started bleeding.

    I got a washrag and applied pressure just like the doctor said to do.  She seemed to realize it was somewhat serious now.  My son was majorly freaking out trying to help me out.  Ashlynn was still mad I had been mean to her.

    Bedtime came and I had to try and do a salt water rinse.  She still can’t spit.  She has one motor plan.  Swallow.  She can’t chew gum either for this reason.  First sip.  She swallows.  Second sip.  She swallows.  Third sip, she somewhat spits all over my mirror but I praise her.  Fourth sip, she swallows.  Fifth sip, spits all over my mirrors.  I have NO idea if any reached her suture, but we tried.

    She’s finally in bed. I have the song “Whatever it takes” on again.  Tomorrow is a new day.  Dang parenting his hard, but I can’t give up.

    Whatever it takes.

    Playing on snapchat trying to get her to be quiet and keep her lips closed!

  • Happy 8th Birthday Bug Bug.

    Happy 8th Birthday Bug Bug.

    [wysija_form id=”1″]Mr. B,  here is your beautiful baby girl.

    My dad would say this to me EVERY birthday.  I’m not exaggerating.  I was born 10 year after my sister, and it wasn’t customary to hand the baby to the father so early; so when my parents had me and my dad held me for the first time, this phrase was forever burned into his mind.

    My due date was October 16th.  The four days following my due date were excrutiating.  I wanted to meet you so bad Ashlynn.  Each day passed and  you still didn’t come.

    It was a Monday night football game on the 19th of October, 2009. I was having Braxton hicks contractions like I had had all month, but this time I was distracted by the Bronco game!  I paced up and down the hallway trying to forget the pain as I cheered on our home team.

    When the game ended, the contractions were intense but erratic.  Being my first baby, I didn’t know if I should go in or not.  I finally called the on  call doc who said to come in.  Your dad took me to the hospital in a big and burly blue Dodge Ram. The ride was anything but smooth, and each bump brought pain.

    After laboring from 11:00 PM on Monday to 8:00 AM on Tuesday, you were born.  I can remember the exact moment.  I can remember the smell of the room, the blue of the cover, the humanity in the anesthesiologist, and then the moment I saw you.  They raised you up above the cover and I stared at the most beautiful wrinkled sight of red pink skin and tears I had ever seen.  My eyes streamed with tears and so did your dads.

    Our baby had been born to us.

    I have always found it funny since that day, Tuesday, October 20th, 2009, that your birthday was your happiest day.  I mean, I hope it is, and I will do everything I can do to make sure it is.  But, your birthday, and the birthday of your brother; were two of the most happiest days of MY life.

    Today is Thursday.  I am tired.  It’s been a long week. However, every birthday since we’ve lived in this house, I have hung balloons in our hallway for you to pass through on your birthday.  I thought about not doing it, but then I thought, you and your brothers birthdays were the happiest days of MY LIFE.  Losing sleep is a small price to pay to celebrate the happiest day of one’s life.

    So I stayed up and blew up the balloons and I hung them in the hall.  I watched old videos and smiled until tears flowed from my eyes.   I can’t believe you are 8 years old.  I can’t believe just a few short years ago life was so hard that my mantra was “the days are long but the years are short.”  Here we are.  The days were long and I blinked and you are 8 and when I blink again you will be 16.

    I’m so blessed to be your mother.  I want you to know I am ALWAYS proud of you.  Your friendliness undeniable, your determination unstoppable, and your spirit, unparalleled.

    Behind your name are a countless number of diagnoses, but they do not and never have defined you.  You have learned to overcome.  You have learned to press on.  You have learned happiness is found in simplicity.  You have learned that the secret to life is gratitude, and despite all of your challenges, I couldn’t be prouder.

    Happy Birthday “bug bug.”  I love you more than words could ever, ever say; and trust me, this writer usually has a lot to say.