Sitting in the psychologist’s office was proving to be more difficult than I had expected. This was the fourth “session” I had been through with him, but today, the unmistakable static sound emanating from his noise machine resembled something similar to a chainsaw. This was a new feature piece to the office, or at least the first time I was sharing space with the device while it was turned on. “At least the fluorescent lights were off,” I silently told myself.
I was there to complete my evaluation for autism spectrum disorder and receive the results from the four hours of testing, not including the additional interviewing that had occurred during the same day’s meeting. It would be appropriate to say I was anxiously pensive.