It is September 1994.

"Your son has an Attention Deficit Disorder and severe dyslexia. If he doesn't get the help he needs, your only alternative is to send him to a language disorders boarding school."

Nope, not MY son. My son already had diabetes, and we were just beginning to feel comfortable with two shots a day and the multitude of blood tests. He couldn't possibly have any other problems.

But he did.

The diagnosis shattered me. The $1,000 worth of tests indicated that my 12-year old son was operating in a classroom as a 7-year old, and we had to do something . . . fast.

I honestly didn't know how on earth we could cope with ADD medication on top of insulin and the diabetes schedule. Medications can affect blood sugars and cause the diabetes to zoom out of control. Plus Ritalin and Dexedrine, the most common ADD medications, are also appetite suppressants. My son had to eat in order to offset the insulin.

Not only that, but my experience with ADD kids on medications wasn't a pleasant one. I'd seen "zombified" kids who were on high dosages of ADD medications, and I refused to allow it to happen to Ryan.

>From a medical standpoint, Ryan had to be able to tell if he was having a low blood sugar reaction, so he couldn't be on too high a dose.

The doctor's office told us that Ryan needed language therapy at the school twice a week plus a certified speech pathologist as a tutor after school.

However, the school didn't agree. Because Ryan hadn't actually failed two subjects, they didn't recognize the problems, and they wouldn't accept the test results.

The school was of no help, and the doctor's office had done its part with the testing. It was up to us, but I had no idea what to do.

At the time, I'd been on Prodigy for around six months and had posted notes to their Diabetes bulletin board. So, I posted a note to the Attention Deficit Disorder board pleading for help.

A psychotherapist from Los Angeles answered my post. In his practice, Ron worked with adult ADD patients and served as an advocate for children with ADD in the schools. But he didn't spout off impressive credentials in the beginning. Instead, he became a friend.

The first thing he told me was that he and both of his boys had ADD. He said that while there are many "horror" stories about the misuse of ADD medications, there are just as many success stories, like his and his family's.

It was obvious from our first correspondence that he knew what he was talking about. For every question I asked, he knew the answers and how to solve any problems. He explained everything in layman's terms so that even a distraught mother could understand. Medications, behavior modifications, school problems--we discussed them all.

Ron told me that we needed to schedule a 504 hearing for Ryan, develop classroom accommodations, and establish an Individual Education Plan (IEP), but I didn't understand what all of this meant. So, Ron dictated letters for me to send to the school.

We emailed back and forth every day, talked on the phone, and even chatted online. I faxed him Ryan's test results, and he was quick to reassure me that the results weren't the end of the world as I'd initially been led to believe. He counseled ME as much as he helped me get assistance for Ryan.

Because he served as an advocate in the educational system in California, he knew the legalities involved and was well versed in the classic red tape and brick walls I kept running up against. He gave me the names and phone numbers of advocacy groups who could assist me locally.

When the school tried to convince me that there was nothing they could do to help, Ron was there to show me that I didn't have to be a victim--that there was something I could do to fight back.

With Ron's help, I was able to understand the system in order to make sure Ryan got the help he was entitled to. I know that if he hadn't been there to virtually hold my hand through the entire three to four months it took to complete the process, Ryan would have been the one who suffered.

How did I know I could trust Ron? From the beginning, his knowledge of ADD and the process it took to get help was obvious. He was always there for me, a total stranger, with no thought of reimbursement or benefit to himself. In fact, I know I took up an enormous amount of his time, but he was always sincerely glad to help.

I couldn't have afforded to pay him what he deserved for the amount of work he did on Ryan's case, yet he didn't want or ask for a dime.

Why did he help me when there was nothing in it for him? He told me that he could tell I wanted to help myself, that I wasn't expecting someone else to do it for me. He knew I worked with the parents of newly diagnosed diabetic children, and he said that told him all he needed to know. He helped me, and I turned around and helped someone else.

Though I thanked him many times, he didn't even expect my gratitude and it almost embarrassed him. In fact, he doesn't even know I've written this story as a tribute to him and the positive things that can come out of the Internet.

Ron deserves a public "thank you," and you can be assured I'll send him this URL.