Since April is Autism Awareness month, I'm going relate what happened the day I was told my son was autistic.
Mikey was over three years old and still didn't talk, and I was very worried. I took him to be assessed. The doctor asked me questions about his development and observed Mikey while writing notes on her pad.
“I know my son has some developmental delays,” I finally said after nervously watching the doctor watch my son, “but the prognosis is good for that, isn't it? I can work with him myself and get him into speech therapy.”
The doctor’s face had a slight tense smile on it. “Your son is autistic. I could tell as soon as I began to watch him.”
I had been picking up a toy from the floor as the doctor spoke. The toy crashed back down to the floor as I tried to absorb the doctor’s words. My brain was frozen in some sort of blind panic. My instinct was to rush out of the room so I couldn’t hear another word.
“But…but,” I spluttered. “At the last check-up he had, no one said anything about...” My sentence trailed off as I noticed Mikey spinning in circles. The doctor’s glance followed mine.
“I know this must be a shock to you,” the doctor said, still smiling in a stilted professional way. “But I’m making this judgment based on the following observations.” She looked at the notes in her lap. “Since I entered this room, your son has shown no interest in me. Most children are curious about strangers. And do you see this big bag? I put it away from me after you sat down, and slightly opened it. Most children will try and see what’s inside. Your son has shown no such curiosity.”
“Well, why would he care what’s in your bag,” I began, but the doctor’s next words ran over mine like a truck flattening a Coke can.
“Have you noticed how obsessed your son is with small things like screws? He’s found every screw on the equipment in this office already.”
“But he’s just interested.”
“He’s not interested – he’s obsessed. Children developing normally don’t display these characteristics.”
Then the doctor said: “Your son should also have a vocabulary by now. Yet all I’ve heard him say this afternoon is one word– ‘no’.”
I put my head in my hands to steady myself against the medical onslaught.
The doctor scanned her notes then looked at me. “Does your son play with children his age? Does he have any friends?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Isolation from other children,” she nodded, “that’s another common trait in autistic children. They don’t like socializing.”
After the appointment was over, I walked around my house like a zombie, not knowing what to think or do. I was in such a daze that I even went to a drinks thing at my domineering rich next-door neighbour's house that evening because I didn't want to let her down. How stupid I was to put everyone else's needs above my own.
I wouldn't do that now. I guess getting older does have some benefits.
5 comments:
THIS IS A VERY DISTURBING CONDITION AND ADDS TO THE ALREADY DIFFICULT TASK OF BRINGING UP A CHILD IN TODAYS WORLD. BUT FROM READING YOUR BLOG, IF ANYONE IS CAPABLE OF RAISING HIM, AND GIVING A STABLE AND LOVING ENVIRONMENT, YOU ARE. YES HE WILL SEE THINGS DIFFERENTLY TO MOST, BUT SOMETIMES, THAT IS A GOOD THING. AT LEAST YOU HAVE HIM, I KNOW PEOPLE WHO WILL NEVER HAVE A CHANCE TO RAISE THEY'RE OWN CHILD. THE BIT ABOUT PUTTING OTHER PEOPLE FIRST, I THINK IS A SHOCK REACTION AS I DID THE SAME THING WHEN I HAD BAD NEWS OF MY FARTHER.
Anonymous, tell me what you did on the day you heard about your father. It sounds interesting.
For those reading this blog who don't know Mikey personally, I'd like to give my observations, as I've known him all his life. Well---I have not seen him in 3 years or so, and I understand he's become a Typical Teen, but I still feel I know him well.
Yes, he was a difficult toddler, and I do remember the desperate troubles Eliz and Mel had with him, when he'd fight against his bedtime, or experience some frustration that would send him (and the household) into a tailspin for a few hours. As I was a houseguest, I just assumed that (like most tots) he was angry about having a stranger about, invading his territory. Having never met (knowingly) an autistic child, such a possibility never occurred to me. When Eliz told me later of this diagnosis, I'm ashamed to confess that I thought she was being overly dramatic---after all, he was a beautiful, brilliant, healthy tyke---no way could this cherub be in any way "abnormal." I didn't have brothers, and my only child is a girl, so I just ascribed his tantrums to being "all boy" and assumed that all guys, at age 2-3-4, threw fits and obsessed about things. All that testosterone, poor little things...
As Mikey grew, and as I learned more about autistic spectrum disorder(thanks to a good friend who is now getting her doctorate in childhood development, at the May Institute in Boston) I saw that my little buddy was, indeed, not quite like others.
I remember one day, when he was about 5, I was visiting the Thomases in Sherborne St. John, and Elizabeth had to go to work. I offered to wait with Mikey by the street, for his ride to school. We stood there for about ten minutes, and he was perfectly chatty---well, there were a lot of non sequiturs in the conversation---instead of answering my questions, he'd go off on his own tangent, but hey---he was four, no biggie.
The last time I saw Mikey, he was ten, and over here in the States for his great-grandmother's funeral. He and his mom stayed with us, and Mikey and I buddied around a good bit while Eliz went to visit relatives, friends, and sneak giant bags of Krystal Burgers and Krispy Kremes:):)...anyway, Mikey and I played with my dogs, who simply worshipped him, drove around town playing ENDLESS games of Name the Capitals of Countries (trust me, the kid knew the capital of the most obscure tiny country on the globe!) I, of course, being a geographical idiot, was being beaten soundly, so I suggested that we switch games. Before I could get us started on something easy like "I Spy," Master Mikey had whipped me straight into an intense game of his choosing, called "Vrai ou Faux" ("true or false.") Idea being, one of us would say a sentence in French, and the other would have to say if it were true or false. Well, he knew more French than I did, but we managed---for a SOLID HOUR! Asperger's kids know no weariness once they get going on a game or project---I feel sure that, had Eliz not returned to the house, Mikey and I would still be (he energetically, me weakened to the point of expiring) sitting at my kitchen table, trading questions like, "Un chat a cinq jambes, VRAI ou FAUX?"
Eliz and Mel have done an astounding job raising their son. I know perfectly well that I'd have collapsed under such a Herculean effort.
But Mikey's a rather special lad, too, and I (and my dear departed doggies) thank him for many enjoyable hours in his company. If not for him, I might have had gross misperceptions about what being "autistic" means...as it is, I know that people afflicted thusly are bright, unique, and absolutely incapable of telling lies and acting maliciously. And certainly capable of affection, though they may show it differently.
They are the innocents among us, and the high-functioning ones have the added difficulty of knowing they are somehow "different." What daily torture that would be, without the comfort and support of those who love them and understand them.
I look forward to Mikey coming of (drinking) age so that he and I can sit down and have a chat over a nice cocktail. I count him as a friend.
WELL I'LL TELL, BUT I'M NOT PROUD OF THIS, BUT YOU LEARN AS TIME GOES ON. I WAS RUNNING A LOCAL DEPO AND GOT THE CALLL MID MORNING FROM MY MUM THAT MY FARTHER HAD HAD A SUSPECTED STROKE AND MY UNCLE HAD TAKEN HIM TO HOSPITAL. IF THAT HAD HAPPENED NOW I WOULD HAVE JUST LEFT AND GONE STRAIGHT TO THEM. BUT THEN (10 YEARS AGO)AS I WAS THE KEY HOLDER I WAITED AND JUST WENT HOME EARLY AFTERNOON WHEN COVER ARRIVED. LUCKERLY IT WAS MINOR, AND HE HAS SINCE MADE A 95% RECOVERY. AT THE TIME I THOUGHT HE WAS INDESTRUCTABLE, INFACT I LEARNED HE WAS INDESPENSIBLE. ITS ALL A LEARNING CURVE. BY THE WAY bwj, THATS A LOVELY POST!!!
BWJ, what a wonderful comment to make, thanks. Mikey read it and was very touched and wanted to say thanks so I said I would tell you.
And Anonymous, thank goodness you had the extra chance to be with your father. I can see you still feel a little guilty but it all turned out fine -- but a good lesson to all of us to do what we need to do sometimes instead of always being so obedient to rules & the wishes of other people.
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