One Family's Journey with Autism Part 1
(Village Crier, Issue 100, Citrus Hills Florida)
Autism. What is it? Why are so many children affected by it? How are our children getting this debilitating disorder? Is it genetics? Is it environmental? Well, the answers to these questions will depend upon who you ask. Currently there is disagreement amongst the medical communities as to exactly what autism is or what causes it. On one side of the fence are those medical professionals who have been trained to believe that autism is the result of genetics gone awry and is psychological in nature. Often times these parents are told that there are no known treatments to autism other than behavior modification aided by mood-controlling drugs (Prozac, Zoloft, etc), stimulants (Ritalin, Adderall, etc.) or behavior-controlling drugs such as Risperdal. On the other side of the fence are those those professionals who have not settled for the prevailing or mainstream notion that autism is primarily in one's head, but may stem from a variety of physiological factors such as immune deficiencies caused by gastrointestinal problems and environmental toxin which serve to slow or shut down normal biochemical pathways in the body and lead to the physical manifestations called autism. Parents here are often told there is hope and help for their autistic child through biomedical interventions. In short, "heal the gut, feed the starving brain, treat for pathogens, remove the toxins and help the immune system every way possible", (Jacquelyn McCandless, MD, Children With Starving Brains). Now, if you were in search of help for your autistic child, which side of the fence would you hop on over to?
I know which way I would choose. . . and did! You see, I have been on both sides of the fence as a mother of a now 8 year old autistic boy. I searched for 5 long exhausting years for someone to help me and give me answers as to why my son use to bang his head against the wall, break lamps and TVs, throw sippie cups through windows and tantrum uncontrollably because the maple syrup would soak into the tiny squares on his waffles. Why he would meltdown, hitting himself & me, covering his ears and eyes in the car, at the Wal-Mart, at the Publix, at the playground. Looker bees would stare with judgment and even say to me "all that child needs is a good whack on the fanny to stop that spoiled-brattish behavior." I would walk away to my car in tears, thinking "are they right?" Am I raising a spoiled brat? Why would my completely normal, lovable baby boy shut-down at preschool. Why wouldn't he speak or eat at school? Why would he just stare blankly into space while the other children were coloring, cutting & pasting and laughing together? Why did my beautiful, perfectly normal little boy just go away from us, losing most of his verbal skills, toileting skills and fine motor skills, and most of all his heart-warming loving ways? Why wouldn't he even look at me? It was as if someone or something evil had pulled the soul right out of our son's body and left us with this empty, unresponsive shell.
After many tears and sleepless nights, I journeyed down the road to Medical Main Street. My first stop was the pediatrician. I explained my concerns about the self-injurious behaviors, tantrums, loss of verbal skills, etc. and was met with an unconcerned response that our son was just exhibiting "boys will be boys" behavior. "After all, boys do mature slower than girls". As I walked out of the pediatrician's office, I felt more confused than ever about our son's prognosis. . ."boys will be boys". . what the hell kind of prognosis is that! As us moms sometimes do, I dismissed my own feelings and what I knew to be true, and foolishly convinced my self that the doctor knew better. After all, he's the doctor, medical degrees and all, and I'm just the mom. After many months of living day to day with no answers as to why our son continued to exhibit, what we now know to be autism (delayed speech, lack of eye contact, impaired or non-present social skills, shyness, perseverative behavior, delayed gross or fine motor skill, sensory integration issues (sound & touch sensitivities, etc.) not responding to one's name, inflexibility with transitions, and major, often unexplained, changes in mood), we journeyed northward on Medical Main Street.
We had an appointment with a specialist who was, so we thought, well acquainted with what we were experiencing. Finally, we thought, answers for our child and for us as a family! Yeah, no more head banging, no more perusing Dollar General for new lamps, no more bruises on mommy from trying to keep the Tasmanian devil from hurting himself, no more meltdowns over waffles! Six hours later & hundreds of dollars lighter, we drove home trying to grasp this prognosis of "Oppositional Defiance Disorder. This is ludicrous, I thought, boys will most assuredly be boys, I get that. They will be defiant, most children are at one time or another. Hell, I was at the top of the list for "Queen of the Rebels"! But, this prognosis doesn't explain to me why my son could read 3-letter words at at the age of two, but not at three, nor why he was so happy & playful at two, but not at three, why he would go ballistic when I ran the garbage disposal and why he would unbuckle his seat belt while the car was moving and hit me in the back of the head simply because he perceived there were too many cars on the road. I'm losing my mind, I thought to myself. Doesn't anybody, except me, see that we have a definite problem here!
My faith started to dwindle and life with this little boy got more difficult. Then one day, my mom came by and gave me a Time magazine to read entitled "Inside the Autistic Mind". I her thanks and quickly threw it onto my "I'll get to it some day" pile. Well, "some day" came sooner rather than later. I read the article in record time, all the while saying "this is our son, this is our son, THIS IS OUR SON"! It then dawned on me, I don't want this to be our son! As quickly as night turns to day and day into night, I devoured everything I could read about Autism while thanking God for hearing my prayers. Cuz I'll tell you boy, I was so, so close to taking our son to an exorcist. There was no other logical explanation.
Third times a charm! Third times a charm. . .I kept saying this to myself as we ventured two hours southward this time on Medical Main Street. Wow! I had a new hope for our son and hope for us as a family that we would survive this nightmare. Finally, we're going to get some answers and move forward.
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