Firstly I must start by saying that I have unlimited skills for making what are quite blindingly inappropriate statements. Not in a cruel heartless manner, more in the “really? that actually came out of your mouth?” type of way. I believe this is because my brain capacity is fully used up with All things Autism. (I’m hoping that will lesson with time, still waiting…) Friday was a perfect example, Hubby has a bad knee, I’m sure there is a more clinical term for it but lets just go with “bad knee” as I cant recall what I had for breakfast, never mind some highfalutin medical jargon. We trotted off to the Hospital (go private health care!!) and met a very eminent surgeon who also turned out to be from the Netherlands, in fact to be specific, from about 20 minutes down the road from where the Hubby was born (cue much rolling of eyes on my part, as I now knew we were going to be here for hours whilst they reminisced)
After much “ya, ya, ik ook” etc etc the Surgeon actually got round to looking at Hubbys knee, so he’s laid on the examination couch, with his knee being shoved in all different direction, until there is the most awful “Crunch!!” it was one of those noises that just makes your insides twist, like nails down a blackboard, not painful according to Hubby, but it was just one of those sounds that makes you go “ewwww!”, and out of my mouth came the immortal phrase, “Oh My God that made my fanny go funny!”…………….Hubby and Surgeon exchanged looks, and I swear the Surgeon said to Hubby, “Yes, my wife is English too, I understand”.
Anyway long story short we then had to troop round to the X-Ray dept for an MRI scan, we had been told it was nothing too serious, but we do like to pack as much angst into a month as possible. God forbid we take it easy for a few weeks……Hubby was slightly concerned about “being put in a tube”. As I have had two MRI’s myself I know its not actually as scary as it sounds, but of course I’m never one to miss an opportunity. So took great delight in telling him that any metal he had in his body would cause him to be suctioned to the top of the tube, and they might not be able to get him out. This is more amusing as when the Hubby was 16 he had a very nasty accident playing Rugby, and had his arm pinned in several places, and can never recall if there are still pins in there, or if they took them out…..hehehehe.
So whilst he was in there being turned into Magneto I decided to put pen to paper (ok fingers to ipad) and “blog”. As follows!:
Offspring very happy today, trotted into school happy as Larry (who actually is “Happy Larry”?!), so that bodes well for the weekend. Which is good as Hubby back at work and its just me, Charlie Banana and that gallon of Sauvignon.
Having had time to absorb and compute the meeting with the Educational Psychologist this week, I’ve come to the conclusion that this whole business is never going to be wrapped up nicely and handed to me in a decorative box, which is how I would choose to have most of my life presented to me, were that in the guidelines! Whilst this comes as no surprise, you do still harbour the hope that some medical professional is going to come along and say, “Ok folks, all done and dusted, you can stop worrying now, hes fine!”
The more I come to terms (I don’t think I’m kidding anybody with that statement right?!) with our sons disorder/condition/quirkiness, the more I feel a multitude of emotions, mostly of the terrifying, “oh shit oh shit oh shit” variety. But there are occasional moments of clarity, often prompted by things posted on facebook by friends, or other friends constant reminders that “he’s perfect”. Sometimes when your own heart gives up you have to rely on others to lend you theirs. These friends know who they are, and I hope they know how eternally grateful I will always be:)
You do have to wonder how I managed to have just the “one” child, and totally bugger it up!! Now I am by no means saying that mothers of children with autism are at fault. Not at all. I just haven’t got my head past the bit where i feel I am somehow responsible for all of this. I’m not convinced that sense of guilt will ever leave me.
The little fella has been taking high strength fish oils for 3 months, I read an interesting number of articles on how children on the ASD are often deficient in these oils. Though it was worth a try as it might help, they have seen enormous improvements in the reading skill of children taking high does of fish oils. Also figured the worse that would happen was I would have to scatter cornflakes on top of the bath water for when he came up to eat…
The irony of the above statement is that my little due can read perfectly well, when you give him a list of 100 words he will real them off, but he cant read you a story, there is no emotion or inflection in his voice and he reads like a robot, he also hates it.
As much as I play flippant I am actually pretty well informed about all of this ASD business, but sometimes its easier to play it light, less painfull and a good avoidance tactic. Nothing like pretending it isn’t happening on the bad days.
On a final note I have to say that putting a GIANT red button with “Cardiac” on in the toilet in the hospital has to be open to question, firstly if your having a cardiac arrest would you be well enough to reach 3 feet up the wall to press it? Secondly, people like me feel an almost desperate need to press the giant red button, “Because” its a giant red button!! Its not big, its not clever, I’m just saying…
theautismtrain 