Autism, Big Red Buttons…..and things that make you go “ewww!”

 

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…

Aspergers, and is being a drugs mule a career choice?

Loooong day yesterday, right up until I fell asleep on the sofa, mid Season 4, Disc 3 of Battlestar Galactica, which is a pain as I had my theory as to who the human cylon was all planned out. (Tragic isn’t it) Thought it was particularly decent of the Hubby to take a photo of me hanging half off the sofa, wrapped in the little fellas Spider-man blanket, complete with half eaten cornetto in hand. I tell you if I ever need sectioning they have “All” the photographic evidence they need!

Educational Psychologist was fun, in a completely non fun kind of way. Very nice lady, keen to help and very astute, compassionate, all round good egg really. But its yet another occasion when you have to regurgitate the information regarding your child, and all his little eccentricities. (lets call them that for now, it requires less use of the Valium..) It always makes me cry whenever we have to start from the beginning though, which seems to be something you spend a lot of time doing with this particular “illness”. With hindsight (oh if only!!) when I was considering investing in the Marlborough Estate Savuignon, I should also have looked into getting shares in Keelenx.

Its hard to tell what is basically a perfect stranger that you have a little oddball, and some of the stuff that goes on in our life is private, I don’t want to share it. (I realise the irony of that statement given that I’m blogging about it) Its not because I don’t to fully disclose the info, I mean that would be no help to anyone, but its hard to keep it together. When the emotion starts to take over I like to think calm thoughts, and deep breath, to enable myself to speak without breaking down all the time…… or not, I find thinking about people on my kill list works just as well……

It went well though, its another step towards the final goal (still figuring out quite what that is), and although I have doubts that the school will be as much use and help as required, I will at least attempt to be “on board” with them, up to a point. In my defence, before any Teachers out there take offence, I have tried to “play ball for the last 18 months. My son has been fortunate at times to have had wonderful, insightful, caring teachers, and at other times, those that really do not appear to be interested.  This is where my, “don’t get in my way!” attitude comes into play. Its a bit like Beyonce and her, “I am Sasha Fierce” persona, only less glamorous, and talented, and nowhere near as thin, and without the really big hair and thighs of steel. So actually a pretty rubbish metaphor, but im hoping the point is made.

On other matters I went shopping today with my Mother. (I would like to point out at this juncture that I do have other friends, its just that I really get on with my mum, and nobody else I know gets hysterical in changing rooms quite like she does, its so tempting to push her out mid “one leg in trouser and one leg out”, for the rest of the shop to enjoy the hilarity). We got caught in traffic on the way home and she managed to have a drink from a bottle of fizzy water, she then proceeded to get the giggles and then snort it down her nose, into her £200 handbag and then dissolve into hysterics. Bloke in front thought we were glue sniffers the amount of bubbles and peals of hysterical laughter coming from the car.

But back to my “attitude issues”. I don’t think I have an attitude “issue”,  I think I have an attitude. Two different things. He’s my child, end of. That’s where it starts and ends, nothing is too much trouble and nothing is too much work to see him succeed, and by this I don’t mean develop time travel, or become a brain surgeon, just to be happy,  content, and fulfilled.  Although Brain Surgery would be good because im fairly sure it pays well, Time Travel might be a leap, but we shall see!

On an entirely separate note the strain of yesterday seems to have messed with my brain, I had a really vivid dream last night that I had become a drugs mule….. This is laughable for so many reasons, and if you knew me well you would know that I am a) a shit liar, b) panic if I’ve taken two ibuprofen and have to go through customs at the airport, and c) would probably just take all the drugs myself. So as career choices go its not really a major option. Quite why my frazzled brain felt the need to get this creative is beyond me. But I’m not sure the Hubby was too impressed when I sat up in bed at 3am screaming “get that rubber glove away from me!”.

Speaking of the Hubby, hes a snorer, and I have zero tolerance as we all know. I have taken to stabbing him with a pair of tweezers when its really bad, and then when he shoots up from his peaceful, but noisy slumber, with a look of outrage on his face, I just just calmly say “honestly those cats are really malicious at times!” So far the plan works well, and as he has neither Facebook, nor reads my blog (divorce!!) I think I’m safe for a fair while longer.

But back to the roller-coaster that is the Autism Spectrum, hmm, well its  been another week of learning new things, and realising that the red tape is still very much in play. Which I understand on some levels, but on others could do without. Next stop is back to peadiatrician and a possible referral to CAMHS. I shall be referring myself to the nearest bottle of vino.

In other news one of my friends announced the other day she has found her first grey hair “down there!” It’s moments like this that make life worth living,  and really useful blackmail material should she ever piss me off:)