I'm drowning.
There is so much ready to pounce on us in the coming months it feels like everything is LOOMING over us like a teetering tower of monster blocks about to splat us under the weight.
Return to school, return to the Risperdone, Feral Aspie having anxiety attacks at Every.Little.Thing in his daily routine including using public transport and snapping his Myki card in half yet again - those suckers cost $10 a pop to replace, we've replaced 2 so far with a 3rd on the horizon cos Metcards are being phased out.
*sigh*
Return to Feral Aspie being bullied, misunderstanding others' social meanings, not hearing/processing what is said to him, getting hold of the wrong end of the stick and/or missing complete instructions from teachers.
He gets a free netbook through the school this year - I am FREAKING that he'll vague out and leave it on the bus, drop it, put it down to tie his shoelaces then walk off without it, play rugby with it (don't laugh, he played rugby while his broken arm was in a cast. And wondered why it hurt even more.It may have been the reason he had to have surgery to straighten the break.).
He turns 16 at the end of this year, which means we have to apply for adult carers allowance for him, which means we have to fill in a forest of paperwork and jump through hoops.
And plus HE'S TURNING 16.
Sixteen....SIXTEEN.
He already thinks he knows everything (yes, he does, if we're cataloguing dinosaurs, transformers, Hot Wheels cars, the family of arachnids and Minecraft).
Now there's news articles detailing how those with high functioning autism will lose their diagnosis, how Aspergers will disappear into being lumped into the autism umbrella, the scare-mongering is running rife.
In the long run there's going to be an ugly transition period where parents are going to have to fight to retain their kids original diagnosis, if only to claw back the measly few pennies they are granted to 'assist' with their child's disability.
Cos the freaking label might suddenly disappear like smoke when this new book gets published but the freaking disability doesn't.
I.Am.Drowning in a sea of anxiety, worry, panic attacks and all I can see when I try to look forward is a swirling black mess.
Showing posts with label Tourette's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tourette's. Show all posts
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Heat stroke Xmas pressie Happy New Year!
Thank you for your kind words in my previous post.
At the rate this kid is going he'll have 'speed walker' or cat walk model as his main career.
Let me explain....
I won't mention the fact he said something, somewhere and later told me about it and that I *may* have over-reacted to this thing that he said.
But I still maintain it was wrong....
I won't mention that he packed his bag, kicked out the fly-wire screen in his bedroom window (which was less like Chuck Norris and more like Sheldon trying to escape a swarm of flying ants) and took off on Christmas Eve.
Hot Christmas Eve.
With no money.
With having no brekkie or meds or fluids.
Because that would mean listening and doing as his parents had nagged him for a gazillion times.
Cos...what teen would do that?!
I won't mention that the police were called, that the air wing (helicopter) was alerted and in the sky searching for him.
I won't mention that he eventually returned, several hours later, with a delightful dose of heat stroke having speed walked to Carnegie station, then caught the train into the city and wandered about in the heat for some time (carrying a heavy backpack) before realising how thirsty he was.
I won't mention how ill he was, vomiting up all the fluids he drank until my nagging finally got through to him to sip it s-l-o-w-l-y.
Oh, yeah, I did the whole "I told you so" thing.
I won't mention how the little bugger has always been a challenge for keeping his fluids up in the heat but this year he's being contrary; digging his toes in and deliberately refusing to drink the more we nag.
Plus insisting on wearing cold weather clothing and sleeping under his thick, heavy, weighted blankets.
Which is his normal thing but it's becoming more marked as his anxiety rises with passing time, despite the increased meds (which could be feeding my anxiety but let's not mention that, ok?).
And complaining about the noise the fans make....him, not me.
Nor will I mention how getting him to eat is an adventure game in itself, as ceasing the Risperdone has robbed him of the false, increased appetite and we're back to the usual picking like a baby bird with the ritual "I'm not hungry,".
Unless it's chocolate...then he'll eat it until he's sick.
Literally.
Brown waves of a sickly ocean washing over the floor...not pretty.
He's dropping weight without even trying, which he's loving cos he was getting all self-conscious about the tiny pot belly he'd developed.
Tiny!!!
Now the non-existent hips aren't holding up the board shorts (no budgie smugglers in this household, thankyouverymuch).
I won't mention how much bribery runs this household... from this morning if he doesn't drink or eat when he's given fluids/food then he loses 30 mins of his precious game of Minecraft.
Any lip and he loses a further 30 mins.
He told me what he thought, which wasn't a lot, let me tell you.
But it's working.
For now.
Until he finds something else to irritate him.
Now, seeing as how I haven't mentioned a thing, let's hope 2012 is a splediferously wonderful year for us all!
At the rate this kid is going he'll have 'speed walker' or cat walk model as his main career.
Let me explain....
I won't mention the fact he said something, somewhere and later told me about it and that I *may* have over-reacted to this thing that he said.
But I still maintain it was wrong....
I won't mention that he packed his bag, kicked out the fly-wire screen in his bedroom window (which was less like Chuck Norris and more like Sheldon trying to escape a swarm of flying ants) and took off on Christmas Eve.
Hot Christmas Eve.
With no money.
With having no brekkie or meds or fluids.
Because that would mean listening and doing as his parents had nagged him for a gazillion times.
Cos...what teen would do that?!
I won't mention that the police were called, that the air wing (helicopter) was alerted and in the sky searching for him.
I won't mention that he eventually returned, several hours later, with a delightful dose of heat stroke having speed walked to Carnegie station, then caught the train into the city and wandered about in the heat for some time (carrying a heavy backpack) before realising how thirsty he was.
I won't mention how ill he was, vomiting up all the fluids he drank until my nagging finally got through to him to sip it s-l-o-w-l-y.
Oh, yeah, I did the whole "I told you so" thing.
I won't mention how the little bugger has always been a challenge for keeping his fluids up in the heat but this year he's being contrary; digging his toes in and deliberately refusing to drink the more we nag.
Plus insisting on wearing cold weather clothing and sleeping under his thick, heavy, weighted blankets.
Which is his normal thing but it's becoming more marked as his anxiety rises with passing time, despite the increased meds (which could be feeding my anxiety but let's not mention that, ok?).
And complaining about the noise the fans make....him, not me.
Nor will I mention how getting him to eat is an adventure game in itself, as ceasing the Risperdone has robbed him of the false, increased appetite and we're back to the usual picking like a baby bird with the ritual "I'm not hungry,".
Unless it's chocolate...then he'll eat it until he's sick.
Literally.
Brown waves of a sickly ocean washing over the floor...not pretty.
He's dropping weight without even trying, which he's loving cos he was getting all self-conscious about the tiny pot belly he'd developed.
Tiny!!!
Now the non-existent hips aren't holding up the board shorts (no budgie smugglers in this household, thankyouverymuch).
I won't mention how much bribery runs this household... from this morning if he doesn't drink or eat when he's given fluids/food then he loses 30 mins of his precious game of Minecraft.
Any lip and he loses a further 30 mins.
He told me what he thought, which wasn't a lot, let me tell you.
But it's working.
For now.
Until he finds something else to irritate him.
Now, seeing as how I haven't mentioned a thing, let's hope 2012 is a splediferously wonderful year for us all!
Friday, November 4, 2011
Some of The Secret Language explained
Ahhhh.
That's the sound of a deep, contented sigh.
My darling Feral Aspie geeky teen is getting some help through the school and is happy to discuss his issues.
Well, they are other kids' issues who have seen fit to make them Feral Aspie teen's issues but they are being dealt with.
We've done the usual "ignore them/ walk away/ don't speak back to them" speech for years.
And it is so much easier to say when you're not the person dealing with the angst, anxiety and fury at being the centre of someone else's bullying.
So, after another incident I sat him down and explained about "the secret language".
This is something you and I (and probably the Man in the Moon) know about instinctively.
But teens (mostly of the male variety) and those with difficulties reading social behaviours don't 'get it'.
I explained that someone teasing/bullying him is handing power over themselves to the victim.
When the victim ignores them, the bully ends up with egg on their face, looking like an idiot in front of friends.
And no feedback from the victim to continue the teasing.
But the moment the victim responds to the bullying they are handing the power back to the bully, feeding the monster with attention and giving them ammunition to continue.
When an older student gave them a mouthful of abuse as he walked past the other day, Feral teen and a friend automatically responded in kind.
In hindsight he understood how this inflamed the situation into shocking volumes.
I explained him to think of the Mountain Gorilla, sitting up banging his chest and grunting out a challenge to other males.
This is how this student (and most male teens) behave.
The moment people respond in kind it is the equivilent of the second male gorilla meeting the challenge and agreeing to a physical fight.
Feral Aspie teen understood immediately when I put "the secret language" into similies that he knew.
And, I think, he is finally understanding the intelligence behind the oft-repeated "ignore them/walk away" instructions as not a means to let the bully off but to keep the power in his own hands (and himself safe).
And now he's off at the GP getting his ingrown toenail - also known as the underlying bane of our existence - seen to.
So, I shall be waving my not-so-magic wand and disappearing myself into the backyard!
That's the sound of a deep, contented sigh.
My darling Feral Aspie geeky teen is getting some help through the school and is happy to discuss his issues.
Well, they are other kids' issues who have seen fit to make them Feral Aspie teen's issues but they are being dealt with.
We've done the usual "ignore them/ walk away/ don't speak back to them" speech for years.
And it is so much easier to say when you're not the person dealing with the angst, anxiety and fury at being the centre of someone else's bullying.
So, after another incident I sat him down and explained about "the secret language".
This is something you and I (and probably the Man in the Moon) know about instinctively.
But teens (mostly of the male variety) and those with difficulties reading social behaviours don't 'get it'.
I explained that someone teasing/bullying him is handing power over themselves to the victim.
When the victim ignores them, the bully ends up with egg on their face, looking like an idiot in front of friends.
And no feedback from the victim to continue the teasing.
But the moment the victim responds to the bullying they are handing the power back to the bully, feeding the monster with attention and giving them ammunition to continue.
When an older student gave them a mouthful of abuse as he walked past the other day, Feral teen and a friend automatically responded in kind.
In hindsight he understood how this inflamed the situation into shocking volumes.
I explained him to think of the Mountain Gorilla, sitting up banging his chest and grunting out a challenge to other males.
This is how this student (and most male teens) behave.
The moment people respond in kind it is the equivilent of the second male gorilla meeting the challenge and agreeing to a physical fight.
Feral Aspie teen understood immediately when I put "the secret language" into similies that he knew.
And, I think, he is finally understanding the intelligence behind the oft-repeated "ignore them/walk away" instructions as not a means to let the bully off but to keep the power in his own hands (and himself safe).
And now he's off at the GP getting his ingrown toenail - also known as the underlying bane of our existence - seen to.
So, I shall be waving my not-so-magic wand and disappearing myself into the backyard!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Do YOU socialise with 1000+ of your peers 5 days per week? Then you're just not socialising enough!
Right, you lot!
You, you and you - up the back, hiding behind the lamp post, chewing on your hair - you're all to come up here and give a public speech about how you all socialise with 1000+ of your peers every single day.
Come on now, surely you've been to school?
Surely you've been taught 'the proper way' to socialise with gazillions of total strangers you have nothing in common with and been taught to enjoy your discomfort even when most of them farted the alphabet in science class after egg sangas at lunch?
And, surely to goodness, you're continuing this tradition now that you're all growed up and socialised proper?
(the socialisation, not farting the alphabet around the water cooler to impress that weird work experience chick from accounting)
*rolls eyes*
No?!
What do you mean you "don't associate with that many people even at work" ????
Is this some kind of madness?
You've been to school, that's where you learn to socialise!
Maybe you didn't learn properly?!
I have been told that to ensure correct socialisation (which is apparently the cause of a teenager hearing voices and hurting himself) the answer is to send an anxiety-ridden, mentally unwell child back to an over-crowded secondary school.
Because, apparently, belonging to 4 different sporting clubs, a drama club, lapidary club, a social group with a social worker and psychologist on hand, not to forget having frequent excursions...none of these count.
Got to love those who are so rigid in their beliefs that homeschooled kids
A) don't get taught anything
B) have no socialisation
and repeat ad infinitum only what they know - that 'normal' schools are the only way to educate and teach kids to be social.
Cos, goodness knows, we all spend about 8-10 hours each day with over 1000 people, behaving in a socially acceptable manner at all times, never wishing to have time to ourselves and, because we are all Borgs/replicas none of us ever feel anxious/nervous/claustrophobic or stressed at sharing so much of our lives with these strangers we have little in common with.
Don't we...?
*No eyeballs were hurt in the making of this dribble*
You, you and you - up the back, hiding behind the lamp post, chewing on your hair - you're all to come up here and give a public speech about how you all socialise with 1000+ of your peers every single day.
*waiting....waiting...waiting...*
Come on now, surely you've been to school?
Surely you've been taught 'the proper way' to socialise with gazillions of total strangers you have nothing in common with and been taught to enjoy your discomfort even when most of them farted the alphabet in science class after egg sangas at lunch?
And, surely to goodness, you're continuing this tradition now that you're all growed up and socialised proper?
(the socialisation, not farting the alphabet around the water cooler to impress that weird work experience chick from accounting)
*rolls eyes*
No?!
What do you mean you "don't associate with that many people even at work" ????
Is this some kind of madness?
You've been to school, that's where you learn to socialise!
Maybe you didn't learn properly?!
*rolls eyes again*
I have been told that to ensure correct socialisation (which is apparently the cause of a teenager hearing voices and hurting himself) the answer is to send an anxiety-ridden, mentally unwell child back to an over-crowded secondary school.
Because, apparently, belonging to 4 different sporting clubs, a drama club, lapidary club, a social group with a social worker and psychologist on hand, not to forget having frequent excursions...none of these count.
*rolls eyes wildly until they fall out of head*
PlonkGot to love those who are so rigid in their beliefs that homeschooled kids
A) don't get taught anything
B) have no socialisation
and repeat ad infinitum only what they know - that 'normal' schools are the only way to educate and teach kids to be social.
*rolls pre-plonked eyeballs wildly across bench top in attempt to be sarcastic*
*avoids teabags on bench cos those sting eyeballs like a mofo*
Cos, goodness knows, we all spend about 8-10 hours each day with over 1000 people, behaving in a socially acceptable manner at all times, never wishing to have time to ourselves and, because we are all Borgs/replicas none of us ever feel anxious/nervous/claustrophobic or stressed at sharing so much of our lives with these strangers we have little in common with.
Don't we...?
*No eyeballs were hurt in the making of this dribble*
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
I'd rather he was in the chook house than up the tree
I'd rather he was in the chook house than up the treeYes, I really did utter that statement to Hubby last Saturday.
We looked at each other and snorted as we realised how bizarre it would sound to most people.
Well, he did the eye rolling/head shaking thing while I snorted enough for both of us.
Cos our son was in the chook house hiding from the police.
Again.
As you do.
The chooks were a tad put out but I'm sure, given time, they would have learnt to share the space.
Perhaps.
That's if the Aspie child hadn't tried to convince them to stand in front of him and hide him...Trinian and Latte apparently didn't get the memo on team playing and supporting the hand that feeds you so they galloped out of there, leaving him under the eyes of two lovely police people.
Then we did the usual merry-go-round dance of going to the children's via ambulance where more wonderful people bent over backwards to help.
Scary thing is we're starting to recognise the doctors and nurses who are starting to recognise us.
Next thing you know we'll be exchanging Chrissy pressies, inviting each other over for BBQs, calling each other BFF and swapping clothes....
No, wait!
Seriously.
I'd marry the gal who shared my shoe size only for the fact I'd never have to tackle the sales assistant for the Very.Last.Ever ladies size in Omgyourfeetarehumongouslady!
But, I digress...
So, after a gazillion appointments this week with a squillion more to come before TGI Friday kicks in, Aspie offspring is on new meds which appear to be helping (and, judging by his improved lap times, are probably a banned sports enhacing substance but, shhhh, we won't mention it to the swim coach).
Had a MILD moment this afternoon where he simply ran outside.
So I left him to it (after ascertaining he wasn't going to do anything silly).
Then we heard noises so we checked.
He was cleaning the spouting on the shed.
He keeps this up I'll hire him out...
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Calm sailing in aisle 4....Aisle 4, calm sailing...thank you
Well, having vomited my brain-fartage upon you in my previous post today I'll play it light and dreamy.
No, I'm not on drugs or drinking bucketloads of grog (at this present moment in time) but things are....calm.
The Tourette's vocal tics have kicked back in; they're always there it's just he's using them as more of an outlet to let loose some of his steam and to give us fair warning that he's anxious.
Not that he hasn't been told to verbalise these things but when he gets highly anxious commands, simple steps, rules of behaviour, etc, all fly out the window and he runs on gut instinct.
So, he's grunting a lot, his father has bought him a shedload of bubble wrap in rolls which he both sits and maniacally pops with glee and in turns uses it to belt us with.
It's true...bubblewrap really is (almost) as good as therapy with a shrink.
Think of those soft nerf balls and that's what it's like being hit with.
Sure beats having the crap belted out of you with a fist, foot or any piece of furniture lying close at hand.
Anyway!
He's off to his lapidary club, for his 3rd year, where he learns lapidary and all about geology and geography, minerals, gems and how to make an ice cream bucket of opal/garnet/greenstone/semi-precious gemstone bits into something close to any woman's heart.
Oh, and he's started on his Spanish.
He of the silver tongue will be able to woo any girl that crosses his path!
Things are in progress to get something done - don't want to say anything just yet in case I mozz it all, but we are being heard :)
No, I'm not on drugs or drinking bucketloads of grog (at this present moment in time) but things are....calm.
The Tourette's vocal tics have kicked back in; they're always there it's just he's using them as more of an outlet to let loose some of his steam and to give us fair warning that he's anxious.
Not that he hasn't been told to verbalise these things but when he gets highly anxious commands, simple steps, rules of behaviour, etc, all fly out the window and he runs on gut instinct.
So, he's grunting a lot, his father has bought him a shedload of bubble wrap in rolls which he both sits and maniacally pops with glee and in turns uses it to belt us with.
It's true...bubblewrap really is (almost) as good as therapy with a shrink.
Think of those soft nerf balls and that's what it's like being hit with.
Sure beats having the crap belted out of you with a fist, foot or any piece of furniture lying close at hand.
Anyway!
He's off to his lapidary club, for his 3rd year, where he learns lapidary and all about geology and geography, minerals, gems and how to make an ice cream bucket of opal/garnet/greenstone/semi-precious gemstone bits into something close to any woman's heart.
Oh, and he's started on his Spanish.
He of the silver tongue will be able to woo any girl that crosses his path!
Things are in progress to get something done - don't want to say anything just yet in case I mozz it all, but we are being heard :)
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Swearing...and crap...and shitty stuff...see? Swearing. I told you so.
Here I am...again.
No, trying desperately for some jocularity but failing miserably.
So, I mightn't.
Try, that is.
It's worse prattling crap that is no where close to being funny.
So you just get the crap.
2 hospital visits, one on Sunday the other today.
Police were involved, too, with capsicum spray at the ready.
Again.
One thing different...knives were involved today.
Knives that have lived on a magnetic strip screwed to the kitchen wall for years HIGH up above our heads and the trusty Stanley knife in the shed.
Until Aspie teen had his growth spurt and is just taller than me.
Kitchen knives now locked in ugly orange toolbox, with an ugly padlock, tucked away out of sight under the kitchen bench.
No injuries, no skin broken, no blood happened...but only because his father scared him into dropping the first one and wrestled the second one off him.
Numb.
I feel numb...not so much as when someone dies but like everything is at a distance, like the old proverbial of looking at life through the bottom of a bottle.
Or...something.
Cos, apart from the knives, he's hearing voices.
Has been for ages.
But good old Denial is more than a river in Egypt and if you keep denying it those voices might disappear.
Yeah, when pigs fly backwards to the moon on Sundays for fresh fish from China.
Is he psychotic?
Probably, going by the behaviour and paranoid claims we've had thrown at us (along with the claw hammer, shoes, utensils, etc).
Is it schizophrenia?
Is it anxiety?
Is it the full moon turning blue in the 3rd house of Saturn when Taurus passes through the 2nd quarter?
Who freaking knows.
All I know is that those on the Autistic Spectrum do have the potential to start waltzing up close and personal with a mental illness, of any sort, variety and style.
Gotta love mental illness, it's an equal opportunity bullshit artist c**t.
No, trying desperately for some jocularity but failing miserably.
So, I mightn't.
Try, that is.
It's worse prattling crap that is no where close to being funny.
So you just get the crap.
2 hospital visits, one on Sunday the other today.
Police were involved, too, with capsicum spray at the ready.
Again.
One thing different...knives were involved today.
Knives that have lived on a magnetic strip screwed to the kitchen wall for years HIGH up above our heads and the trusty Stanley knife in the shed.
Until Aspie teen had his growth spurt and is just taller than me.
Kitchen knives now locked in ugly orange toolbox, with an ugly padlock, tucked away out of sight under the kitchen bench.
No injuries, no skin broken, no blood happened...but only because his father scared him into dropping the first one and wrestled the second one off him.
Numb.
I feel numb...not so much as when someone dies but like everything is at a distance, like the old proverbial of looking at life through the bottom of a bottle.
Or...something.
Cos, apart from the knives, he's hearing voices.
Has been for ages.
But good old Denial is more than a river in Egypt and if you keep denying it those voices might disappear.
Yeah, when pigs fly backwards to the moon on Sundays for fresh fish from China.
Is he psychotic?
Probably, going by the behaviour and paranoid claims we've had thrown at us (along with the claw hammer, shoes, utensils, etc).
Is it schizophrenia?
Is it anxiety?
Is it the full moon turning blue in the 3rd house of Saturn when Taurus passes through the 2nd quarter?
Who freaking knows.
All I know is that those on the Autistic Spectrum do have the potential to start waltzing up close and personal with a mental illness, of any sort, variety and style.
Gotta love mental illness, it's an equal opportunity bullshit artist c**t.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
We got AN ANSWER!!!!! No, it is not 42...although that is my age right now...Spooky, Mulder!
But seriously, WOOT!
Saw a fabulous neurologist for Aspie teen yesterday.
We have An Answer!
A label for these monstrous outbursts!
Episodic Dyscontrol Syndrome aka Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
Go on, go gurgle it.
*waits*
No, I did not do crack cocaine or drink alcohol or swing from chandeliers when pregnant; I had high blood pressure, worked full-time until the placenta previa was discovered (the placenta was covering my cervix, no emergency exit that way), enough fluid retention to call off the drought and was so bored on strict bedrest that I even read the fine print on those dinky Franklin Mint offers.
And at 16 weeks I lost Aspie teen's twin.
Didn't know there were twins until after the fact, lost him/her on THE weekend all freakin' radiologists were out on strike (cos a potential miscarriage is not considered an emergency. huh) so we had to wait til Monday to discover the Aspie fetus was waving his bungee cord about still, that there was an empty sac beside him and there was another egg propped at the end of my fallopian tube waiting to get rubbed up the right way by the Spouse's swimmers.
The GP was very insistent "Please, don't have sex for awhile!"
I've followed his instructions to the letter ever since....
Anywho, the kidlet was born via caesarian, was whipped off to the neo-natal unit, yada, yada, yada, the rest is history.
So, yesterday we were told that whenever a twin dies in utero there is always some form of brain damage to the surviving twin, even if it is unable to be detected by an MRI.
Which is the most likely cause of his frontal lobe not working properly (ADHD, behaviour control, Tourette's, Autism, etc).
And the push off the trampoline 2 years ago may be the straw that broke the camels back with yet another insult to his frontal lobe, triggering the Episodic Dyscontrol.
So, we wait for the appointment for the MRI and further genetic testing (as it's been almost 10 years since our last lot of genetic tests and massive progress has been made since then).
Not that there actually is anything we can do; we can't stop it or change Aspie teen or hang him upside down from the chandelier and whistle Dixie to see if he turns into a frog.
We basically stick to the medication he's on.
And ride out the malestrom whenever it hits.
But now we know!
Saw a fabulous neurologist for Aspie teen yesterday.
We have An Answer!
A label for these monstrous outbursts!
Episodic Dyscontrol Syndrome aka Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
Go on, go gurgle it.
*waits*
No, I did not do crack cocaine or drink alcohol or swing from chandeliers when pregnant; I had high blood pressure, worked full-time until the placenta previa was discovered (the placenta was covering my cervix, no emergency exit that way), enough fluid retention to call off the drought and was so bored on strict bedrest that I even read the fine print on those dinky Franklin Mint offers.
And at 16 weeks I lost Aspie teen's twin.
Didn't know there were twins until after the fact, lost him/her on THE weekend all freakin' radiologists were out on strike (cos a potential miscarriage is not considered an emergency. huh) so we had to wait til Monday to discover the Aspie fetus was waving his bungee cord about still, that there was an empty sac beside him and there was another egg propped at the end of my fallopian tube waiting to get rubbed up the right way by the Spouse's swimmers.
The GP was very insistent "Please, don't have sex for awhile!"
I've followed his instructions to the letter ever since....
Anywho, the kidlet was born via caesarian, was whipped off to the neo-natal unit, yada, yada, yada, the rest is history.
So, yesterday we were told that whenever a twin dies in utero there is always some form of brain damage to the surviving twin, even if it is unable to be detected by an MRI.
Which is the most likely cause of his frontal lobe not working properly (ADHD, behaviour control, Tourette's, Autism, etc).
And the push off the trampoline 2 years ago may be the straw that broke the camels back with yet another insult to his frontal lobe, triggering the Episodic Dyscontrol.
So, we wait for the appointment for the MRI and further genetic testing (as it's been almost 10 years since our last lot of genetic tests and massive progress has been made since then).
Not that there actually is anything we can do; we can't stop it or change Aspie teen or hang him upside down from the chandelier and whistle Dixie to see if he turns into a frog.
We basically stick to the medication he's on.
And ride out the malestrom whenever it hits.
But now we know!
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Black Balloon is my life...almost
Finally watched The Black Balloon last night.
Yeah, yeah, call me slow but the universe conspired against me seeing this movie until now.
Aspie teen insisted on watching it and had a few moments throughout, identifying with a number of behaviours and events.
The scene where Thomas goes nuts on his 16th birthday and things get broken?
A mere blink of an eyelid in our house; that scene goes on and on and on and on here, sometimes everyday, in one form or another.
The human services at the front door due to sticky nose neighbours?
Yep, had 'em here due to a new neighbour (who didn't want to meet anyone in the street) claiming we were tormenting Aspie toddler when we were trying to toilet train him.
Toilet training was a nightmare and deserves a whole post on its own.
No, seriously, it does.
And you will thank me for it.
Maybe.
The scene where the mainstream school kids are picking on Charlie?
Eldest daughter's high school was near Aspie boy's autistic school and a number of her (male) classmates found it necessary to stand near the fence at recess and inform the younger children of their correct titles their parents had forgotten to tell them.
Titles like retard, dipshit, spastic, fucktard, and others.
Eldest daughter tried defending the younger kids but was laughed at, which made her mad.
Teachers did nothing.
So she told her mummy.
Her mummy and Aspie boy met the ring leader on his way home from school one day and, seeing as he'd battled getting his message across large playing areas and a fence, he was politely offered the chance to inform Aspie boy to his face what his correct title was.
Sadly, the ring leader felt the need to start training for the 1 km dash and was last seen galloping down the street with a 4 year old in hot pursuit.
About a week later someone who looked like the former ring leader apologised to eldest daughter and Aspie boy.
I guess it took him a week to grow a pair of balls.
I digress.
The Black Balloon is my life...almost.
We will have Aspie teen living with us forever, we will have to troubleshoot a lot of life for him, we will have to continually explain things and correct his misconceptions.
But, unlike the movie ending, we will not be sharing a bath tub with him.....
Cos the little bugger WILL pee on our leg!
Yeah, yeah, call me slow but the universe conspired against me seeing this movie until now.
Aspie teen insisted on watching it and had a few moments throughout, identifying with a number of behaviours and events.
The scene where Thomas goes nuts on his 16th birthday and things get broken?
A mere blink of an eyelid in our house; that scene goes on and on and on and on here, sometimes everyday, in one form or another.
The human services at the front door due to sticky nose neighbours?
Yep, had 'em here due to a new neighbour (who didn't want to meet anyone in the street) claiming we were tormenting Aspie toddler when we were trying to toilet train him.
Toilet training was a nightmare and deserves a whole post on its own.
No, seriously, it does.
And you will thank me for it.
Maybe.
The scene where the mainstream school kids are picking on Charlie?
Eldest daughter's high school was near Aspie boy's autistic school and a number of her (male) classmates found it necessary to stand near the fence at recess and inform the younger children of their correct titles their parents had forgotten to tell them.
Titles like retard, dipshit, spastic, fucktard, and others.
Eldest daughter tried defending the younger kids but was laughed at, which made her mad.
Teachers did nothing.
So she told her mummy.
Her mummy and Aspie boy met the ring leader on his way home from school one day and, seeing as he'd battled getting his message across large playing areas and a fence, he was politely offered the chance to inform Aspie boy to his face what his correct title was.
Sadly, the ring leader felt the need to start training for the 1 km dash and was last seen galloping down the street with a 4 year old in hot pursuit.
About a week later someone who looked like the former ring leader apologised to eldest daughter and Aspie boy.
I guess it took him a week to grow a pair of balls.
I digress.
The Black Balloon is my life...almost.
We will have Aspie teen living with us forever, we will have to troubleshoot a lot of life for him, we will have to continually explain things and correct his misconceptions.
But, unlike the movie ending, we will not be sharing a bath tub with him.....
Cos the little bugger WILL pee on our leg!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Groundhog Day/time loop...shoving shyte uphill like Sisyphus
Sorry, Sisyphus only shoved a great thunderingly huge rock, not shyte.
Bet he wished he shoved shyte, instead.
I digress...
I get to experience a time loop each.and.every.single.fecking.day.
Think of it as Groundhog Day, repeating the same shyte over and over and over and over ad infinitum.
Until you finally correct your mistake (Groundhog Day film) and then time advances forward in a normal fashion once more.
Or, if you're lucky enough to be me, it doesn't.
You're stuck with the same thing happening over and over and over and over again ad infinitum.
Or until I drop dead.
That's if I'm allowed to die.
Could turn out to be one of those computer games where the damn characters get a bazillion lives to be smooshed, mauled, crashed and splattered any which way you can imagine.
So, do I try to change things to prevent the repetition? (I'm asked by well-meaning-but-brain-dead-people who don't know the difference between your/you're and smell of cod liver oil).
Why, golly gosh, that had never crossed my mind at all.*rolls eyes*
Yes, sarcasm, it's often wasted on these people as they don't recognise it unless they're slapped in the face with a wet fish and even then some are iffy.
Have I tried asking the Aspie teen what causes his fury? (Again, the imagaination of these twits knows many boundaries). *more wild eye rolling*
Have we tried medication/diet/exercise/running away to a circus?
No, although we pursued many meals of wild thistles sprinkled with imported free range slugs raised solely on organic strawberries and gooseberries whilst washing it down with jellied eels, sauteed worms then licking the back of a cane toad for recreational purposes.
And that was just for my father.
So, the time loop/Groundhog Day goes on....every day of 2011 so far.
I'm determined to find something decent in this year (typed through gritted teeth) even if I have to choke the living shyte out of this fecking 12 months and kick it to the kerb when it's replacement shows up in 361 days.
Bet he wished he shoved shyte, instead.
I digress...
I get to experience a time loop each.and.every.single.fecking.day.
Think of it as Groundhog Day, repeating the same shyte over and over and over and over ad infinitum.
Until you finally correct your mistake (Groundhog Day film) and then time advances forward in a normal fashion once more.
Or, if you're lucky enough to be me, it doesn't.
You're stuck with the same thing happening over and over and over and over again ad infinitum.
Or until I drop dead.
That's if I'm allowed to die.
Could turn out to be one of those computer games where the damn characters get a bazillion lives to be smooshed, mauled, crashed and splattered any which way you can imagine.
So, do I try to change things to prevent the repetition? (I'm asked by well-meaning-but-brain-dead-people who don't know the difference between your/you're and smell of cod liver oil).
Why, golly gosh, that had never crossed my mind at all.*rolls eyes*
Yes, sarcasm, it's often wasted on these people as they don't recognise it unless they're slapped in the face with a wet fish and even then some are iffy.
Have I tried asking the Aspie teen what causes his fury? (Again, the imagaination of these twits knows many boundaries). *more wild eye rolling*
Have we tried medication/diet/exercise/running away to a circus?
No, although we pursued many meals of wild thistles sprinkled with imported free range slugs raised solely on organic strawberries and gooseberries whilst washing it down with jellied eels, sauteed worms then licking the back of a cane toad for recreational purposes.
And that was just for my father.
So, the time loop/Groundhog Day goes on....every day of 2011 so far.
I'm determined to find something decent in this year (typed through gritted teeth) even if I have to choke the living shyte out of this fecking 12 months and kick it to the kerb when it's replacement shows up in 361 days.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Back again
Dad is back home and Aspie teen is more settled albeit more clingy.
Thank goodness we've come a long way since he was in mainstream school with his integration aide; we are able to discuss the future of his grandfather's health with him plus he's able to spend extra bonus time with Dad being at home.
Some things about nursing Dad at home are perfect life lessons Aspie teen could read about but have little understanding until it's unfolding right under his very nose. Hopefully these are helping cement the foundations for him to follow in how to care for the elderly/infirm in his future.
He's so happy with his Silkie hens, they are another learning curve for him and he's spreading his wings a little in his new role of responsibility. They've imprinted with him as their parent and answer to their names when he calls them. The fluffy little mop tops are so sweet and cute; they have cheeky little personalities which make them appear as silly haughty madames strutting about in the Victorian era in their finery.
They are both a great distraction and a grounding mechanism to keep him focussed in this sad time.
We have no idea how long Dad has but each day is a bonus so we have to strive for positive thinking and keeping our chins up which is difficult for a teen at times.
The 2 cases of young teens being sprayed with capsicum spray has certainly grabbed his attention; his parents warning him was one thing but the police actually using it on kids his own age has given him a bit of a wake up call.
He's off for an EEG this week and still banned from bicycle riding due to his slow reaction times. He missed his first cricket match of the season as we were tied up at the hospital (almost but not quite literally in that sense) but he took the disappointment ok, only a few mild Tourette's grunts and tics.
We'll be reviweing Aspie teen returning to Uni study soon, too.
He has asked many times and loves the uni subjects, we'll just take it slowly to see what subjects are on offer (in his preferred field of study) and what really catches his interest (even those outside of his subject area).
Maybe a better time for him to start again, we'll see.
Thank goodness we've come a long way since he was in mainstream school with his integration aide; we are able to discuss the future of his grandfather's health with him plus he's able to spend extra bonus time with Dad being at home.
Some things about nursing Dad at home are perfect life lessons Aspie teen could read about but have little understanding until it's unfolding right under his very nose. Hopefully these are helping cement the foundations for him to follow in how to care for the elderly/infirm in his future.
He's so happy with his Silkie hens, they are another learning curve for him and he's spreading his wings a little in his new role of responsibility. They've imprinted with him as their parent and answer to their names when he calls them. The fluffy little mop tops are so sweet and cute; they have cheeky little personalities which make them appear as silly haughty madames strutting about in the Victorian era in their finery.
They are both a great distraction and a grounding mechanism to keep him focussed in this sad time.
We have no idea how long Dad has but each day is a bonus so we have to strive for positive thinking and keeping our chins up which is difficult for a teen at times.
The 2 cases of young teens being sprayed with capsicum spray has certainly grabbed his attention; his parents warning him was one thing but the police actually using it on kids his own age has given him a bit of a wake up call.
He's off for an EEG this week and still banned from bicycle riding due to his slow reaction times. He missed his first cricket match of the season as we were tied up at the hospital (almost but not quite literally in that sense) but he took the disappointment ok, only a few mild Tourette's grunts and tics.
We'll be reviweing Aspie teen returning to Uni study soon, too.
He has asked many times and loves the uni subjects, we'll just take it slowly to see what subjects are on offer (in his preferred field of study) and what really catches his interest (even those outside of his subject area).
Maybe a better time for him to start again, we'll see.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Stress/no stress
Today rocked.
It truly did.
My Aspie had an appointment with his beloved paediatrician who not only gives him great support and reassurance but today he saw Aspie teen's new anxiety manifestations in constantly clicking his fingers.
I know it's anxiety-driven but I can't figure out if it should be labelled a Tourette's tic or a stim...or even an OCD behaviour as he's sort of able to stop (sometimes) but he's got this overwhelming urge to keep going.
Anyways, the paed saw it and saw that verbal reassurance, coupled with hugs, back rubs and cuddles didn't cut the mustard, either.
It's interesting to note that while Aspie teen denied that he felt any anxiety or worry at the increasing noise of new patients in the waiting room his clicking increased when we walked out there.
I don't know if he's actually able to identify feelings of anxiety or stress as he's lived with them as a constant for so long it's like background noise.
We talked, oh so briefly as he was getting prickly, about stress on the way home and I tried to explain that many people don't realise they're stressed out or anxious until these behaviours appear.
At least I've sown the seed for him to think about and we might be able to discuss it further another day, soon.
It truly did.
My Aspie had an appointment with his beloved paediatrician who not only gives him great support and reassurance but today he saw Aspie teen's new anxiety manifestations in constantly clicking his fingers.
I know it's anxiety-driven but I can't figure out if it should be labelled a Tourette's tic or a stim...or even an OCD behaviour as he's sort of able to stop (sometimes) but he's got this overwhelming urge to keep going.
Anyways, the paed saw it and saw that verbal reassurance, coupled with hugs, back rubs and cuddles didn't cut the mustard, either.
It's interesting to note that while Aspie teen denied that he felt any anxiety or worry at the increasing noise of new patients in the waiting room his clicking increased when we walked out there.
I don't know if he's actually able to identify feelings of anxiety or stress as he's lived with them as a constant for so long it's like background noise.
We talked, oh so briefly as he was getting prickly, about stress on the way home and I tried to explain that many people don't realise they're stressed out or anxious until these behaviours appear.
At least I've sown the seed for him to think about and we might be able to discuss it further another day, soon.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Farewells
This week my boy has had a rough time; the anxiety has been on top pitch with the excitment of meeting our friends from NSW, attending a presentation at the State Library and then the death of my cousin.
She was a lovely person who knew, intimately, as both a professional and as a mother the Autistic Spectrum and all the curve balls it could throw at a person.
She was a lovely person who knew, intimately, as both a professional and as a mother the Autistic Spectrum and all the curve balls it could throw at a person.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Social groups 2
My Aspie teen is off to his first social meeting soon, full of excitement and hope.
We've worded him up early, giving him time to adjust his thinking and mentally plan his movements around this new event on his calendar.
I'm prepared for an outburst as the date draws closer, perhaps some trepidation at meeting others or even just the fact teen girls will be included (we're still, just, at the "ewww, girl germs" stage).
There'll be a few flutters from his mother but his dad plans on plugging into his iPod while the teens socialise (his father's way of coping with new situations) so I'll be parked at home attempting to watch some murder mystery whodunit on the edge of my seat from waiting to see how it all went.
We've worded him up early, giving him time to adjust his thinking and mentally plan his movements around this new event on his calendar.
I'm prepared for an outburst as the date draws closer, perhaps some trepidation at meeting others or even just the fact teen girls will be included (we're still, just, at the "ewww, girl germs" stage).
There'll be a few flutters from his mother but his dad plans on plugging into his iPod while the teens socialise (his father's way of coping with new situations) so I'll be parked at home attempting to watch some murder mystery whodunit on the edge of my seat from waiting to see how it all went.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Changes = anxiety
We have friends coming to stay, from interstate, so it's a big thing.
Woohoo, very exciting stuffs!
The general cleaning and tidying is getting an extra going over, something which has sparked the anxieties in our son.
Any little change will crank up those anxieties in all people on the Spectrum.
Woohoo, very exciting stuffs!
The general cleaning and tidying is getting an extra going over, something which has sparked the anxieties in our son.
Any little change will crank up those anxieties in all people on the Spectrum.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Tics
The Tourette's tics change from week to week; sometimes he might be growling and barking like a small yappy dog - how often people have heard but not seen him and asked "Who's dog is that?!" - while other times he has to make the same mono-type noise over and over until one of us gently prods him with a verbal cue to put a sock in it.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Too cheerful, too maudlin, too too much!
Someone, an acquaintance who barely knew me, once accused me of being overly cheerful and optimistic in light of my sons demands and disabilities.
Wow.
I'd gone from feeling that my daily routine bored everyone to tears, that some might feel that I was moaning too much and now I was 'too cheerful'.
Wow.
I'd gone from feeling that my daily routine bored everyone to tears, that some might feel that I was moaning too much and now I was 'too cheerful'.
Social groups
I've called to arrange our membership of the Asperger's social group.
Woot!
This is the first Spectrum-specific social group my son will have attended since he was in prep.
He's joined many community groups like lawn bowls, dancing, etc, but that was more a concerted effort to get him to observe and copy socially acceptable behaviour from neurotypical people both young and old.
Woot!
This is the first Spectrum-specific social group my son will have attended since he was in prep.
He's joined many community groups like lawn bowls, dancing, etc, but that was more a concerted effort to get him to observe and copy socially acceptable behaviour from neurotypical people both young and old.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Mantra
There is no magic cure.
There is no one answer.
Things will not magically resolve themselves in the blink of an eye.
No matter how determined you are children move at their own pace.
No matter how determined your children are Autism lets them move at its own pace.
The Spectrum short circuits our kids' wiring, creating the need for us to repeatedly repeat repeatedly what we want them to learn.
One lesson will not a neurotypical child make nor will a child grasp a lesson within your determined time frame.
Parents of those on the Spectrum can be certain of only 3 things in life = death, taxes and the long wait for Autism to let our kids pass the next goal.
There is no one answer.
Things will not magically resolve themselves in the blink of an eye.
No matter how determined you are children move at their own pace.
No matter how determined your children are Autism lets them move at its own pace.
The Spectrum short circuits our kids' wiring, creating the need for us to repeatedly repeat repeatedly what we want them to learn.
One lesson will not a neurotypical child make nor will a child grasp a lesson within your determined time frame.
Parents of those on the Spectrum can be certain of only 3 things in life = death, taxes and the long wait for Autism to let our kids pass the next goal.
Natural stuffs
The homeopath was another pathway we tried.
Did I mention we'd have hung from our ankles at the full moon and spun in a clockwise direction if we thought it would help our son?
For awhile there were small gains, slowly millimetre by millimetre there were improvements.
In hindsight I'd love to see how much our son could have improved without the added stresses and anxiety from everything around him.
Did I mention we'd have hung from our ankles at the full moon and spun in a clockwise direction if we thought it would help our son?
For awhile there were small gains, slowly millimetre by millimetre there were improvements.
In hindsight I'd love to see how much our son could have improved without the added stresses and anxiety from everything around him.
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