autism · cancer · Down syndrome · parenting · special needs parenting

Always Waiting For the Other Shoe To Drop

We are on a bit of a roll over here.

We have a steady respite person. This week I got an application for a self-determination employee, someone who will take Ben out and work on community living skills with him, and Ben’s caseworker has things lined up for ABA therapy to start soon.

Not only that, but his health seems to be fairly stable. we have the steady stream of appointments lined up to maintain stasis, but his sinuses are relatively clear this year, and after several months of a MRSA infection, that is clear too. We’re barreling toward 3 years since his last hospitalization, a personal best.

His new psychiatrist is using a combination of medications and supplements which seems to be effective, meaning no violent outbursts in the last two weeks (a big deal here). By every measure, we are making progress, loose ends that I have pursued for years are coming together. We are moving past many of the dead ends and setbacks we have slammed into through again and again.

Only an itty bitty piece of me indulges in celebration. A morsel that is quarantined away, so as not to grow or infect any other part of me. Carefully encapsulated, observed and disciplined, so as not to risk any loss of control. I’m reluctant to even mention any measure of success.

Instead, I steep myself in caution. I mentally list all the things that might go awry, cataloging them repeatedly in chronological, alphabetical, and decreasing and increasing orders of severity. With an epilogue full of asterisks in case of some unforeseen and unforeseeable event.

Because we live in the land of the unforeseeable.

In complex parenting, a hospital discharge can mean a return with a worse diagnosis later.

In complex parenting, medications come with reactions and side effects that strike at any moment.

In complex parenting, a routine appointment too often turns dreadful.

In complex parenting, we brace for the worst-case scenario, not out of fear, but out of habit.

In complex parenting, we don’t rest on success or achievement, because there’s always more to accomplish. Because the bottom can fall out at any time.

We live precariously balanced. We unravel knots while tying up others. We tiptoe around, not on eggshells but on shards of blown glass, knowing that any misstep leads not only to breakage but to harm. We guard our hearts against joy and celebration, no matter how hard-earned, because we’re braced for a crash.

It’s a superstitious, ritualistic juju dance of not jinxing ourselves and warding off the bad by keeping our fingers crossed and a loose grip on the good.

Brené Brown called it Foreboding Joy, and I reaffirm my departure from her on this. If you get excited when I share my news, I won’t join you. When you tell me you’re praying for it, I won’t bother telling you I don’t exactly trust God to keep us from the fire, rescue us from the fire, or keep the fire from consuming us anymore because experience hasn’t borne that out.

I’m keeping my armor fastened, with a crest of foreboding joy on my breast, and charging forward as always. I don’t know if it’s smart, necessary, or maybe even slowing me down, but without it, I stand naked and terrified.

 

advocacy · autism · Down syndrome · special needs parenting · Uncategorized

At The Risk of Sounding Like a Jerk. . .

Can I confess some mixed feelings?

A little backstory: Alex brought home a flyer for the Night to Shine”, an event created by the Tim Tebow foundation to provide a formal dance night for people with disabilities.

It’s probably no surprise if you have read my previous posts to find out that I’m prone to over thinking, and this is a prime example of that. But pardon me for working it out here with you, especially if I end up with pie on my face.

Of course, Alex wants to go to the Night To Shine. An evening out with his friends to get dressed up and dance is total fun for him.

I don’t want to not let him go. I mean, what parent wants to deny a child a fun time. And if you know anything about Alex, when he’s having fun it’s beautiful and contagious.

Yet, I’m struggling to get past the yucky feel of the thing.

By yucky I mean it feels like a Cinderella story where for one night everyone has fun playing pretend, and then when the clock strikes midnight the shoe falls off, the coach turns back into a pumpkin and everything goes back to how it was in the first place.

When the boys were younger we signed them up for a football event called Victory Day, where the participants took the field with a local high school football team and were handed the ball while the high school players gave academy award winning performances pretending to tackle the disabled person who eventually succeeds in running the touchdown. The whole thing was contrived, in a good natured way, but what rubbed me wrong and aged badly, was Ben’s touchdown run.

Ben doesn’t follow anybody’s playbook but his own, and rather than running a touchdown, Ben fancied himself a defensive tackle. What Ben wanted was to take down the ball carrier. Ben’s chance to play football with the bug guys became a comedy of errors, because Ben wasn’t about to run the ball, and instead, did his level best to get in a few good tackles. They ended up carrying Ben over the goal line in order to get him off the field with less than a full hour of time off the play clock. Long story short, the day left an aftertaste, one that leaves me wondering what the volunteer time, money and effort is really about.

I can’t fault the players for making every attempt to follow through on what they were supposed to do, but what, in retrospect, seems off is that the people the day was supposed to be for had no voice in how their one shot on the field went. They were given a ball and expected to do what was planned for them, rather than being offered a say in what to do.

Which leads me to wonder if when these things are planned, are there people with disabilities on the committees? On the foundation staff or board? Or is this something that typical functioning people are doing for people with disabilities?

Let’s walk this back. If you’re a woman, do you want all men creating and enacting their vision of what you want? If you’re an introvert do you want a committee of extroverts deciding what introverts want. It can go on and on with various people groups, but suffice it to say, every people group deserves representation when plans are made, rather than having plans made for them, and people with disabilities deserve that no less than any other group.

Looking into the Tim Tebow Foundation I am not easily able to ascertain if any board or staff members have disabilities, but I’m fixing to find out, as well as checking the local planning groups. Representation matters. Self-determination matters. It’s fine to serve, but even better to include and involve, while listening.

For now, I think Alex will attend, but not without reservations on my part. I’ve emailed the foundation and am eagerly awaiting a response on how involved people with disabilities are at the planning level. Stay tuned.

autism · Down syndrome · special needs parenting

How Summer Changes When You Have Kids With High Needs

Summer break isn’t my favorite.

I used to love it. We had a camper and several times each summer our family would visit different parks around the state, enjoying nature and time together. It was idyllic, and this, or something similar is what summer means to many families.

If I had to choose just one word for what has changed, that word would be vigilance.

Our son, Ben, has high needs. Yes, he has Down syndrome, but so does Alex, there’s a difference. Add in autism, with some hefty medical and psychiatric diagnoses, and time with him requires constant vigilance. Like bringing super busy and fearless two-year-old twins to the Grand Canyon overlook without a rail kind of vigilance. And that is just outside at our home, when we go anywhere else our efforts are multiplied.

This is why:

  1. Our child doesn’t have discernment. He occupies a twelve-year-old body, but his mind is much like that of a toddler. Dangers like busy roads, campfires and water mean nothing to him, and we have no way to explain it to him.
  2. He doesn’t learn from experience. Family members have been flummoxed to see him run into the water until it’s over his head, then stand there until someone rescues him. After coming out coughing and hacking, he will turn around and do it again. And again. And again. He will even laugh while doing it because he gets attention for it. He has yet to grow out of it, and I have my doubts that he will. Any time spent near anything dangerous is similar.
  3. He doesn’t respond to punishment of any sort. Neither in school nor at home. We have yet to find a way to create a consequence for his actions which discourages him from doing the same in the future, and that is with social workers and psychologists using their best tools. (No, this isn’t an invitation for you to share your idea with us).
  4. He melts down. Too much stimulation, too many “no’s” or transitions, or just any change of setting are triggers for meltdowns. Anyone with a toddler knows what it looks like, flopping on the floor, screaming, kicking, hitting, biting and more, with murderous rage. But this is a twelve-year-old. He weighs about 100 pounds now, and he isn’t getting any smaller.
  5. He has discovered that taking his clothes off gets a reaction, and he loves reactions. Any time spent in public is taking the risk of public nudity.
  6. It’s a break from the structure and routine that keeps him together. School is a setting with professionals who work with him on these and many other things. He craves the predictability, and reproducing it at home doesn’t and won’t work, and goes against the fluidity that makes summer fun for the other kids.

We aren’t alone either. You may not see them, chances are they are holed up at home being selective about going out, but there are many families like ours, struggling just to visit the lake for an hour, or stop at the ice cream store for a cone on a hot evening. We know we need to get our kids into the community, but we do it judiciously, because so often it ends in frustrated exhaustion and tears. We live this year-round, but during the school year, our children have the structure and stability of professionals during the day, and we meet them refreshed and ready in the evening. Those with school during the summer have less of it, and the free time feels chaotic to them, and their families both.

Why do I bother with telling you this?

Because not very many people will. We left church, one with a special needs ministry because our son’s behavior and medical needs were too much for the volunteers. We no longer attend the special needs family camp we tried, because his needs were too much for the volunteers. We are the outsiders, the resources there are don’t fit for us, and we struggle alone. And I think it needs to be said.

 

autism · Down syndrome

What is Autism and Why Does It Matter to You?

Today is World Autism Day. There are specific activities involved, such as wearing blue, but beyond that, why should you, the average internet surfer, give two hoots about autism awareness and acceptance? Why would it matter to you?

The diagnostic criteria for Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) specify that to be diagnosed a person has to have social deficits. Added to this are the criteria regarding sensory processing and rigidity of behavior.

In plain English, what this means that approximately 1 in 68 people have significant social deficits and sensory processing difficulties to be considered Autistic. The disorder occurs on a spectrum from mild to moderate to severe.

Because it’s a spectrum of presentations, you might see one person with Autism who is highly intelligent with more social challenges and rigid behavior and another who doesn’t speak at all, has limited to no social skills and constant sensory avoiding or stimulating activities (or a combination of avoiding and stimulating), and both of them are considered Autistic.

No two people with Autism are alike. When you know a person who is on the Autism Spectrum, you might think you have a pretty good idea of what Autism is, but really, you only understand that person. The next person you meet with Autism might have very some different personality traits, behaviors and social skills.

My son, Ben lines up his cars all the time, lining items up is a common Autistic behavior.

This is where awareness and acceptance come into play:

  • If someone says they have Autism, believe them. Just because they aren’t like someone else you know with Autism doesn’t mean that they don’t actually have it. To get an Autism diagnosis, a person goes through clearly defined standardized testing conducted by a qualified clinician, and chances are that you are not qualified to decide if the assessment was correct.
  • Be aware, when you’re in public that you might encounter an Autistic person. If someone you meet seems to have unusual social conduct, give them the benefit of the doubt and accept them as is.
  • Autism meltdowns are very real and very challenging. Don’t judge the person melting down or the people with them, just give them space and a smile.
  • Keep advice to yourself. Sure, your cousin’s neighbor has Autism and a gluten free diet helped them and your coworker calms his Autistic son with essential oils, but those are two different people, and what works for them isn’t a magic fix for all things Autism related. Most people with Autism and their families have accrued great resources and have tried many things, so chances are good that your suggestion isn’t new to them.
  • They might be using medications, natural remedies, or therapies to manage their Autism, and whatever they’re doing is between them and the professionals they trust to give them direction, it’s not for you to judge their approach.
  • Just like anyone, Autistic people (and their families) want to be accepted. If you want to be helpful, read up on Autism and be a safe and accepting person. It’s really the best way to help. The Autism Society is a great place to start if you want more information.
  • As a parent of a child with Autism, I have been both chastised and blessed by strangers in public, but mostly just ignored. Honestly, being ignored is probably the easiest for us, so don’t feel like you have to help someone who is struggling in public in order to be an accepting ally.

What is really helpful, is knowing that my son is accepted, just as he is. And anyone can do that.

advocacy · parenting · special needs parenting

7 Big Truths About Special Needs Parents

Every week or so my messenger app dings with a message from someone reaching out. Often it’s a question; someone looking for input or encouragement, asking advice or giving any of the above. Sometimes it’s a local friend, often strangers find me via Google or an article and seek me out.

No matter who it is or what the reasoning, I welcome it.

I’ve noticed a few things as well. Though I’m reluctant to generalize, there are some threads common to many of these families.

  1. We’re dedicated. Whether it’s helping a child with ADHD or dyslexia succeed in a general classroom, finding a niche for a child with Asperger’s (yes, I know it’s technically not called that anymore) who is gifted, making plans for a child with a complex medical diagnosis or finding the right fit for someone with a developmental disability; families are bound and determined to do right by their kids.
  2. The resources aren’t readily available. This many years after IDEA and ABLE, it’s still hard to find and create resources for people who need any services or aids outside the norm.
  3. We’re tired. We struggle to find child care or respite, we spend untold hours driving to and attending appointments and meetings, we often are years or even decades behind on sleep, and we’re often trying to brainstorm, troubleshoot and solve behaviors.
  4. We’re broke. Between copays, deductibles, and gas, our money flies out of the bank account with extraordinary speed, and it’s not from being irresponsible. In fact we often feel guilty for small indulgences that many people take for granted because we know that the $2 we dropped on coffee is $2 less we can pay on bills.
  5. Despite all that we’re usually grateful. We realize that the services we can access for our kids are unprecidented, and though we struggle to make it all work, we do so gladly!
  6. We’re an unparalleled network. We find each other, we support each other, we advocate together and encourage each other. It’s a worldwide commune where people gladly share anything they have, eager to help one another out.
  7. We have a vision. It starts with our desire to make the world a better place for our children, and a recognition that our children make the world a better place. And we’ll go to the end of the world to bring it to fruition.

What would you add?

advocacy · parenting · special needs parenting

Why Do I Post So Many Pictures of My Kids?

Many bloggers take great care to avoid showing their children's faces, to keep a modicum of privacy for their families. They make up blog names for their kids and keep the family's identity anonymous. I get that, the Internet is far from safe, people steal photos of children and use them for rotten purposes. It seems that it's foolish to churn out photo after photo of my precious brood.

But I do.

It's because I want you to see them, to really see my kids.

I want you to get used to their features; those almond shaped eyes and small mid face that are the hallmarks of Down syndrome.

I want you to see their humanity, their preciousness, and to recognize them as the multifaceted, complex people that they are.

Alex was stared at yesterday. Blatantly, unavoidably stared at for several minutes yesterday. I'm sure it's because he wears his diagnosis on his sweet face. Anyone who might not be familiar or comfortable with Down syndrome will see his differences and not be able to stop examining him in order to perhaps put a finger on just what is different about him.

I want a world where every single person can look at someone with a disability and see the human being, not the difference.

By my sharing of photographs and our daily ups and downs, I hope to give insight that will facilitate that. I want people to understand that my children are as adorable and adored as any other child, and also to realize that there are differences and challenges; both for them and for us as parents and caregivers.

This is all my bodacious effort to make the world a place where they are accepted.

How can I do that if you never see their faces?

I know that some will disagree, and I'm okay with that. In fact I'll gladly listen to any dissenting voice. I've never claimed to have all the answers. I'm just doing everything in my power to make the world a safe, accepting, and welcoming place for my children.

Something many parents get to take for granted.

advocacy · parenting · politics · special needs parenting

Why Is Medicaid Such A Big Deal for People With Disabilities?

When people think of Medicaid, they think medical insurance.  Medicaid is insurance, which is important, to be sure, but it is also is so much more.

My husband works for the state, he has a good healthcare policy, so while medical expenses do add up, we have a safety net to ensure that we won’t have to succumb to the financial strain of medical bills.  Even so, I fought a huge battle to get Ben onto the Children’s Waiver program so that he could get Medicaid benefits even though our income (my husband is in law enforcement, and I make a little money here and there with writing, so we aren’t exactly rolling in it) is above the threshold for our disabled children to receive Medicaid.  Here is a list of things that Medicaid provides that we couldn’t provide in another fashion or which has been burdensome to provide.

  • Respite.  We have had friends occasionally volunteer to care for Ben, and my mom helps out as much as she can, but that said, in order to have regular breaks from caregiving, we would need to pay an adult caregiver at least $15/hour (that’s on the stingy end of the spectrum), if not more to care for Ben.  Why?  Because he’s catheterized for urine, has bowel flushes, gets meds 3x/day, and has violent outbursts that require cautious intervention.  Respite means that we can have a professional caregiver who is equipped to do those things and we can give much needed attention to our other children, and just get time to collect ourselves so that we can continue to give high level care.
  • Community Living Supports.  I have written about taking Ben out in public, it’s a crapshoot at best.  It is guaranteed that he will have minor issues, such as running off or taking things off store shelves, but there are times, about 50/50 that things are trickier and the interventions for such behaviors result in a major meltdown.  Community Living Supports will provide a trained person to help Ben learn to cope with going out and all that it entails, giving him a fuller life where he will be less isolated, especially if his behavior improves and we can take him on family outings.
  • Autism benefits.  ABA therapy, which will also help minimize Ben’s negative behaviors and maximize positives.
  • Medical copay/deductible coverage.  As I have said, we have good medical insurance, but every single year Ben maxes out his copays, deductibles, and out of network costs.  It’s thousands of dollars.  Anyone who has a typical family knows what it’s like to have a major surgery, hospitalization, or ER bill suck your savings dry.  For us, even though we plan on it, and max out our flexible spending account, we still also have enough expenses, over and above what we have set aside in our flex spend, to be a budget buster.  Every, single, year.
  • Incontinence supplies.  Ben is incontinent of bowel and bladder.  Even though we catheterize him, and flush his bowel, his incontinence is severe enough that he must wear briefs in order to avoid soiling his clothing.  This is another budget buster, and another item that Medicaid will furnish for him.
  • Psychiatric care and counseling.  As well as other mental health benefits.

This is what will benefit us.  It’s no small list.  Additionally, Medicaid pays for school therapies, and many more services that will help Ben transition to adulthood with the supports he needs.

While we have always just used Children’s Special Healthcare Services, which covers some, but not even close to all, of Ben’s medical expenses, and paid the rest, it will be an enormous relief and benefit to alleviate that financial strain and hopefully have a savings account that won’t take constant hits.  But that’s just the icing on the cake.  What we really need is the wraparound supports that Medicaid, and Medicaid alone, can provide.  It will benefit every member of our family, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to breathe again.  I wonder if we remember how…