What’s left

We are almost sitcom laugh track worth ’round here today.

Joey, our 23 year old with autism, has a nasty cough and is home in a NyQuil haze.  He’s intoning Disney movie lines in a voice that sounds like the audio of a slow motion replay.

Melissa (mom/caregiver) is suffering from a double shot – one shot of staying up all night to care for Joey and the other a shot of recurring pain from a chronic illness.  She’s closed her eyes for a few minutes (btw I think she’s pretty when she sleeps but that’s just editorializing and so I’ll move on).

Tyrion Aftermath-of-the-attack

Tyrion Lannister visits our living room today.  From here.

I (Tim – dad/caregiver) am sittin’ here typing this while my eyes keep closing and head drops on the verge of sleep.  I have the day off but I’m sleep deprived from some kind of phantom leg pain (possible arthritis although disc problem is another one the doctor threw in to consider).

We are all beat up in one way or another, but not by one another.  If anything, there’s a tenderness in the house that is surprising given how cranky pain can make any one of us.

When all else fails (and hey, what doesn’t when you’re a caregiver?), your kindness remains a gift to those in your care.  On days when all of you are hurting, you find out that everyone in the household is a care giver and a recipient of care at the same time.

Letting another’s head rest on your shoulder is a successful intervention, “How are you?” is deep communication and “Sit down, I’ll get that for you” is heroic service.

Sometimes what’s left is you, and you’re plenty.

I sent a prayer request to a friend in the midst of our family sick day, and what he sent back says it pretty well,

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. (2 Corinthians 1:3-5)

Stop and stare

Today’s e-mail regarding a residential placement for our 23 year old son with autism:

Unfortunately, from speaking to XXXXX there will not be any pre-move meeting to discuss potential dates to move Joey into YYYYY. This is due to being short staff and not having staff in place at YYYYY to best serve Joey safely. According to XXXXX, staffing should be figured out by mid October I was told.

It was only a few weeks ago that we were given a tour of a place, told we had five days to decide, decided, and then received an offer for him to move in.

Now, the whole thing is

a177555_008.jpg

How about a little One Republic while life’s on hold?

Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you’re here not there
And you’d give anything to get what’s fair
But fair ain’t what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see

Ugggh

Received yesterday, the day before the big pre-move planning meeting for our son:

I am contacting you in regards to tomorrow’s meeting for Joey’s move. I was informed that some of the key members of tomorrow’s meeting will not be able to attend… meeting on the 25th… this would ensure attendance by everyone…

Too bummed (and tired from work as well) to blog about it last night.  Was able to churn out a lame email reply expressing our… displeasure.

The roller coaster ride continues.

Wasting away in virgin Margaritaville

Warning: this post contains a graphic crime scene photograph.

Just for fun, we introduced our son with autism to virgin Margaritas.  He liked the fruit-slush result from our blender, so we’ve had them several times and it’s kind of nice to share faux-cocktail time with him when he comes home at the end of a day.

We had them again last night, and were looking forward to finishing the bottled mix off this afternoon.  Melissa suggested we have ours with tortilla chips and guacamole before Joey got home, since he tends to bogart all the chips.

So I filled the blender with what ice we had left, then opened the ‘fridge to get the Margarita mix… (here comes the graphic crime scene photo)…

20170713_162623

Mr. “I don’t have enough fine motor skill to hold a pencil and write” found the skill to unscrew the top of the bottle and drink all of the mix during the night.

We are retaliating by eating all of the tortilla chips without him.

Worthless and weak

I whined about Mother Nature last night, so I guess I can do the same about God the Father this morning.

Care givers have ample experience with unanswered prayer. Prayer that the diagnosis be wrong; prayer that the condition go away; prayer for resources that don’t come; prayer to “do it right” and fix everything that needs fixin’.

OK, sometimes the prayers are answered. But the great mystery is that so much of what’s good, true and beautiful comes when we are rebuffed,

Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:8-10, NLT

So up and at another day, friends. Let’s affirm the reality together, and let the power flow…

Mother Nature, Queen B_@t_h

Nah, I don’t need to spell out the word that every white kid has adopted to self-identify as something other than every white kid (Is there a mathematical formula to express that?).

Anyway, the view from our back deck last night:

So Ma Nature comes struttin’ through here like a Kardashian in front of a camera.

You know what her histrionics can do to an internet signal? The signal upon which your kid with autism (another of Queen B’s contributions) is depending for a bit of entertainment to relax for the night?

The signal which is interrupted, sending the kid into your room with anxiety rising into rage?

The signal which, when lost, can only be explained to the kid with stuff like, “The computer is broken. Uh, until tomorrow…,” the saying of which can put you on the bad end of a person with autism’s violent meltdown?

UPDATE: A friend made contact to note that her daughter with special needs had a seizure due to the systemic disruptions caused by the storm. I was so ticked off for my sake that I neglected to mention Mother Nature’s fine contribution to those in our care.

Thanks, Mother Nature.  Thanks a bunch.

Have you seen this man?

Soooooooo…

We went to a wedding over the weekend.  All three of us – our son with autism included.

There was much in our favor.  The couple came from an extended family of friends that our son, Joey,  knows and enjoys.  The atmosphere was happy earthy rather than formal and uptight.  The weather featured a few of the rationed really-nice-days allocated to South Dakota every year.  And there was food to be downed.

As I shared earlier, the rehearsal went really well for our whole family.  And we were going back to the same place with the same folks for the wedding and reception.

Something changed.

Maybe it was the volume of the music in the reception hall.  Maybe it was the bigger crowd of people.  Whatever it was, it brought out Joey’s “best.”

5118Here’s a surveillance photo of the suspect.  Notice that the look isn’t very happy.  That little bucket was full of chex mix for snacking – he pulled it to himself, spilling some and playing tug-o-war with us as we tried to retrieve it.  Calm words about “sharing” failed.  Then he ate all the chex out of the mix and left us with just the pretzel bits.

What you might not be able to tell from this pic is that he’s not in a chair.  He’s on his knees on the floor.  We tried to coax him into a chair but that agitated him.

Then he scooted on his knees out into the middle aisle of the reception hall – just as the wedding party was set to make its entrance.

Joey’s figured out that he’s big enough to physically resist mom, so I had to hunker down on the floor and drag him just enough to clear the aisle until the wedding party made it through.

Then he stood up and started walking around in front of the head table, which of course was when people wanted to be taking pictures of the couple and their gorgeous bridesmaids and groomsmen.

I managed to stay just calm enough to convince Joey that he didn’t have to sit if he went and stood by the windows along the wall.

The long and short of it is that Melissa and I enjoyed our friends’ wedding very much, we all had a nice dinner and drinks (several drinks in reaction to Joey) and then came home and collapsed.

Care giving is a game of home court advantage – you usually wind up losing on the road.

My picture of defiant Joey – actually the whole vibe of trying to handle him – reminded me of this recent movie scene:

 

 

Only human

Just caught a short, brutally honest article from the perspective of caring for a person with dementia or Alzheimer’s.

In Caregivers Are Only Human, Rick Phelps writes,

frayed rope

Image from the linked article.

Everyone loses their temper once in a while. People say things to each other that they don’t mean under far less stressful situations. Caregivers are under an incredible amount of pressure, and they are not immune to letting their emotions get the best of them. Dementia adds yet another challenge to the mix.

There are several comments at the article that are worth reading as well.

In Raising a Child With Autism, I describe an ice storm that clobbered our town a few years ago.  The aftermath of that mess serves as an image for caregiver breakdown,

Sometimes physically, but more often emotionally, caregivers sag like ice-burdened trees. We wonder if our groaning means we’re bending with the effort or if it’s the prelude to falling down.

All relationships – not just care giving situations – can take us to our limits and show us at our worst.  As author Anne Kennedy reminds us with a recurring chapter heading in her book for “angry or worn out people,” You Still Can’t Do It.

Which is why care giving or just plain ol’ family life can be the door to discovering the unearned, undeserved favor of a loving and very patient God.

The overlooked caregivers

Today is “Siblings’ Day” when one should appreciate brothers and sisters.

The brothers and sisters of a child with special needs are too easily overlooked.  It is easy to appreciate how they “help” with care giving but overlook their unique needs.

Here’s a short video that’s a helpful reminder.

 

NO, IT’S NOT BAD PARENTING

Award winning author Norma Gail asked me some probing questions in an interview shared on her blog.

Here’s a bit of it, with some key quotes available for Tweets embedded by the host,

NORMA GAIL:  Autism affects 1-68 children in America. That’s more common than most people probably realize. What are the most basic things you wish people knew about Autism and the families it affects?

Leonidas

Lifted here.  You might find the article amusing, too.

SOMETIMES CARE GIVING STINKS: I think I speak for many families of children with autism who want to scream, “NO, IT’S NOT DUE TO BAD PARENTING.”  It’s a neurological disorder, most likely genetic rather than environmental in origin (although people debate that with some ferocity).  One of the hardest things is that kids with autism are impaired socially and so their parents can invest sacrificial work with little to no emotional connection in response.  We were spared that – Joey is very connected emotionally, albeit in some quirky ways.

There is no “cure” for autism or any one therapy that is useful in all cases.  Families hope for a “silver bullet” that will solve things, and this can leave us open to bad advice, blaming or other traps.

Parents deal with feelings similar to grieving a death.  Various hopes and dreams we hold out for a typical child often have to be given up for a child with autism.  Some kids on the autism spectrum grow up to play sports, perform in the arts, excel in academics or vocational skill, get married and all kinds of other things we think of as making for a “good life.”  But many will never experience some or all of those things.  They have other pleasures – parents have to learn to love those.

Siblings can feel ignored due to all the effort and attention put into caring for the child with autism.  The whole family is impacted.

Allies mean a great deal.  Educators, medical people, community programs, understanding churches (not always easy to find), and just plain caring folks make life better.  There’s a neighbor of ours who routinely keeps going down our sidewalk when clearing his of snow – the time and effort he saves us is a precious gift.

NG: What are some of the greatest challenges faced by parenting a child with a disability?

SCGS: As the book points out, family caregivers – and this applies in situations beyond Autism, such as Alzheimer’s, spousal disability and many other conditions – are trying to fulfill roles beyond the knowledge, skill, energy, patience and finances of a typical individual or family.  We get stretched beyond our limits and, really, beyond any realistic expectation of becoming “good at it.”

In our case, we had to deal with Joey’s “meltdowns.” Kids with autism become frustrated when they can’t understand or be understood by others, and this can lead to a violent outburst.  It’s not the same as a tantrum, in which a kid wants a toy.  It is an all consuming surge of energy in an effort to connect with a world that seems out of touch.  It is heartbreaking to try and contain a beloved child who is putting you in serious danger – Joey would punch, kick, bite and throw objects at us.

There were several years where we didn’t think that Joey or any of us would ever sleep.  The stuff that makes you laugh after the years of raising a baby keeps going when autism is in play.  I sometimes tell people, “Imagine having a combination of newborn and toddler for a couple of decades.”

Parents share war stories of dealing with “the system.”  Some school districts are downright hostile to special needs kids, considering them a financial drain on services for “normal” kids.  Then there are the insurance issues, efforts to see specialists, quests for specialized therapies – it is exhausting and sometimes fruitless.

+++

Check out the interview.  Leave a comment there on Norma Gail’s blog and you might win a signed copy of Raising a Child With Autism.