Summer Summary

If I had to use one word to describe this summer with Janey, I'd have to say "uneventful".  Not much happened.  We did very little.  There weren't many huge ups or downs.  And I guess that is mostly good, but of course, as always, I still feel like I failed somehow.  I had big plans to take Janey places this summer, to keep her busy, to plan out our days.  I should really know better, by this point.  I'm not a summer person, and to be fair to myself, it was close to the hottest summer ever in Boston, with much horrible humidity.  On the very bad days that way, and there were lots of them, I felt accomplished if we left the house and the AC at all.  But still...

What DID we do?  Freddy was home all summer, and that was great.  Most every day, we did do a walk to the nearby 7-11, the "ice cream store" as Janey calls it.  And about twice a week, we got lunch out at either Five Guys or Chipotle.  Once a week or so, we went to Whole Foods and shopped.  I had Janey help me water the garden every few days, and that turned into some fun spraying water around.  We "snuggled on Mama's bed", Janey's term for lying together on what is actually her bed, not mine, and me singing to her, reciting nursery rhymes, reading or just cuddling.  And Janey watched TV, plenty of TV. She had a lot of showers, sometimes several a day, which she loves.  In the evenings most nights, she had a car ride with Daddy. That was the summer.

Janey awaits the bus

Most of the time, Janey was fairly happy.  When she got upset, it was almost always because I couldn't do what she wanted right away, because I said she needed to wait a minute for snuggling or a shower or a walk.  That turned into one of my summer projects, getting Janey to understand and honor "wait a minute!"  I would praise her heavily for being patient for even tiny amounts of time, and I started gradually asking her to wait a minute even if I could do something right away, and by a minute, I mean a minute, or sometimes less.  I think she made a little progress with patience.

I had thoughts of working a lot on her "talker", her AAC apps.  I put three on her new iPad, but she almost always chose Proloquo2Go over the other two, including TouchChat, which is the one they use at school.  However, as I've seen in the past, Janey did NOT want me teaching her, or demonstrating for her, or basically touching the apps at all.  I honored this, because I want her to like the apps, and she does.  She often chooses to use them instead of watching YouTube Kids, her usual favorite iPad thing.  She doesn't use them for conventional conversation, but rather sort of play around with, which is fine---it's how you start learning to talk, but I wish she would communicate with them, I do admit.  Generally she'll pick two words and hit one after the other, like "play" and "read" or "happy" and "silly", and will push them in turn over and over and over and over, for up to half an hour.  She seems to delight in this.  I think she loves how it makes having a word be said an easy thing to do.  But when I tried to get her to say what she was feeling, for example, when she was screaming, she'd either push away the iPad or would always pick "happy", as if she wanted to tell me what she thought I wanted to hear.

Janey's verbal talking sometimes improves after being at home and not in school for vacations or other longer time periods.  That didn't happen this summer.  In fact, by the end of the summer, her talking was at one of its lows.  She has been saying very little at all.  As the summer wore on, more and more, she wanted to snuggle, and to have me next to her, with us looking at each other, without talking.  It seemed to make her happy, but it's a pretty passive activity, and I must admit I get bored of it after a while.

I think Janey was excited to go to school this morning.  I will say freely I was excited to have a day with her at school, where I know she is loved and cared for, and where there is a lot of things going on.  I don't regret skipping summer school this year, though.  I think Janey needed that break.  We'll try summer school again next summer, but if she needs another summer off in the future, we'll that.

I hope you all had a good summer, and I hope school is off to a good start!  Much love to all of you and to your girls (or boys!)

Reflecting on progress at the Whole Foods

At times, progress with Janey can feel glacially slow.  It can stop for long periods, or even go backwards.  However, yesterday morning during a trip to Whole Foods, I realized that Janey has made a lot of progress in the past years, and even just over this summer.

It started with the car ride, and the music in the car.  Earlier this summer, we were going crazy with Janey's constant need to have us switch songs.  We would hear about 10 seconds of a song, and she'd say "Music, please!  Music!" which meant she wanted us to go to the next song.  We decided to gradually stand our ground on a few songs here and there, just calmly saying "I really like this one!  I'm going to listen to it!"  Then after that song was done, we'd switch as much as she wanted to for a while more.  It was surprising how quickly she got used to listening to songs that weren't her total choice, and actually liking some of them.  On this ride, I played a song list of songs from the early 80s, my high school era, and Janey seems to like that era too.  She rocked out a lot and I was very happy!

Janey at the Whole Foods

At the Whole Foods, I realized as we went in that I really don't hold Janey's hand in stores any more.  She's never been much of an eloping threat.  She doesn't run away from us much.  I still always hold her hands on the sidewalk or in parking lots, as she isn't as aware of car danger as I wish she was, but in stores, she does extremely well just walking on her own.  It makes it easier for me, and more fun for her, I think.

I told Janey before we went in that she could pick out some salami.  That's her biggest treat, the extremely expensive salami rack at the Whole Paycheck.  She picked out some very thinly sliced kind that I think if you stuffed it all in, you could eat in one bite, at a cost much closer to ten dollars than five, but a promise is a promise.  And I realized she totally understands now that you have to pay and get out of the store before you eat.  We used to wait until the very end of the trip to get her treat, and then if Tony and I were both shopping, we'd buy hers separately and go right out for her to eat it, but she happily this time dropped it in the cart and didn't mention it while we shopped.

As we walked the aisles, Janey started singing "Oh Susanna"  I love to hear her sing, and she wasn't at all loud, just tuneful.  And we got looks, but not really stares.  Or maybe I'm made progress too, and I don't see things as stares.  We got a lot of smiles, and I felt proud of Janey.  I'm almost always proud of Janey inside, but this was a different kind of proud, a feeling like "Sure, she's different, but she's also so cool, so pretty, so interesting, just a neat kid"  I was on a bit of a high, just thinking how wonderful it was to be walking the store with so few worries about Janey.

We checked out, Janey still being patient, went out to the car, and I asked her if she wanted the salami in the car.  She said no, so I put it with the rest in the trunk.  On the way home, she asked for salami about three times, but each time, when I reminded her we'd have it at home and that it was in the trunk, she accepted the answer calmly.  We got home, and she ate her salami in about two seconds flat.

Janey's reserved look, like at the Five Guys

Today, Freddy and I took Janey to Five Guys for lunch.  Janey looked nervous as we got there, and said as we got out "Whole Foods?"  I said today we were going to a different place, and she didn't fight it.  She said "no" at first as we were at the door, but we coaxed her in, saying "You can have peanuts and french fries!"  She wasn't exactly thrilled to be there, no big smiles or anything, but she sat and eat and behaved.  Thinking about that, it's almost a bigger deal than the Whole Foods, that she would do that well at something she didn't prefer.  She did a whooping kind of scream a few times at the end, not her angry scream but more like a "I just feel like making noise" scream, and we reminded her to be quieter, and she listened and did.  I again noticed looks, but didn't feel they were stares.

It's been a long summer.  And a hugely hot and humid summer, a lot of the time.  But for the first summer in a while without summer school, seeing Janey the last few days, I do think there's been progress, behavioral progress especially.  It's a wonderful feeling, seeing that.

School starts two weeks from today.  I'm still keeping close tabs on that special day.  But I don't feel desperate or close to breaking, as I've felt some summers.  My Janey is growing up, and our journey together, to mutual understanding and compromise and acceptance, is marching on along with the years.

Bread and Salami

I read a book recently called "My Baby Rides the Short Bus".  It was a collection of essays about raising children with various special needs, although most of the kids had autism.  It triggered a lot of thinking for me, and went along with something that had been brewing in my head.

Going back a bit...In general, Janey has been much happier this week.  The medication seems to be helping, and I hope some of the new things I'm trying are helping too, like the positive reinforcement to the extreme.  Whatever it is, I am VERY happy about it.  But realistic, too.  She often has honeymoon periods on a new medication, or a new dose, or a new classroom, or anything new.  Eventually, her moods cycle around again.  But I have to enjoy right now while I can.

I wrote earlier about Tony trying to take Janey to the store and her freaking out and screaming and him having to leave with her.  When that happened, he was buying her some salami, her favorite food right now.  For the next few days, she asked for salami over and over and over, and I told her each time "We don't have any salami.  Remember at the store when you screamed?  We had to leave before we got salami.  Next time, when you don't scream, we will get salami"

A few days ago, Janey and I went to get William from work at Whole Foods.  We left a bit early, and I decided to try a quick shop with her.  She was excited.  First, she went to the area where the VERY expensive salami is, the kind I think they must fly over on its own plane from Italy every morning to justify the cost.  Luckily, that isn't the kind she likes best now.  We found the moderately extremely expensive salami aisle and got a few packs.  They are organic, uncured, no nitrates, that kind of stuff, but she just likes them because they really do taste great.  Then, we went to look for the bread she likes, a very long thin loaf with sesame seeds that is also very, very expensive (they don't call it Whole Paycheck for nothing)

When Janey spotted the bread, she dashed over to get it.  The look on her face was amazing.  It was pure joy.  She grabbed a loaf and put it in the carriage, and looked up at me with that look---the look that seems to say "Life is absolutely perfect!  I could not possibly be happier!"

Later, reflecting on that moment, I had a thought I've had a few times before.  I thought about how once in a while, Janey's autism gives us moments that we would not get with a typical kid, moments that are wonderful.  And then, because my default emotion is always guilt, I told myself "But what cost to her do those moments come at?  Should I really feel happy about moments like that when they come at the cost of so much to her?  Should I be overwhelmed with happiness that she can have pure joy over getting the bread she loves?"

And I decided---yes, I can feel happy about those moments.  They are part of Janey.  It isn't fake joy she feels.  It's real joy.  And her ability to feel joy like that is something that can only be a good thing.  The fact she isn't thinking at that moment the things most 10 year olds would be thinking,  thinking about how her mother is embarrassing her, or about what other treats she might get, or about all the many things I would have been thinking at age 10-- that doesn't matter. What matters is she has a chance to feel the moments of extreme happiness in life we all deserve.  And I rejoice in seeing her feel that happiness.

This comes back to the book I read in that I noticed that many of the most heartbreaking essays there were written by people whose kids are right at the edge of "typical", "normal" They were about kids desperate to fit in but never quite able to, kids struggling to do work at school they never quite can do, or struggling to make friends or socialize.  They were about children feeling left out and sad and feeling like they were not making the grade.

Of course, I wish so much it's hard to express that Janey was going to have a life closer to the typical life.  I wish she could learn to read, that she could get married some day, that she could have friends she could hang out with, that she could have all the things in life so many of us take for granted.  But she can't.  However, she doesn't seem to wish those things.  She isn't really at the point where she realizes what she doesn't have or won't have.  I don't know if she ever will.  Not that life balances things out---as we all learn as kids, life isn't fair.  But I am glad, in a way, she will be spared the heartbreak some of the children in the book felt.  And I am glad she can feel joy at times.  Especially after her terrifying health setback, I am so glad I was able to see that amazing smile and joy over a loaf of bread.  I will unabashedly, unapologetically treasure that moment.

How is Janey doing?

A lot of people have been asking me that question---how is Janey doing at home?  How is her recovery?

Well, it's slow but steady.  She is eating much better than she was, is drinking a good amount, her digestive system seems to be working well based on pullups, she doesn't seem to be in pain most of the time.  She hasn't had any fevers or signs of infection.  Those are all good things!

However, she is still what the surgeon told us to expect, "debilitated".  At the time, it struck me as an unusual word to use.  It sounded more severe than anything I pictured.  But it's actually a very accurate word.  Janey really is debilitated.  She still needs a huge amount of rest.  She spends a lot of the day lying down in bed.  She gets very tired after walking.  She walks hunched over most of the time.  She looks thin and pale.  She looks like what she is, someone who was seriously ill and in the hospital for a long time.

We are taking her out a little at a time.  This afternoon, we took her along when taking her brother William to work at Whole Foods, and took her in the store for a few minutes.  She usually likes Whole Foods a lot, but this time, she got extremely worn out quickly.  I wound up taking her back to the car while Tony checked out.  It's probably lucky that I've gotten used to getting stares over the years due to Janey's behavior, as we got stares.  Not because of her behavior, which was very quiet, but because of the careful and hunched way she was walking, and the fact we had to stop and rest a few times on the way to the car.  They are different kinds of stares than I am used to.  The behavior stares are more curious, more stealthy and sometimes a bit judgey.  These stares look concerned, unsettled.  I don't like either kind much, but I can understand these a bit.

Janey's behavior?  It is not back to normal, but there are shades of it.  She gets very upset when we tell her no, which we are not having to do a lot of---she isn't asking for much.  But when we have to say no, she screams quickly and loudly, intensely, and then it's over, like she knows she won't have the energy to cry for long.  She is biting her arm when she's upset, but she hasn't been aggressive to others at all lately, save one slap to my face a few days ago.  Mostly, she's like a tired version of her old self.  There is no jumping up and down, no running around, no climbing things to get what she wants.  She is watching a great deal of YouTube on her iPad, like in the hospital.

An interesting thing I've noticed is that Janey seems to appreciate little things I don't think she ever noticed much before.  When we first got home, and she was on her own bed, with her own blankets, she smiled the hugest smile you can imagine.  We were all gathered around, and it was a wonderful moment.  I can imagine that despite us trying to explain otherwise to her, she might have not been sure if she had permanently moved to the hospital, and she seemed thrilled that was not the case.  When she asks me to lie with her on the bed, and I do, she has been smiling at me with the sweetest, most loving smile I've ever seen.  She often wanted me to lie with her in the hospital, and there just wasn't room, and I think she loves it than now we can do that.

I can't imagine what has gone on in Janey's mind about this whole ordeal.  I've tried to explain it to her, and she can say "appendix", but I don't think she understands much at all.  To her, it must have felt like some odd kind of arbitrary torture at times.  I keep thinking of the times when she couldn't have anything by mouth, even water.  She would ask over and over and over "Water?  Water, please!  Water!" and we would have to say no.  It killed me to say no to that---one of the basic things a mother does for a child.  I am sure she had no idea why she suddenly had to be thirsty.  Then, when she wasn't drinking enough, we kept urging water on her, and she didn't want it.  She must have thought we'd gone some strange kind of crazy, or become suddenly cruel.  It is so hard to think about that.

I hope Janey is well enough to go to summer school when it starts.  I think she will be.  It's a slow road, though, and it's made harder by her autism.  I can't explain why she needs to try to stand up straight, or why her stomach might still feel weird, or why in fact any of the past month has happened.  But she is a strong girl, and I know there will be a day when this is completely behind us.  I am looking forward to that day.

Eat, Janey, Eat! Part Nine

That's about the size of it---working all the time to get any food into Janey. We can think about going home once she eats a little more than she is now, but she is very non-interested in food.  Just now, as I started to write, we had a little breakthrough.  Tony got a long thin loaf of fancy bread at the Whole Foods near here, and Janey is holding it and taking mini-bites.  She actually asked for it when we thought she was done and took it away.   It's the first she's really eaten without being seriously urged.  This morning, she ate a slice of onion---one of her favorite foods, and she's  had a few slivers of salami.  But that's about it for today.  That isn't enough.  She is getting some breaks from the round the clock nutrition by IV, to try to get her hungry.  I know she will eat in time, but I wish it would be now, although I know she is regulating herself based on what she feels like she can stand.

Otherwise, she is mostly okay.  Today is the last day of her antibiotics---day 14.  It's hard to believe this is day 15 overall in the hospital.  In today's drive-through hospital stay world, that's a long, long time.  She is walking with a lot more ease.  She does still have diarrhea and quite a rash in that area, but her digestive sounds are good, and two of her three drains have been taken out.

That's the physical part.  As Janey gets feeling a bit better, it's getting harder to keep her happy here.  Part of how we knew how very sick she was is how easy she was to care for, when she was sleeping huge parts of the day, watching TV listlessly and just not fighting anything.  Now, she is getting bored, I think.  Thank goodness for the iPad.  For years, we resisted letting her use the iPad as an alternative TV.  The iPad was the device that was supposed to change autism, to teach Janey to communicate, to learn!  I put all kinds of educational programs on there, "fun" one, but I didn't show her that she could watch YouTube on there too.  Well, of course that is no longer the case.  We put on YouTube Kids, a great program which allows her access to a filtered YouTube, and she is watching it around the clock.  She loves the control, so she can watch as little or as much of a show as she wants.  I've tried to show her how to use the voice search, but she doesn't like to talk on demand in that way.

I have a million thoughts about the hospital experience and autism, especially ones comparing this stay with her stay last November as a boarder waiting for a psychiatric bed.  But I've decided to wait on writing more about that until she is home, because I need a full perspective on the stay, and because right now, my main focus is on getting her better and recording the steps that are leading us to that.

Thank you for reading, for your love and thoughts and prayers and support!  We have needed and will be needing it badly!

Out of the Blue

We've been on a pretty good run with Janey lately.  She's settled into the school year routine, and has been fairly cheerful for a good long stretch.  It's been nice.  The time change did result in a sleep issue, where Janey wanted to go to bed about 4 in the afternoon and then wake around 1 am for the rest of the night, but that gradually seems to have gotten better.  It's times like this when out of the blue incidents truly can shake us up.

Yesterday here in the US was Veteran's Day, one of the few holidays that don't attach themselves to the weekend, but occur on the same date each year.  So we had the weekend, and then a day of school and work, and then a day off.  That is never a good scene with Janey, but she did fairly well yesterday.  Daddy was home,which is always a plus.  She was very eager to get out of the house, and we went to a few of her favorite places---Whole Foods for some "ham", which is actually a hugely expensive kind of salami she can always find there, and ToysRUs just to walk around and look at toys and find the few toys she already owns and play with them, to the exclusion of the millions of others toys.  So a typical day.  She slept fairly well, and we were looking forward to this morning, getting back in the routine.

All I can think of is that Janey felt today should be a weekend day.  After all, yesterday felt like a Saturday, albeit a strange Saturday after a one day week, so today should be a Sunday.  When it became evident I was trying to dress her for school, she went ballistic.  Every piece of clothing I tried to put on, she violently took off.  She arched her back and screamed at the top of her lungs "DADDY!  DADDY!"  So Daddy came in and tried to dress her, with similar results.  She is strong, and if she doesn't want to be dressed, she doesn't get dressed.  For 10 minutes, we struggled to get her into her clothes.  The screaming was deafening, she flailed out over and over, she was in a fury.  She tried to hit us, she lunged at us, she hit her own head over and over.  Finally, I think she just wore herself out, and we managed to get the clothes on.  Just in time, as I only was able to quickly brush her hair and teeth before the bus arrived a bit early.  I hope very much she stays calm for the day, but who knows?

I took a deep breath after she was on the bus and thought about the whole incident.  I tried to tell myself she's been quite good for weeks now, and that I should not be so bothered by the tantrum.  But I was.  I think it's the out of the blue nature of these fits that makes them so tough.  She goes from calm to absolutely 100% fury and fight in a matter of seconds.  The mind and body have trouble adjusting to that.  And I can imagine how it feels for her to feel that out of control.  The intensity of these episodes are such that I think in most childhoods, they would be something that would happen only once or twice, and be remembered always.  But with Janey, and with many kids like her, they happen often---not on a regular schedule you can prepare for, but suddenly.  It's like if a day was perfectly sunny, and suddenly a tornado touched down and ripped your house apart, and then lifted and was gone, leaving you stunned.

It's sudden explosions like today that make it  hard to ever totally relax as a parent of a child like Janey.  A day can be perfect, but there is always the knowledge it all can very suddenly blow up.  It causes a stress that never completely goes away.  It is a drain on optimism.  It must make life for Janey, even more than for us, feel like a walk in a minefield.

Autism in public places

This article  ( link ) is getting a lot of buzz today.  It talks about a huge issue in autism---how do we balance our childrens' rights to be out in public with the rights of those they might be somehow disturbing?

My feeling is that common courtesy on both sides goes a long way.  I would not take Janey to a quiet restaurant or movie, because she would not be quiet.  If I were paying for a movie or fancy dinner, which in these days is a financial stretch for many of us, I would not want to be unable to enjoy myself because of noise.  That includes of course other types of noisy people, like those who talk during movies or those who get drunk and disorderly in restaurants.  However, if a place is public and has a built in noise level, or if it's a place Janey needs to be and has every right to be, I expect others to be understanding of her.

I have burned into my mind for all eternity two times that Janey was in a place she had every right to be and she and I were treated rudely.  One was on a commuter rail  ( here's that blog entry ) and one was in a doctor's office she had an appointment at ( read about that here ).  Both incidents still make me cry to think about them. They were, to me, clearcut examples of how people should not react to someone with autism, someone with differences.

However, there are many, many times Janey has been treated with kindness and understanding.  As she gets older, people are more able to see she is different, and they see that we are all trying hard.  Tony takes Janey to stores a lot, and at the stores where she is a regular, she is treated like a star, almost.  She usually gets a lollipop at the register, and she gets a lot of smiles.

Most of the world, though, is in-between.  There are so many times that I am made upset not by outright rudeness, but by staring, or disapproving looks. The ultimate example of that happening is in this post ( link ). I am not a person who is going to put Janey out there into situations to prove a point.  Nothing in this world makes me more uneasy than being the center of attention or being singled out.  But short of keeping Janey home at all times, it's impossible not to get into such situations. Janey makes odd noises.  She cries sometimes.  She jumps around.  She talks oddly and repeats phrases.  If that bothers people, then I do have a problem with that.  None of those actions of hers hurts others.  None of them are illegal, or keep others from doing what they need to do.  I am not going to hide her because she might make someone uncomfortable.

The article that got me thinking gave a great example of a case where I would draw the line, where I would remove Janey from the situation.  It told of a man with autism that would eat food right out of the hot food bar at Whole Foods.  That is a health and safety issue, and a rudeness issue.  If Janey starts to do something like that, I firmly tell her no, and if she continues, we leave.  I don't expect exceptions to the rules for Janey.  She needs to learn what she CAN learn, so that she CAN be out in public.  But her just being autistic, without doing anything unhealthy or illegal or wrong, is not grounds for her not being welcome in public.

In a perfect world, everyone would be striving to be as kind and fair and understanding as they could.  That's not this world.  I need to be strong enough to stand up to the jerks out there, and also understanding enough to find that balance between Janey's rights and the rights of others.  It's not easy, but then again, not much about this autism parenting gig is.