Arranging

Setting up the scene---Janey is home from school in the afternoon.  She has asked me to put on a show---let's say Kipper.  As the show starts, she starts her routine.  She takes the remote from me and places it in the middle of the right couch cushion.  She observes it, and then re-places it several times to make sure it's right in the middle.  She then surveys the room, and looks for laundry baskets.  I have four of them, and I tend to leave them in the room after folding laundry.  Janey goes to any she sees and moves them carefully to the place she sees as correct.  Then, if there are any shoes in the room, they need to be lined up, left on the left and right on the right, next to each other.  If it's a light arranging day, the next step is the last---she looks in the trash and makes sure nothing in there is out of place.  Certain things don't belong there---magazines, wet pull-ups, most any form of crumpled paper.  Those items get taken out and put next to the can.  Then, and only then, does Janey settle down to watch her video.

Although it sounds hard to believe, I first noticed Janey arranging things literally as soon as she could purposely use her hands.  She would make sure toys she could reach were symmetrically positioned.  Her arranging habits well pre-date her autism diagnosis.  Over the years, the habit has ebbed and flowed, sometimes almost disappearing for long periods, sometimes being out in force.  Lately, it's at a huge peak.  The arranging rituals can take a very long time.  They are almost always done before she does something she enjoys or something relaxing---before a video or before going to sleep at night.

Unlike many of Janey's behaviors, I relate very much to the organizing and arranging.  Not that I am much of an arranger.  But I know how it is to feel I need to do something that to an outsider doesn't seem to make much sense.  I'm completely sure Janey has OCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder).  I am sure because I also have it.

My OCD never took the form of arranging.  It's funny (in a strange, not ha-ha way)---OCD has a lot of forms, and most people specialize in one of them.  I was a checker.  I checked things.  On my worse days, I could check my pocketbook to make sure my credit cards and keys were in it thirty times in a row.  I could re-open a bill envelope over and over to make sure I put the check in it.  I could go down to the cellar enough to get a great workout to make sure I'd actually started the dryer.

OCD doesn't bother me much any more.  Mine has been very well under control, with medication, for a long time now.  Even before that, like with Janey, sometimes years and years would go by without the checking urges.  It's a strange disorder.  Like Janey also, I think I had OCD pretty much from birth.  I can remember as far back as my memory goes needing to check things, feeling like if I didn't check them, sometimes horrible, something unacceptable, would happen.  Unlike Janey, though, I usually knew that my checking made no sense.  Most people with OCD have that knowledge.  We know our obsessions and compulsions are generated by our minds, but that doesn't make them any easier to not do.  I don't think Janey understands that.  I don't think she has the kind of perspective that allows her to see that.

Sometimes, when the arranging gets out of hand, almost anyone would feel like saying, with some degree of impatience, "Just stop that!  Stop moving the baskets!  Stop taking things out of the trash!  Stop uncrossing people's crossed legs (another big one)!"  But I don't usually feel that way.  I know how it feels.  I know how, despite in my case knowing full well I didn't need to check my pocketbook again, I still couldn't help doing it, no matter how hard to tried to fight it.

When we next see Janey's psychiatrist, I'm going to do my level best to explain more effectively than I have in the past what is going on, and ask him about medication specifically for OCD.  I have resisted, partially because I hate the thought of her being on another medication and also because, interestingly, I think the lack of perspective in her situation makes the OCD less distressing.  It's a bit of a problem for us, but for her, I think it isn't, mostly.  I think it just feels like something that needs to be done, or it did in the past, until this latest escalation.  Now, occasionally, she is getting upset, because part of her arranging now involves my placement.  I am supposed to be in the bedroom while she watches her shows.  I can't always be there, partly because I need to check on her quite often and partly because I don't always want to just stay in there for long periods.  So far, she has mostly accepted it when I've explained I have to be elsewhere---at least for a few minutes, until she tries again to push me to the bedroom.

In a strange, small way, it feels good to be able to relate to one of Janey's behaviors as I do with this one.  I'm not autistic, which is why I often get some very good insight from those adults I know who are autistic on Janey's behavior.  With the OCD, I have the perspective. I've talked before about having OCD, but not quite in this detail, and it's a little hard to do, but also---very fair.  I write about Janey, hoping I am representing her in a way she'd approve of if she could read what I wrote, and so I should also be willing to be open about myself.

Now, to have a few minutes to myself before the bus arrives home and we start this afternoon's session of arranging.....

The Pajama Game

Traditionally, Janey hasn't cared a great deal what she wore.  Once in a while, she'd get attached to a certain shirt, especially at one point her "rainbow shirt", which was a tacky thing with sequins making up a rainbow.  But usually, she just wears what I put on her.  Lately, though, that isn't the case.  Janey has become hugely attached to pajamas, and most especially, her "snowman jammies", a fleecy nightgown, very wintery, with snowmen on it.

All weekend, Janey wanted to wear her snowman getup.  It was a fairly hot weekend, with yesterday close to 90, and it was painful for me to see her in fleece.  But I gave in mostly.  I cruelly insisted on regular clothes when we had to leave the house, but inside the house, I let her wear the nightgown.  By midday yesterday, it was covered with food, and I had to wash it.  That was traumatic.  Janey kept searching for it, and throwing a complete fit when we tried to substitute other nightgowns, or, God forbid, regular clothes.  When Tony was going to take her to the store, she had reluctantly settled on a long ago outgrown pajama top.  He put shorts under it and was heading out the door.  I stopped them, and tried very hard to convince them both that a too small pajama top was not suitable wear for out in public, but Tony said "it took this long to get her into something---just let it be!"  I realized he had a point.  The top covered what needed to be covered, was fairly clean and at a distance might not look like pajamas, so I let it go.  She fell asleep in it later, so I didn't have the nighttime snowman jammie fight.

I think the jammie obsession is part of Janey's need to recreate situations that comfort her.  Friday night, once she got in the nightgown and I lay down with her to get her to sleep, she has the most wonderful look of comfort and happiness on her face, and she actually looked straight at me and said "together again!"  It was great.  The jammies are part of the stage setup she uses.  They are part of how she creates a comfort zone for herself, and I do respect and understand that.  But....

I was worried about dressing Janey for school today.  I managed to get her to have a bath, which has started to be another battle, and then when dressing her I put on my very best stage banter, which I have gotten good at over the years.  "Hey, look at this nice shirt!  It seems like a jammie shirt to me!  It looks very comfy!  And WOW!  This skirt seems just like a jammie skirt!  It has a nice elastic waist!  It looks so nice!", all the while dressing her as fast as humanly possible, hoping to get away with it.  So far so good.  Janey is watching her usual 7-7:30am dose of Curious George, still dressed for now.

In a way, it's cool to me that Janey has started to notice what she wears.  Although I'm not much of a dresser myself, I enjoy clothes---I enjoy picking them out for her, I like comparing brands, I just plain like clothes.  I've often tried to interest her in clothes.  But of course, like most things with autism, now that she is noticing them, there is her own twist.  That's my Janey.

Growing out of autism?

This article is one of many that have been in the news lately about a study showing that some children grow out of autism, lose the diagnosis.  It's a study in the early stages, as they haven't yet talked about what was done differently, if anything, with those children, or some ways the children might have been different from other autistic kids from the start.  But it certainly caught my interest.  In some ways, my life is a laboratory for that study. My older son was originally diagnosed as autistic, and now is in no way autistic.  And Janey, of course, is severely autistic and I am pretty sure always will be.

You can't make a study on an example of two kids, but it gives me some hard-won insight and ideas to have lived this.  The study only accepted diagnoses from experts in autism.  Both my kids were diagnosed by fairly well known leaders in the field, so that counts.  But there are huge difference between them, and were from the start.

The big, big, big difference is cognitive ability.  Janey is intellectually disabled.  There is a question in my mind whether she always was, and she did lose skills at age 3, but in some ways, she was always delayed.  She didn't walk until she was 2.  Her speech, although she had a lot of it before 3, didn't start as early as many kids, and wasn't as clear to others as some kids.  She even was/is delayed in physical ways---she didn't get teeth until after her first birthday.  William was never cognitively delayed.  He spoke at an incredibly early age, and he was obviously quite a bright kid from the start.  I would guess that when the study is further processed, the big division will be between kids with retardation and kids without it.

Another distinction, one I don't much like to think about, is that William showed signs of autism early, and Janey didn't.  It was not that William had intensive ABA (they didn't do that much back then), but we were aware he was potentially autistic much earlier than Janey.  We may have used that to react differently to him. I don't think so, but it's possible.  Janey blindsided us at age 3.  She has early intervention, but it was only for her walking delays.  It's kind of ironic that her not showing her autistic traits earlier might have lead to a huge difference in outcome, and I don't like to think that, and don't really believe it, but it's possible, I guess.

The truth of the matter here is that I don't think William was ever really autistic, despite being diagnosed by an expert.  I think he had a collection of traits that made him appear autistic.  Part of that is just personality.  It's the same personality that now leads him to study for 6 or 8 hours a night and get near perfect grades, the same personality that makes him a guitar whiz.  He's a hard worker, and he gets very involved in what he loves doing.  That showed up early.  He loved maps, trains, Thomas the Tank Engine, sinks, stoves---he would get VERY into those things!  And as you grow up, having the ability to get very into things isn't bad.  It is what makes experts, professors.  It's probably what has resulted in most all great inventions and steps forward in history.  I think autism is something that shouldn't in some ways be diagnosed until around age 7.  Many things can mimic autism early on, and I am in no way saying they shouldn't get a full court treatment.  They should.  But do they have to be called autism that early?  By the time a child is 7 or 8, it will be obvious who is autistic and who isn't.  Janey is autistic.  There is zero doubt there.  William isn't.  There is zero doubt there too.

The other message I want to put out there is that I didn't do anything magical to make William not autistic.  I didn't put him on any kind of special diet, he didn't get any ABA at all, I didn't do floor time or anything like that.  I gave him a lot of attention, he had an IEP at school until 5th grade, he had some great teachers and therapists, but he also just lived his life.  He was the one that changed.  I didn't make him change.  That sends me a message about Janey.  I am doing the best I can for her, but I don't think there is some magical key that will unlock her.

I look forward very much to following this study as more information comes out.