Getting the Blood Flowing

Nigel and Aidan come from a long line of national park enthusiasts. When I was a child, my family combed the western states, visiting nearly every national park from Yosemite to Mt. Rushmore (technically, that’s a national monument, but you get the idea). We went to the Grand Canyon three times. My mother has been a ranger at Lassen in California and is currently a ranger at Crater Lake National Park here in Oregon. For many years she was a tour guide in Yellowstone. I have taken Nigel and Aidan to all of those parks and several others.

And so, my sons were looking forward to our recent trip to the Grand Canyon (their first) as much as I was. Along the way, we stopped at Hoover Dam, per Nigel’s request. He insisted on walking half-way across the dam so that he could stand on the border of Nevada and Arizona, as you will see in the photo below. It was hideously hot, well into triple digits. We slid into our (mercifully air conditioned) rental car and connected with I-40 all the way to Flagstaff, where the boys were only too happy to leap into the hotel pool. We rose early the next morning to head to the busiest national park at the busiest time of year.

Having been to the GC before, I knew that the best way to experience it is to get down in it, even just a little. There are two trails along the South Rim that you can take. One, Bright Angel Trail, is more like a thoroughfare. You’ve got tons of people like me who want to hike into the canyon, and you’ve got the mule trains going forth and back. Not ideal conditions for two boys with sensory issues. So I took them on the Kaibab Trail, which is far less crowded and – according to a website that turned out to be wrong -not used by the mule trains.

So we get to the trailhead, strap on our hydration pack, and head out, or down, I should say. Nothing like a good hike to get the blood flowing! We have barely begun, are only fifty feet from the trailhead, and Aidan, with his vestibular hypersensitivity, stops short. “I don’t think I can do this, Mom,” he tells me. “It’s okay, honey,” I assure him. “We’re not going to be near any cliffs.” I put my arm around him and try to gently lead him forward. He does not budge. “I can’t do it, Mom!” We are five feet below the rim, and he is having an attack of acrophobia. This I had not planned for. Nigel is barreling on ahead, and I call out to him to slow down for Aidan. “Can’t I just wait at the trailhead for you?” Aidan asks. I tell him I don’t want him waiting alone for an hour and a half. Then I put him on the inside of the trail, and I explain to him that we will walk together slowly and that I will switch places with him whenever the trail switches direction. He reluctantly complies.

At every switchback, Aidan complains a bit, but he walks with me, staring down his fear. I tell him how well he’s doing and how proud I am of him as we catch up to Nigel. We are five minutes into the Grand Canyon, and Nigel has the mother of all bloody noses. As he usually does whenever he gets a bloody nose, he has smeared it all over his face. We have been on countless family hikes, Nigel has been hiking with Scouts for almost five years, and he’s never had a bloody nose on a hike. Of course now I don’t have any tissues. Of course. One small stroke of luck is that Nigel is wearing a navy blue shirt, so the blood will not glare as much, and I tell him to use his shirt to wipe his face. The blood is pouring out of his nose, it’s a proverbial faucet, so I sit him down and instruct him to pinch the sides of it. Aidan sits down next to him. I try to wipe more blood with the blue shirt.

At this point, people -other hikers – have started stopping and asking if Nigel’s okay. I mean, it looks like a rock landed on his face. I tell them he’s fine, it’s just a bloody nose. Two different parties of people stop to offer us tissues, and I couldn’t thank them enough. Who goes on a hike and doesn’t bring tissues?! Good grief, you’d think I’d never been on a hike before. So we lost about a half an hour with that. Nigel would get antsy from sitting, say, “I think the bleeding has stopped,” and we would start walking. Seconds later he’d be bleeding again, so we’d stop and sit and blot and pinch. Then we’d get up and keep walking and sit down again when he needed to. Finally the bleeding stopped for good.

And Aidan, acrophobic Aidan, continued on alone up front. I guess he realized that the trail was actually pretty safe, or maybe he just got used to it. I was shocked but knew better than to make a big deal out of it. We met up with him at Oo-Ah Point (yes, it’s called that because of the view), which he quickly surveyed, unimpressed, and then turned around to head back up. I snapped a few photos and headed back with Nigel, pacing ourselves. Aidan must have felt much more confident going up, and he was quickly out of sight.

Aidan at Oo-Ah Point

Nigel at Oo-Ah Point, with his blood-soaked shirt and tissue-stuffed nostril

About half-way up, we ran into a mule train coming down, maybe eight of them. They were in training, with blocks of wood on their backs. We stepped to the side as they passed, and I hoped that Aidan had managed okay. Soon, we reached the top and found him waiting at the trailhead. I couldn’t wait to praise him again for being so brave in the Canyon, but before I could, he said, “I thought you said there would be no mules on this trail!” I told him that I had been misinformed, and then we headed straight to the lodge for ice cream. Because really, that’s our favorite part about national parks. Bring on the heat, acrophobia, bloody noses, and mule trains. Just don’t forget the ice cream.

After ice cream, Nigel meets a new friend

at Wupatki Indian Ruins the next day

a centuries-old ball court

Boys and sticks in the desert

Things Are Not Always As They Seem

As an autism parent nearly twelve years post diagnosis, I (and, I’m sure, many other parents) have developed what is often referred to as “A-dar,” short for autism radar. It’s the awareness of a possible autism diagnosis through observing the behavior and facial cues of children and adults with whom we happen to come in contact. It’s not something I ever make an effort to do – it just happens. I’ll be in a public place, or a gathering of some sort, and I happen to notice something different, but all too familiar. My spine sort of tingles, and I know. Or I think I know.

A week before going to Nepal, I spent a couple of days visiting with my extended family that lives in Los Angeles County, where I grew up. My brother and sister-in-law hosted a barbeque on the Fourth of July, and, in addition to everyone’s company, I enjoyed lounging around their pool and watching the fireworks from it. We could see about a dozen different fireworks shows in the surrounding communities, all going off intermittently. It was really cool to watch, and I was happy to be there.

The next day, my brother and I got together with our youngest sister and drove out to Hacienda Heights, a city in LA County where we had spent most of our childhood. We drove by three of the homes we’d lived in, stopping to take photos of two of them. They’d both been redecorated, of course, and we were relieved that they were not in disrepair. One had had a tree in the front yard that my brother and I used to climb regularly, and it had been taken out, we noted with disappointment.  One had been a brand new home when we moved into it in 1976, and so the baby trees that our parents had planted had grown up all these years later, towering over the house.  The fact that we had now grown up, too, was not lost on us.

Then we went to the local ice cream store where I had worked during high school. It was still there! It felt weird to be buying cones from the other side of the counter, noting all the changes in the place since I’d been gone for twenty years. The chain grocery store that had anchored the shopping center was empty, out of business. But the ice cream store was still there, a little oasis on a hot day. Then we drove out to the mall where we used to buy all our school clothes while growing up, and we stopped for lunch at a Mexican restaurant that we’d loved as kids. This time, though, we had margaritas.

After lunch, we drove out to the cemetery where one of our grandfathers is buried. We couldn’t remember where it was, but we had a hunch and were able to find it. The three of us sat under a tree on a bench next to his grave and talked about our memories of him. My brother noticed a cigarette butt on the grave marker and got up to flick it away. Then we laughed as we realized that Grandpa probably liked having it there, since he was a smoker who always tried to hide it from everyone.  

When it was time to drive back to my brother’s house, he stopped for gas and got out to pump it. Sitting in the passenger seat, I began to hear some type of vocal stimming coming from the SUV filling up next to us. “Kava, kava, kava, kava,” it sounded like. A few seconds went by, then “Kava, kava, kava,” again. It was a masculine voice, maybe an older teen. I wanted to see him, wanted to see if my interpretation of what I was hearing was correct. But the windows of the SUV were dark, and I could not see in. After another minute, the SUV pulled away, and I silently wished them well.  

Seconds later, I heard it again. “Kava, kava, kava.” Obviously, it had not been from an occupant of the SUV. I turned around and looked. “Kava, kava, kava.” It was a young man selling flowers. What? I thought. What is he saying? I strained to decipher it and decided that he must be saying “Flowah, flowah, flowah.” But he was saying it so quickly and run-together, with a non-native-English-speaker accent, that I thought I had been hearing vocal stimming. I had been convinced that that’s what it was. I laughed inwardly at myself, my certainty, and my mistake. Sometimes things are not always as they appear to be. Houses are repainted, trees grow bigger or get removed, and sometimes a guy is just selling flowers.

My brother and I in front of one of our childhood homes

Home Again

How can I even begin to tell you about my trip? I guess I can start by saying that what Meg from The Pages of Our Crazy Life commented about (me) “coming back a changed woman” turned out to be entirely true. And I knew that the trip would change me, but I had no idea in what ways and to what extent. It was the kind of experience that makes you question and/or appreciate so many things about your life. Questioning my priorities. Learning new truths. Appreciating what we have – and what we don’t have. Realizing that friendship transcends culture and language, and that the emotions we experience as autism parents are universal and run so deep, even on the other side of the world.

I came home three days ago to a 108-degree heat wave, a cat-scratched leather couch, and an ant infestation. I have three-foot-high weeds in my yard (that somehow grew in the heat), a major work deadline (that was already extended because of the trip), and about two hundred unread/unanswered emails (that I can’t even begin to tackle). I’ve missed blogging like crazy. And let me just say that this 108-degree heat wave actually feels good compared to the 87% humidity and heat in Nepal. I’m serious.

I think the only way I can write about this nearly month-long trip is to break it up into segments – because that’s exactly how it happened. I started off by celebrating the Fourth of July with the SoCal contingent of my extended family. Then I went with my brother and sister to visit our childhood homes, picked up my sons and took them to the Grand Canyon, spent a day on the beach with my dad, went winetasting with some relatives, and then flew to Nepal for two weeks, where I experienced so many amazing things. And all of it begs to be written about.

So, my friends, if you’ll indulge me, I’ll feature a particular part or topic of my trip in several different posts over the next couple of weeks. I wouldn’t be able to do it justice otherwise. I’ll also need to spread the posts out a bit because my boss was right about something (as she often is).  I dragged myself into work Tuesday morning, after approximately 22 hours of plane time. My boss gave me a hug and told me it’ll take a week for me to get over the jetlag. I waved it off and said, “Oh, I’ll be fine in three days.” Well, today is the third day, and all I can say is – What the hell do I know?!

Carved wooden doors at the Kathmandu Airport. More pics and stories to come!

The Adventure Begins

 *

Some of you may recall that a couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I would be taking Nigel and Aidan to the Grand Canyon when I go to visit them during their two-month stay at their dad’s house. Some of you may also recall that in April I mentioned that I would be going to Nepal this summer with Knowledge for People to do an autism educational volunteer program. And some of you may be as excited as I am when I tell you that I am doing both trips!

Friday morning I fly to LA, and I’ll spend the 4th with my extended family members who live there – Dad, brother and sister-in-law, and my sister. (In case you’re curious – I’m actually from LA. I moved up to Oregon to go to college and ended up staying. It’s that beautiful. Funny thing, Nigel and Aidan’s dad is also from LA, but we met and married in Oregon. Just a little Tanya Trivia for you.) Anywaaaayyy, then I am renting a car and picking up the boys to go to the Grand Canyon for a few days. This will be my fourth time there, and the first for them. I’m looking forward to sharing it with them, but really, I just can’t wait to see them and hug them. I’ve missed them so much already.

After I return Nigel and Aidan to their dad’s house, I will fly out of LAX for Nepal. I’ve spent the last week preparing two presentations I’ll be giving – one on sensory issues, and the other on my parenting experience. I’m the only parent of an autistic child on the team going to Nepal, and I feel so humbled to be speaking to these parents and teachers (through an interpreter). How can I talk about the challenges of raising a child with autism, when I have no idea how challenging their lives already are? Who am I to talk to them about challenges?! They are in a country with no resources for their child! But we are hoping to help with that, and I am honored to be a part of this.  I prepared outlines of my presentations and sent them to the director of Knowledge for People, and she will forward them to the founders of the newly-formed autism center in Kathmandu who, I hope, will have the outlines translated prior to our arrival. That way the parents will have something to refer to while the interpreter and I are speaking to them, and they’ll have some written material to take home with them.

And in case I sound all nonchalant as I’m mentioning that I’ll be traveling to Nepal and speaking to a group of people and having my words translated and all, don’t let the casual tone of my writing fool you. I can’t believe I’m doing this!!! I can’t believe, after months of planning and preparation and thinking can I really do this?, that the time has come and I am doing it!! Talk about taking a leap! I’m a little nervous, but fortunately my excitement seems to be overriding my butterflies.

So, my friends, the blog will be quiet for a while. We’re supposed to have internet access in one of the places we’re staying, but I am laptopless, so I’m not planning on posting during my absence. That just means I’ll have plenty to post about when I return! (And I’ll be swamped with work to catch up on, but we won’t talk about that now.) I’ll be back in Oregon on July 28, and I promise I’ll post as soon as my jetlag fog clears. Namaste!

 

*photo courtesy Wikipedia

Noteworthy Notices

Every now and then, I receive an email from someone affiliated with an organization that supports ASD individuals and their families asking if I will post a notice about them on my website, and I am more than happy to do so. I am honored to be asked. When I started this blog/website over a year ago, I had hoped for it to become a resource for other parents and those on the spectrum, as well as a way for me (and my sons) to connect with them. Passing along helpful links and information is one way to accomplish that. It is my pleasure to highlight the following organizations:

  • Autism on the Seas provides group cruises for adults and families living with autism and Asperger’s. They specifically accommodate children – and adults – on the spectrum, partnering with Royal Caribbean International and Disney. “We’ve made cruising with autism our expertise,” they say, and their website lists numerous testimonials from happy patrons. I am definitely considering this for a future trip!
  • Possibili-Tees is a non-profit 501(c)3 organization that does custom screen printing. They exclusively hire those with autism and other developmental disabilities to print shirts, hats, and other items for camps, schools, sports, conferences, and various events. You can also purchase shirts individually on their website.
  • The Phoenix Zoo has begun fundraising for the 5th annual Zoo Walk, which is on October 17, 2009. Their goal for 2009 is to raise $150,000 for a study of several autism treatments, including diet and nutritional supplements in 100 children and adults. Join them for a great family event and support research on effective treatments for autism!
  • Rethink Autism is a web-based autism treatment platform that helps parents and professionals design individualized, affordable programming to meet each child’s learning goals, while state-of-the-art data-tracking systems allow users to track the learner’s progress. Using ABA-based methods, the video curriculum includes hundreds of exercises and training modules based on proven teaching techniques. The lessons target a comprehensive range of skills in critical developmental areas such as language and motor skills, social and emotional learning, and daily living. For parents who are having difficulty obtaining behavioral treatment for their children, this is truly a valuable resource. Please click on this link to see a video of a CBS News feature about the site:  http://wcbstv.com/video/?id=130578@wcbs.dayport.com

Autism Safety & Risk Management, Part 4

During Dennis Debbaubt’s seminars for training law enforcement and emergency services personnel, the first thing he tells them about encountering an ASD individual in the field is to expect the unexpected. He teaches them about the various behaviors they might see, the communication difficulties they might encounter, and the best ways they might handle those situations. He discusses the sensory issues and anxieties that ASD individuals can have. He stresses that each ASD individual is exactly that – an individual. They are similar in some ways but by no means all alike.

And so, since we parents know how true that is, it’s up to us to use the tools that we know will help our individual children best. We have many resources available to us, but they do no good if we do not utilize them to prepare for emergency situations, not just react to them. With that in mind, I would like to remind you of the links for resources listed in Autism Safety & Risk Mangement, Part 2, including ASA’s Safe & Sound program, safety videos, MedicAlert bracelets, shoe tags, non-permanent tattoos, Project Lifesaver, and personal GPS tracking systems. In my previous post, I mentioned disclosure with neighbors, writing “social safety” teaching into your child’s IEP, and carrying a handout card. I discovered an excellent source for purchasing handout cards: AutismCards.com. They have numerous designs with different content, so you can look around and choose what would be most effective for your child. Most important, don’t forget to fill out and make copies of the Autism Emergency Information Form. All of these tools are valuable resources; we just need to decide what works best for our children and follow through with our risk and safety management.

Last on the list of resources – but certainly not least – is Dennis. Dennis Debbaubt’s seminars are invaluable for helping your local law enforcement and emergency services personnel learn about autism and how to interact with your ASD child. Unfortunately, in many cases Dennis is asked to come and give his presentations as a result of something that went wrong, such as a wandering autistic teen being tasered by police, or a child who wanders away from school and drowns. And then Dennis is summoned to present his special training seminars – one specifically designed for law enforcement personnel and first responders, and the other for parents, teachers, and caregivers. But we shouldn’t wait until something happens. For our children’s safety and our own peace of mind, we need to be proactive.

So – how do you get Dennis, you ask? Two of the best approaches you could take would be to a) contact your state or local chapter of the Autism Society of America, or b) to contact your local Education Service District. You can also see if the two agencies would be willing to split the cost to host Dennis. However you get him, he’s worth it. I admire Dennis so much for what he does, and I feel fortunate to have met him and learned from him. I can’t tell you how glad I am that he presented his seminars in my area. It is such a relief to know that those in my community who are out there safeguarding my son now have the tools to help him and understand him better. And I’m sure that they’re just as glad to have that knowledge.  

Autism Safety & Risk Management, Part 3

One of the stats that really stood out to me from Dennis Debbaubt’s Autism Risk & Safety Management Seminar that I attended is the fact that ASD people, throughout their lifetimes, have up to seven times more contact with law enforcement than the general population. Add to that figure the fact that there is a deficit of training for interactions with ASD people, and we have a gap that needs to be filled. Dennis Debbaubt’s training seminars help to fill that gap, but what’s equally important is parents’ willingness to disclose information about their child. We all value our privacy – and need it to protect our children. But if you want to upgrade safety, Dennis points out, you have to give up a little privacy.

The first thing you can do in your community to help manage risk is to reach out and get to know your neighbors. It is undeniable that the behaviors and characteristics of autism have the potential to attract attention from the public. By disclosing to your neighbors the fact that your child has autism, you will help avoid problems down the road. Talking with your neighbors about your child will tell them that you are approachable and responsible. Your neighbors will know the reason for any unusual behaviors they might see, and they can notify you first if they see your child taking off clothes outside (Nigel has done this), wandering (this too), or destroying property (um, no comment). Knowing your neighbors can also lead to better social interactions for your ASD child, especially when they are older and people would expect them to be more socially adept. If your neighbors know about your child’s autism, they will usually be more understanding. [Note: Some parents fear that this disclosure would increase their child’s risk for abduction or sexual abuse. Dennis Debbaubt has researched this topic, and for parents who are concerned, he recommends reading Ken Lanning’s booklet, Child Molesters: A Behavioral Analysis, which provides characteristics of pedophiles, among other investigative strategies. It was written as a tool for law enforcement officers and child-protection professionals, but it has helpful information for parents who want to know.]

The next thing you can do in your community is to have risk and safety concerns written into your child’s IEP, if you have not already. At your IEP meeting, discuss with the teachers and therapists what the de-escalation plan is for your child, and what they should do if your child is not able to de-escalate. This should be a mandatory part of all IEPs, so that we don’t continue to read news stories about ASD children and teens being arrested and handcuffed because of a sensory meltdown.  Teachers, aides, and therapists are our children’s primary caregivers when they’re at school – they need plans in place to help care for your individual child the best way possible, especially in difficult situations. Schools can also plan educational opportunities for children to learn to recognize and be comfortable with law enforcement and emergency services personnel out in the community, which will help in an emergency situation. These field trips will also help your local law enforcement and emergency services personnel to become familiar with the ASD children in your community and how best to communicate with them and help them.

Another area of concern that can be addressed at school and written into the IEP is “social safety” teaching. Social stories can be used to teach children and teens about important things like public restroom “etiquette” for their safety, and learning appropriate behavior for stores, hospitals, airports, etc. Equally important is being able to recognize “false friends,” people who will target both verbal and nonverbal ASD individuals because they are vulnerable. Our ASD kids can be tricked into doing inappropriate or unlawful things without their understanding, and when law enforcement arrives on the scene, the ASD individual is left holding the bag. As the parent of a verbal autistic 14-year-old, this is one of my greatest concerns. My son is starting to want to be independent, but he doesn’t have the ability to know when people are using him or to avoid questionable situations. Additionally, if he is walking down the street and sees a broken window or some used fireworks or a dead animal or anything unusual that catches his eye, he will stop to investigate for a lengthy time period, and could easily be blamed for whatever occurred, especially since he avoids eye contact when speaking to people and can “act out” when nervous or under stress, making himself look suspicious or like he’s on drugs.

That brings us to the final topic for things you can do in your community for your child’s safety. We can’t expect police to field-diagnose a person with autism, so we need to have a way to notify them. Dennis recommends that either you, or your semi-independent older child/teen, carry a handout card. The handout card should be typed, approximately the size of a business card, and able to be copied and laminated. It should tell the officers that they are interacting with a person with autism and indicate that the person (your child) will be anxious in new situations with new people, will avoid eye contact, may or may not be able to speak, needs to hear calm, direct language avoiding slang and sarcasm, needs extra time to answer questions and may repeat what is said to them, may rock, pace, or engage in self-stimulatory behavior,  may make inappropriate comments or gestures, may give a false confession, and may display extreme distress such as yelling, crying, or physical agitation. It’s also important to have the handout card mention sensory issues with sound, lights, or touch, or a fear of dogs. It should also suggest removing your child from areas that may aggravate sensory issues and escalate behavior. The card should note if your child is prone to seizures and what the officer should do if one occurs. Most importantly, the card should list contact information for parents, caregivers, therapists, or doctors. If your child or teen is at a point where they are out in the community independently, even for a short time, carrying a handout card is a must. Teach them not to run from police officers, to tell the officer that they have autism or Asperger’s, and to say that they have a medical card to give to the officer, but to wait until the officer tells them it’s okay to get the card before they reach for it.

Learning about handout cards really helped to put my mind at ease with my son being alone in the community more often as he nears adulthood. I’ll always worry – that’s a given – but at least I know that there’s a tool in place that can help him in certain situations. Dennis suggests that handout cards can also be helpful for nonverbal individuals when combined with an ID bracelet. These are simple, effective tools for helping to keep our ASD children safe in our community. Using these tools, along with being willing to disclose information to our neighbors and working with the schools to promote safety awareness, will help to manage risk and give us a little more peace of mind.

Autism Safety & Risk Management, Part 2

Dennis Debbaubt began his Autism Risk & Safety Management Seminar with a powerful analogy: How many people wore their seatbelts on the way to this seminar? How many people just put it on without even thinking about it? We don’t think about the fact that we might get in an accident – we just put it on because it’s part of our daily safety routine, like locking doors and looking both ways. We didn’t arrive at the seminar and say, “Well, that was a waste of time, putting on my seatbelt. I didn’t even get in an accident!” And we’re still going to wear our seatbelts the next time we get in the car. Likewise, managing risk for our children is part of our daily safety routine. We don’t have incidents occurring every day, but we still need to have those risk management efforts in place. And in many cases, there is more that we can be doing, even in our own home.

One of the biggest risks for people with autism is wandering, whether they’re at home or they’re away from home. I’ve experienced this with my own son over the years, and wish that I’d had more knowledge of the things I could have done to prepare for such a situation before it occurred. I still would have panicked all the times it happened, but at least I would have had more of a plan in place. The following are some tips to manage wandering and also address in-home safety issues:

  • Secure the home. As I discovered, resourceful autistic preschoolers can quickly move a chair over to doors with locks strategically placed “out of their reach.” Thus, I learned to keep all chairs away from the vicinity of the door, and to move the locks to the very top of the door. Dennis also recommends that when you have to put extra locks on your exterior doors to make sure to upgrade your smoke and carbon monoxide alarms. Put a bell or alarm system on the doors, or – ideally – have a professional locksmith or burglar alarm company install a system. Use technology to your advantage. Have stickers put on all windows near exterior doors alerting first responders that there is an individual with autism in the house. (See ASA’s Safe & Sound program for stickers and more tips.)
  • Use social stories, books, or videos to teach ASD children about safety issues and being able to respond to police and emergency services personnel. This will be most helpful in situations when you (the parent) might be incapacitated, such as a car accident, or in a fire, so that your child will not hide or run from rescuers.
  • Of course, secure poisonous chemicals, cleaners, matches and lighters, tools, knives, and weapons in locked cabinets. Make sure the ASD individual does not have access to the key!
  • Ask your local 911 call center to “red flag” information about your child in their database before you need to call them in an emergency. That way, if and when you call during an emergency, the 911 dispatcher can alert the first responders with the information before they arrive. Providing them with this information before an incident occurs will yield better responses.
  • Prepare an Autism Emergency Information Form and make copies to keep on the refrigerator, near the phone, in your purse and the glove box of your car, and to give to other family members, teachers, friends, trusted neighbors, and caregivers.
  • Consider ID options. Even verbal individuals may have difficulty expressing themselves in stressful situations and would benefit from some type of identification. Options include a MedicAlert bracelet or necklace, a shoe tag, laminated cards sewn into jackets or on belt loops or zipper pulls, and non-permanent tattoos that bear ID information (tattooswithapurpose.com).
  • Check if there is a Project Lifesaver program near you.  If not, use a personal GPS tracking device, such as those featured at Brickhouse Security (be sure to scroll down to read the FAQs). Again, use technology to your advantage: LoJack SafetyNet features a tracking bracelet that utilizes radio frequency technology and has a 6-month battery life.
  • Keep a record that notes all the safety precautions you make. You may need to prove to authorities that you are not a neglectful parent, especially if your child is a wanderer. Some will assume that this is because the child is unsupervised for long periods of time and will tell you that you need to “keep an eye on” your child or “teach them not to wander off.” We parents of ASD children are some of the most vigilant parents around, but those who don’t know us (or our children) tend to make assumptions, and unfortunately we hear those types of comments all too often.

In the next post, I’ll discuss what I learned from the seminar about what you can do in your community to help manage risk and keep your child safe.

Autism Safety & Risk Management, Part 1

Ever heard of Dennis Debbaubt? If so, you probably appreciate him as much as I do. If you haven’t heard of him yet, you need to become familiar with him. And you’ll be glad you did.

Dennis Debbaubt, parent of a young man with autism, has a background in investigative journalism and, as a professional investigator and law enforcement trainer, he has written or co-written over 30 articles and books since 1993, including Autism, Advocates and Law Enforcement Professionals: Recognizing and Reducing Risk Situations for People with Autism Spectrum Disorders. Dennis has also created several training videos which have been viewed by hundreds of law enforcement and emergency services agencies throughout North America and the United Kingdom.

Dennis spends his time traveling and presenting seminars on Autism Risk and Safety. He uses a multi-media approach to train law enforcement, first responders, and emergency services personnel about autism and how it affects individuals they might come in contact with in the field. He teaches them about the sensory issues commonly associated with autism, fearfulness and communication issues that can drastically impact how a first responder can help an autistic individual, and what to do in various situations involving children and adults with autism. In addition to training law enforcement personnel and first responders, Dennis also presents seminars for parents, care providers, and educators, discussing many helpful safety tips in the home, at school, and in the community, and how to develop partnerships with law enforcement agencies and emergency services. Dennis promotes autism awareness and understanding in an area that is of the utmost importance – our children’s safety.

Recently, I was fortunate enough to attend one of Dennis Debbaubt’s Autism Risk & Safety seminars. I came home with pages of notes and helpful materials that I couldn’t wait to share with all of you. More importantly, I came home with the knowledge that we parents have the most influence in how safe our children are – and how proactive we are in our risk management. We parents don’t have all the answers about autism. But you have more answers than anybody else about your child. No one knows more about your child than you do, so share that knowledge with those that need to know. Dennis Debbaubt’s message is to be proactive – don’t leave it up to anyone else. We have to do this for the safety of our children, no matter how old they are.

Over the next week, I’ll be posting segments from the seminar about what you can do at home for autism safety and risk prevention, what you can do in your community, and provide a list of essential resources. Check back soon for my next post on things you can do at home and school to protect your child with autism. We cannot eliminate risk, but we can manage it.

End of an Era

With the school year ending, it’s time for me to hang up one of my hats – for good. For the past year and a half, I have been homeschooling Nigel, and in September he will attend the high school for a full day, so I will no longer be his academic teacher. When he started back at the middle school in March, it was only part-time, so I continued to homeschool him for language arts and social science. He made some amazing progress in those areas, writing a total of five essays, including a comparative analysis of Ancient Greek and Roman cultures. His case manager at the middle school was so impressed that she took a copy of that essay to give to his future teachers at the high school. I’ll have to make sure they realize how much of an effort it was for him to complete that; it took him weeks to write it. They need to be aware of that before they expect him to produce more work – or at a faster pace – than he is capable of doing.

At any rate, come September my academic responsibility will be limited to helping him with assignments and encouraging his organizational skills. I will no longer be designing his curriculum, preparing lesson plans, or teaching the material. It was doable in middle school, even though it took me a while to get used to the idea, but I don’t think I could do it for high school. I mean, I consider myself to be fairly intelligent, but there’s a lot of high school knowledge that I would need to relearn in order to teach it to my son. It would take quite a bit of effort and time, and as a single parent of two, I’m in short supply of those items. I also had to radically reduce my work hours so that I could homeschool Nigel for the amount of time that I did; as a result, my bank account is in sorry shape. So continuing to homeschool is really not an option, and I’m glad that Nigel no longer needs it. We’re both looking forward to his return to full-time regular school, for many reasons.

But there’s something else that happens at the end of every school year, and has for the past eight years: Nigel and Aidan go visit their dad in Los Angeles for several weeks. LA is nearly 700 miles away from us; it’s a long drive. And another world away. They get a taste of big-city life, get to bodysurf on warm beaches, and Nigel gets to go to the day camp for autistic kids. These are all things they get to do that they can’t do at home in southern Oregon, and I am glad that they have the opportunity.  I’m also glad they get to spend time with their dad, whom they miss so much during the school year. But I miss them while they’re gone every summer. It’s just consuming, this missing. It’s not like when they’re gone for a week at Spring Break. One week is nothing. But seven, eight, is a daunting expanse that cannot be filled. Maybe I’m being melodramatic – I mean, after all, we go through this every year. But it never gets easier. I walk down the hall and see their empty rooms. I can’t watch a movie or eat ice cream without thinking of them and missing them. True, I’m keeping busy, especially since I’m back at work full-time, thanks to my wonderful employers. Life is full and good, but there’s this void with the boys gone. It doesn’t feel natural. I feel disjointed without them. And I’ve got a long summer ahead of me.

Since it’s impossible for me to go more than a month without seeing them, I’ll be visiting them next month, so that will break up the time, make it a little more bearable. For a while now, Nigel’s been requesting to go to the Grand Canyon, so three weeks from today, that’s what we’ll be doing. I can’t wait to share another adventure with them, but mostly I can’t wait to see them, hug them, to be in their presence. Of course, until then, I have phone calls to look forward to: “Hello, Mom. This is Nigel [insert last name] speaking.” Or perhaps a conversation like this one. Oh, well. I’m just happy to hear their voices.

So summer begins. And it just dawned on me that I’ve essentially combined two separate posts here – the end of homeschooling and missing my kids. Correlation? Nada. Let that be a testament to how disjointed I feel with my sons being away! I can’t even write!