Crime Stoppers

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Halloween Is Great--Unless You're Us

We live our lives day by day, and most of the time, we don't really think about the extra things we deal with that most people don't.  We don't give a second thought to the fact that we can't leave a dishrag in our sink because it terrifies Tinkerbell.  It doesn't stand out as weird that when she gets upset she will cry, "Please don't put (insert random object) in the sink!"  We don't think twice about saying things like, "Hey, don't lick the dustpan!" It's not unusual for us to say something, and then give ourselves a mental slap and immediately start explaining what that expression means to our literal audience.  Those things are just normal for us, and we don't mind--at all.

However, every so often, something "gets" me, and it makes me realize just how much we live in a different world than most people.  Little things, like hearing a two year old say "Mommy sit," and patting the spot next to her.  Sitting down to a meal with family and seeing their seven year old son sit quietly and eat.  Listening to a five-year-old chat and make conversation confidently.  Spending Nana's birthday party apologizing constantly to anyone who approached Tugboat and were met with screams of rejection.  "Sorry.  He's not a people person."  Those things break my heart.

Halloween is a fun holiday, but it depresses me like Christmas does for some people.  When the twins were little, we'd watch 'Bot eagerly approach other trick or treaters with costumes that matched his.  We watched him get rebuffed because of his rude/weird conversation opening.  We watched other parents give him strange looks and pull their kids away.  Before we knew about his ASD, Halloween was a painful indicator that something "wasn't right" about our boy.

For Tinkerbell, Halloween is the equivalent of pure hell.  Face painting?  Not gonna happen.  Loud music at an event--cue the tears.  Approach a stranger's door and say something?  Not a chance.  Walking in the dark?  Yeah right.  And don't even get me started on people in masks.  The girl is terrified of our sink, for pete's sake.  That should tell you how she reacts to people in costume.  It really bothers me that she can't enjoy a simple things like our school carnival without leaving in tears. 

So, while most people are excited about putting out their scary decorations and shopping for costumes (don't even get me started), I'm dreading October 31st.  I can't wait for it to be over.

Autism HD: Why 'Bot's Doc Is A Dick

'Bot has taken Prozac since he was six years old.  It helps to manage his anxiety, reduces his "OCD" behaviors (the rigidity that kids with autism deal with), and helps him to stay emotionally regulated.  I don't believe that medicine is the answer to everything.  Nor do I think it's right for every child.  Tinkerbell will probably never need to be medicated.  However, for 'Bot, it has made all the difference in the world.  When he started taking his medicine, he went from an average of six to ten meltdowns a day to two or three a week.  He let go of a lot of obsessive routines, and he even stims less.  As he's gotten older, I've often wondered if he'll always need medicine to cope with the world.  We found out the answer to that question this week.

'Bot's medicine is on automatic refill.  So, last Friday, when he took his last pill and the pharmacy still hadn't called to say his prescription was ready, Average Joe called the pharmacy.  He was informed that 'Bot was out of refills.  We usually see the doctor every three months for a "med check," but we'd canceled our  August appointment because, frankly, we don't have $75 to go tell the doctor that everything is fine and we don't need to change anything.  As a result, his prescription wasn't renewed.

Joe asked the pharmacy to call the doctor, and then Joe called them himself.  He talked to a very bitchy secretary who informed him that Dr. Dickhead may not fill the prescription because 'Bot hadn't been there since March.  Joe informed Her Royal Bitchiness that 'Bot had indeed been there in May.  Further checking revealed that Joe was correct, she took down the pertinent information, and said she'd pass it along to the doctor.  By Monday evening, we still hadn't heard anything.

In the meantime, 'Bot was falling apart.  It started with depression.  A sobbing, moaning 'Bot unleashed a torrent of anxiety on my unsuspecting mother-in-law.  His teacher doesn't like him.  I'm going to kick him out of the house in two years if his grades don't get better.  His dad doesn't like him because 'Bot is mean.  He went on and on.  She called us up, alarmed, and had us talk to him until he calmed down.  We have no idea if he really worries about those things, or if it was just a by-product of withdrawal.

As the week went on, Joe continued to call the doctor's office every day.  The doctor NEVER CALLED BACK.  'Bot's teachers reported that he was completely unfocused.  He retreats into himself to deal with anxiety.  Stims that we haven't seen in ages made a come back.  He started chewing his shirt again, and even chewing mine during homework time.  Wednesday night saw him screaming and handflapping, which he only does in extreme distress.  He was violent at the slightest provocation.  He was irritated by his clothing and the seat belt in the car.  Those things aren't normally a problem for him.  I guess his increased emotional unbalance made it impossible for him to cope with that and sensory issues too.

And through it all, Dr. Dickhead never called.

On Thursday night, the twins and Tinkerbell spent the night with my mother-in-law.  I had an event at school that required me to stay late, so I just dropped them off at her house for the night (we live too far away for me to justify going home and then going back, and she lives close to the school).  At bedtime, 'Bot had an emotional meltdown.  He lay in bed trembling and crying.  "'Bot, what are you feeling?"  she asked.  "Are you sad?  Angry?"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN HOW I FEEL!!!"  he cried.  So, she just held him and told him that she was there for him.  He drifted off to sleep.

Joe decided that he was going to call the pediatrician.  Dr. Quack doesn't prescribe 'Bot's Prozac, but we were hoping that he would once he heard what was going on.  However, before he made that call, he tried a pharmacy at another location where we've had prescriptions filled before, on the off chance that the medicine had been called in there by mistake.  It hadn't.  However, after explaining to the pharmacist what was going on, the wonderful man looked in the computer and saw that we had a prescription on hold.  Apparently, back in May, Dr. Dickhead gave us 'Bot's prescription on paper, and he faxed it in as well.  The faxed prescription and two refills were in the system.  The pharmacist was pretty pissed that the other pharmacy hadn't bothered to tell us that.  So, FINALLY, yesterday, we were able to get 'Bot his medicine.

And now we have two months to find a new doctor.