LJ Idol 10.16 - Thunderclap
"Does he have any sensitivity to sound, or different textures he does or doesn't like to touch?"
It's a question I've been asked countless times, now, but the first time it was, was the first time I had any hint that my youngest son's outbursts over unexpected loud noises, or perceived harsh tones of voice might be indicative of an underlying relationship with Autism Spectrum Disorder.
It's been several months since then. At the end of March, he and I headed to San Francisco for a full three hour evaluation with various doctors, with the final diagnosis confirmed. He has ASD. I received the full fifteen page report in the mail last week, and reading through it was fascinating to see which of his quirks are recognised as symptoms of being on the spectrum.
As a parent, I've always talked to both of my children as if they could understand me at the adult level, never dumbing down my language the way other adults often do to children. It was as a result of this, I assumed, that my children are able to converse using a wider vocabulary than other children their age. Yet, Leo's tendency for "formal" language when speaking with adults, even going as far as saying "humans" instead of "people" was notable enough to mention in his ASD assessment report several times.
The major reason I never had any clue Leo might be autistic is that I don't really have comparative experience with other kids who are not my own, to know what "normal" is. Leo was slower to develop than his elder brother, Doyle, but Doyle was far advanced for his age, as far as I was concerned, taking an interest and learning how to read when he was only four. He finished third grade reading at seventh grade level. I knew he wasn't the kind of kid I should compare Leo with. I was more likely to compare them with my own personality as a kid, and in my mind both of my kids were more social than I ever was, so I thought that was an improvement on me. If I thought about it longer, though, I had to acknowledge that they were both more comfortable conversing with adults than kids their own age, but again, that wasn't any different than how I was as a child. It certainly wasn't something that concerned me.
Leo had acted up in kindergarten, but his teacher, Ms R, found a solution to correct his behaviour problems, namely rewarding him with borrowing Alvin and the Chipmunks DVDs when he earned enough "good behaviour days." This was something I'd brought up with his first grade teacher, Ms H, when he switched schools at the beginning of this school year, because I wanted to make sure he was able to keep up that attitude. Ms H didn't implement a similar reward system, however, and Leo's behaviour and inability to understand personal boundaries began to raise concerns, first with her, and then the special services unit within the school. It was a counsellor within that unit that first suggested I get Leo checked out by a doctor, and we were referred to a child psychiatrist, and neurologist, followed by an occupational therapist. The psychiatrist, upon meeting Leo for an hour, thought he seemed like a normal kid, until he talked to Ms H on the phone about her concerns. I believe, given her past experience working with autistic children, she found it easier to pick up on his possible ASD symptoms than anyone else had up until that point. It was that conversation that led to Leo having a more comprehensive evaluation.
Having now filled out countless forms, answered countless questions, I feel like I have a much greater understanding of what makes up an ASD diagnosis. Many of these questions and conversations has brought up reflection on both Doyle's and my own experiences. To the point that I talked with Leo's psychiatrist about his brother and myself. Doyle's current lack of social difficulties puts him in the position of not needing to be assessed, because he doesn't really need the services that Leo will benefit from having, and instead we're looking at switching schools to somewhere that he can be challenged more with his education.
As for myself, I have an appointment to be evaluated in the adult psychiatry department next week. At this point, I've hand-written four pages of examples of possible evidence of why I think I'm also autistic. I wouldn't have thought so before going through this process with Leo, because I had a very limited understanding of what autism is. And folks these days are even less likely to notice the symptoms in me as they may have in the past, because moving to the San Francisco Bay Area, and getting heavily involved in improv, has given me much better coping strategies for all my social issues from the past. Therefore, it's more my sensory input issues that convince me more than anything else. To me, those were just normal parts of who I am, until I spent more time thinking about it when answering the questions about Leo.
I'm also sensitive to some sounds. I won't throw a tantrum over loud, unexpected noises the way Leo does, but I do get super frustrated when I hear people whistling often, and sometimes have to ask them to stop because I find it annoying. Funnily enough, my mum would often complain about the same thing when I was a kid. They say there's a genetic component to ASD, so it wouldn't surprise me if she had also been affected by it. Especially after talking to my dad more about some of her social difficulties, which I hadn't been aware of. I wish I could ask her directly, but unfortunately she passed away in 2005.
It was only yesterday that I realised I have some sensory issues related to touch, also. Mainly when it comes to certain foods, and having to touch them with my hands. I knew I had an aversion to these things, like peeling oranges, cutting and handling raw meat, or de-shelling prawns, but it hadn't occurred to me that it was at least in part because I didn't like how it felt on my skin.
I don't know what I'll do if my evaluation ends up with a lack of diagnosis. I'm so convinced I am autistic now that having the diagnosis will feel like a relief. That all of my past social issues, all my struggles with depression and anxiety, they weren't my fault. They weren't my parents' fault, beyond their genetic makeup. It's just a part of who I am, the same way that it is for Leo.
If I'm not autistic like my son? Then I guess I'm just some weird, quirky lady with some unusual sensory issues, who sometimes has to hold her ears during a thunderstorm.
It's a question I've been asked countless times, now, but the first time it was, was the first time I had any hint that my youngest son's outbursts over unexpected loud noises, or perceived harsh tones of voice might be indicative of an underlying relationship with Autism Spectrum Disorder.
It's been several months since then. At the end of March, he and I headed to San Francisco for a full three hour evaluation with various doctors, with the final diagnosis confirmed. He has ASD. I received the full fifteen page report in the mail last week, and reading through it was fascinating to see which of his quirks are recognised as symptoms of being on the spectrum.
As a parent, I've always talked to both of my children as if they could understand me at the adult level, never dumbing down my language the way other adults often do to children. It was as a result of this, I assumed, that my children are able to converse using a wider vocabulary than other children their age. Yet, Leo's tendency for "formal" language when speaking with adults, even going as far as saying "humans" instead of "people" was notable enough to mention in his ASD assessment report several times.
The major reason I never had any clue Leo might be autistic is that I don't really have comparative experience with other kids who are not my own, to know what "normal" is. Leo was slower to develop than his elder brother, Doyle, but Doyle was far advanced for his age, as far as I was concerned, taking an interest and learning how to read when he was only four. He finished third grade reading at seventh grade level. I knew he wasn't the kind of kid I should compare Leo with. I was more likely to compare them with my own personality as a kid, and in my mind both of my kids were more social than I ever was, so I thought that was an improvement on me. If I thought about it longer, though, I had to acknowledge that they were both more comfortable conversing with adults than kids their own age, but again, that wasn't any different than how I was as a child. It certainly wasn't something that concerned me.
Leo had acted up in kindergarten, but his teacher, Ms R, found a solution to correct his behaviour problems, namely rewarding him with borrowing Alvin and the Chipmunks DVDs when he earned enough "good behaviour days." This was something I'd brought up with his first grade teacher, Ms H, when he switched schools at the beginning of this school year, because I wanted to make sure he was able to keep up that attitude. Ms H didn't implement a similar reward system, however, and Leo's behaviour and inability to understand personal boundaries began to raise concerns, first with her, and then the special services unit within the school. It was a counsellor within that unit that first suggested I get Leo checked out by a doctor, and we were referred to a child psychiatrist, and neurologist, followed by an occupational therapist. The psychiatrist, upon meeting Leo for an hour, thought he seemed like a normal kid, until he talked to Ms H on the phone about her concerns. I believe, given her past experience working with autistic children, she found it easier to pick up on his possible ASD symptoms than anyone else had up until that point. It was that conversation that led to Leo having a more comprehensive evaluation.
Having now filled out countless forms, answered countless questions, I feel like I have a much greater understanding of what makes up an ASD diagnosis. Many of these questions and conversations has brought up reflection on both Doyle's and my own experiences. To the point that I talked with Leo's psychiatrist about his brother and myself. Doyle's current lack of social difficulties puts him in the position of not needing to be assessed, because he doesn't really need the services that Leo will benefit from having, and instead we're looking at switching schools to somewhere that he can be challenged more with his education.
As for myself, I have an appointment to be evaluated in the adult psychiatry department next week. At this point, I've hand-written four pages of examples of possible evidence of why I think I'm also autistic. I wouldn't have thought so before going through this process with Leo, because I had a very limited understanding of what autism is. And folks these days are even less likely to notice the symptoms in me as they may have in the past, because moving to the San Francisco Bay Area, and getting heavily involved in improv, has given me much better coping strategies for all my social issues from the past. Therefore, it's more my sensory input issues that convince me more than anything else. To me, those were just normal parts of who I am, until I spent more time thinking about it when answering the questions about Leo.
I'm also sensitive to some sounds. I won't throw a tantrum over loud, unexpected noises the way Leo does, but I do get super frustrated when I hear people whistling often, and sometimes have to ask them to stop because I find it annoying. Funnily enough, my mum would often complain about the same thing when I was a kid. They say there's a genetic component to ASD, so it wouldn't surprise me if she had also been affected by it. Especially after talking to my dad more about some of her social difficulties, which I hadn't been aware of. I wish I could ask her directly, but unfortunately she passed away in 2005.
It was only yesterday that I realised I have some sensory issues related to touch, also. Mainly when it comes to certain foods, and having to touch them with my hands. I knew I had an aversion to these things, like peeling oranges, cutting and handling raw meat, or de-shelling prawns, but it hadn't occurred to me that it was at least in part because I didn't like how it felt on my skin.
I don't know what I'll do if my evaluation ends up with a lack of diagnosis. I'm so convinced I am autistic now that having the diagnosis will feel like a relief. That all of my past social issues, all my struggles with depression and anxiety, they weren't my fault. They weren't my parents' fault, beyond their genetic makeup. It's just a part of who I am, the same way that it is for Leo.
If I'm not autistic like my son? Then I guess I'm just some weird, quirky lady with some unusual sensory issues, who sometimes has to hold her ears during a thunderstorm.