No.
"The following definition is from the Autism Society of America:
AUTISM is a severely incapacitating lifelong developmental disability that typically appears during the first three years of life. It occurs in approximately fifteen out of every 10,000 births and is four times more common in boys than girls. It has been found throughout the world in families of all racial, ethnic and social backgrounds. No known factors in the psychological environment of a child have been shown to cause autism.
The symptoms are caused by physical disorders of the brain. They include:
1. Disturbances in the rate of appearance of physical, social and language skills.
2. Abnormal responses to sensations. Any one or a combination of senses or responses are affected: sight, hearing, touch, pain, balance, smell, taste, and the way a child holds his body.
3. Speech and language are absent or delayed while specific thinking capabilities might be present.
4. Abnormal ways of relating to people, objects and events."
Talking with my father has always been bland. "Hi! How are you doing?" and "How is school going?" I stared, a bored contenance on my face, at the lovely set of 6 chairs, sitting in our livingroom while my brother mopped the floor. I traced the nearly invisible carvings on them with my eyes, stiffling a sigh as I listened to my father drone on. And on. And on. Then, in the backround, I hear a voice I cherish so much. A light voice, full of innocnce and youthful eagerness. My smile on my face matches the one in my heart.
"Did you ever find out anything about Nick being Autistic?" I ask.
"Oh he is. He definatly is."
I feel my heart stop, my eyes widen at the clock at on the wall. I don't see the second hand move, don't hear the clicking. My fathers words rang in my heart as the little angels voice sang in my heart. Tears come to my eyes, tears fall from my face. I feel them as if they were engraving dark, cherry lines into my cheeks. My now pale cheeks. The cheeks that he has. The same structure, the same color. I listen silently as my father explains the situation.
My brother will never get better. My innocent, devious brother, with the twinkle in his eyes and the smile upon his lips, will never be better.
I get up from the rocking chair after hanging up eventually, cursing everything. Whatever higher power there is, life. Nothing was clear from my wrath. My mother wrapped her arms around me and I felt no comfort as she held me, as she whispered false words of hope into my ear. I sobbed at the words I had just heard.
"Will he ever know love as I do?"
"No Tracey, the chance is very slim. It's doubtful as it is now that he will ever be able to live on his own."
I think of the nuclear weapons man has created. The people tortured, the lives lost. We create destruction, but we cannot even create a treatment that will help him? Why can't these people help him?? We can destroy lives, the earth that makes them possible, hope....but we cannot even do that in return.
I remember the brilliant little boy of 1 and 6 months, smiling up at me. I remember him being younger then that, and calling me mom. I was the first person he called mom.
And these people cannot even help him.
Why can't I help him?? I look at people dropping out of school, I recall friends that have done so. Quitters. Your giving up. He doesn't even have a chance and your wasting yours.
My beautiful baby boy will be made fun of in the hick town he lives in, by ignorant children and people. And he'll never understand why they do it. He'll feel the hurt. Maybe. But he'll never understand why.
Why? What kind of fucking higher power would do this?? My mother tried to tell me it is the path his spirit chose.
No. Not acceptable. No. Just no. Not ok...not ok. This isn't his fault in any way, whatsoever. Some higher power did this. Fuck them.
Why can't anyone help that little boy? Why? I don't understand why destruction is the priority. I don't understand how we can go to space but not be able to help him.
God damnit......Why him? Why?
No...this isn't ok. Not him. Please, someone tell me this is a lie.
Not my beautiful baby boy...not him....please....
I kind of just want to be held.
Look at this angel:
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AUTISM is a severely incapacitating lifelong developmental disability that typically appears during the first three years of life. It occurs in approximately fifteen out of every 10,000 births and is four times more common in boys than girls. It has been found throughout the world in families of all racial, ethnic and social backgrounds. No known factors in the psychological environment of a child have been shown to cause autism.
The symptoms are caused by physical disorders of the brain. They include:
1. Disturbances in the rate of appearance of physical, social and language skills.
2. Abnormal responses to sensations. Any one or a combination of senses or responses are affected: sight, hearing, touch, pain, balance, smell, taste, and the way a child holds his body.
3. Speech and language are absent or delayed while specific thinking capabilities might be present.
4. Abnormal ways of relating to people, objects and events."
Talking with my father has always been bland. "Hi! How are you doing?" and "How is school going?" I stared, a bored contenance on my face, at the lovely set of 6 chairs, sitting in our livingroom while my brother mopped the floor. I traced the nearly invisible carvings on them with my eyes, stiffling a sigh as I listened to my father drone on. And on. And on. Then, in the backround, I hear a voice I cherish so much. A light voice, full of innocnce and youthful eagerness. My smile on my face matches the one in my heart.
"Did you ever find out anything about Nick being Autistic?" I ask.
"Oh he is. He definatly is."
I feel my heart stop, my eyes widen at the clock at on the wall. I don't see the second hand move, don't hear the clicking. My fathers words rang in my heart as the little angels voice sang in my heart. Tears come to my eyes, tears fall from my face. I feel them as if they were engraving dark, cherry lines into my cheeks. My now pale cheeks. The cheeks that he has. The same structure, the same color. I listen silently as my father explains the situation.
My brother will never get better. My innocent, devious brother, with the twinkle in his eyes and the smile upon his lips, will never be better.
I get up from the rocking chair after hanging up eventually, cursing everything. Whatever higher power there is, life. Nothing was clear from my wrath. My mother wrapped her arms around me and I felt no comfort as she held me, as she whispered false words of hope into my ear. I sobbed at the words I had just heard.
"Will he ever know love as I do?"
"No Tracey, the chance is very slim. It's doubtful as it is now that he will ever be able to live on his own."
I think of the nuclear weapons man has created. The people tortured, the lives lost. We create destruction, but we cannot even create a treatment that will help him? Why can't these people help him?? We can destroy lives, the earth that makes them possible, hope....but we cannot even do that in return.
I remember the brilliant little boy of 1 and 6 months, smiling up at me. I remember him being younger then that, and calling me mom. I was the first person he called mom.
And these people cannot even help him.
Why can't I help him?? I look at people dropping out of school, I recall friends that have done so. Quitters. Your giving up. He doesn't even have a chance and your wasting yours.
My beautiful baby boy will be made fun of in the hick town he lives in, by ignorant children and people. And he'll never understand why they do it. He'll feel the hurt. Maybe. But he'll never understand why.
Why? What kind of fucking higher power would do this?? My mother tried to tell me it is the path his spirit chose.
No. Not acceptable. No. Just no. Not ok...not ok. This isn't his fault in any way, whatsoever. Some higher power did this. Fuck them.
Why can't anyone help that little boy? Why? I don't understand why destruction is the priority. I don't understand how we can go to space but not be able to help him.
God damnit......Why him? Why?
No...this isn't ok. Not him. Please, someone tell me this is a lie.
Not my beautiful baby boy...not him....please....
I kind of just want to be held.
Look at this angel:
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