You know how everyone warns you not to go crazy buying gifts at Christmas because the kids would rather play with the box than the toy? That is certainly true of preschoolers whose imaginations are bigger than their desire for a Furby. But maybe lesser well known is how much this applies to my son with autism and his insatiable love for trains.
In buying Rowen Christmas gifts, I'd fantasize about expanding him into something new and different. A scavenger hunt game, perhaps? Or maybe a magic kit or dotter art? I'd pass up the trains, feeling a twinge of guilt because I wasn't giving in to the one-way mind that autism creates. I knew he'd love them, but even at that he seems to be less mesmorized by them and just resigned to the fact that trains are his safety net rather than a true love. The imagination in autistic children can often be less attractive than the comfort of predictability. Trains go 'round and 'round.... and 'round. And 'round again. Pretty predictable.
So when my hyped-up for Christmas son opened all his gifts with a waiting look for his $3.99 magnetic steam engine, we knew we should have stuck to the plan. At least we could have gone out to a few dinners with the money we would have saved. I am not giving up on focusing him in on the other things we got him for Christmas ("hey Rowen, wanna do some dotter art?"), I am just aware of the push-back I will get.
And speaking of focus, we recently learned that Rowen has been on Strattera, a medicine used for focus, through the study at The Ohio State University we've been participating in. For 10 weeks we popped him full of pills, not knowing whether he was chewing on plastic alone, or a drug meant to increase his attention. I was shocked when they said he was on it, because we have seen little improvement in problem behaviors.
It's a very tough thing to have to think about putting your 6-year-old son on medication, let alone actually doing it. It's something we've struggled with greatly. But we've come to the point where we have to intervene with more than what we are already doing, which is a lot to say the least. Sometimes I am still at a loss when the autism monster grabs Rowen and turns him into a living, breathing, fiery dragon ready to pounce. Rowen describes it as a bad computer in his brain that takes over. He goes on a red-faced, yelling rant and then calms to an apologetic Rowen. Do we ignore? Do we punish? Do we reward good behaviors even more? How do you change these behaviors in an autistic child?
I may not be perfect at putting the puzzle together, but I do know that we are definitely missing a few pieces. Rowen's physical body seems to be crying out at times and I am just not sure how to help him. A psychiatrist looked at him the other day and the first thing he noticed was his allergic shiners (darkened under-eyes that indicate allergies). He said they were the worst of any autistic child he's seen. Paired with his constantly dilated eyes and pale ashen skin, I have so often felt like I am missing some obvious clues. He's had allergy testing with little answers to show. Even so, I am adding zinc, iron, and allergy meds to his daily regimen. Now my 6-year-old takes more pills than your grandmother does. It sucks. I wish I knew the answers, because I'd dive in head first to help Rowen. Instead I am guessing and feeling more and more dejected.
As I always say though, I won't give up. I never will. My rampage to help my child will go on and on until someone (maybe it will be me?) puts the puzzle together. I guess I'm finding first-hand why the symbol for autism is a puzzle piece. How fitting. No pun intended.
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