I'm So Dizzy My Head is Spinnin'

I'm feeling the urge to cry, so maybe I will do a little blogging therapy. My head is spinning. It's spinning at mach speed of a thousand different Rowens and the same amount of possibilities of a cure.

We weaned him off Strattera (an ADHD medicine) not 2 days ago and I already see the effects. We took him off because it wasn't quite the right drug for all his needs, but heck if it didn't help more than I thought it did for his hyperactivity.

I really wish it was easier than that though. Take drug=better. Don't take drug=not better. If only A+B equaled C. Where is algebra when I really need it? Forget second period 9th grade, I need it now!

A week before we started weaning the drug, Rowen stopped going to sleep at night. Boy if I didn't feel like I was human again when he'd just lay down and go to sleep every night for awhile there. What a friggin' concept. Now he lays down and days I thought were long past are back for an encore. So glad to see you again, she said with bitter sarcasm. He takes at least 2 hours to go to sleep again. How in the heck does this happen? He was fine for a few months and now we are back. Mind you, this started happening all before we weaned him from the drug.

I have to laugh at the inventories I have to fill out at the OSU study he's in. They ask me to rate Rowen on a myriad of things every time I'm there, and darned if Rowen doesn't change every second of every day to know what the heck box to check off.

Does he act as if driven by a motor? Um, do you mean last Thursday or 4:00 today? Is he more active than usual? Um, again, not sure there's a usual. In fact, darn sure there's not. Sorry, can't help you.

I've watched Rowen quite a bit today, and he absolutely cannot stand, sit, or otherwise do anything without moving, fidgeting, or plain old running into everything he can. He's been more irritable, harsh, and, well, autistic. I haven't seen him cover his ears at noise in awhile and that has come back too. His social backwardness is even more painful to watch. He says he wants to kill himself with tears in his eyes, and I know he's suffering like no child should. I look back on the past few months with nostalgia now, even though at the time it was still as difficult as it could get- or so I thought.

If you are prone to judgement, you may not want to read further, because I may have something that will set you off. I wish Rowen had some other disease. If I was really wishing of course, I'd wish him healthy. But if I had to pick, it would not be autism. It would be something we could actually take a go at. I wish he had some disease that we knew how to manage, but that's not the case. Or if it has to be autism, I wish we lived 50 years in the future when I hope there would be more answers than guesses. I want to pulverize that friggin' autism puzzle piece in the ground, soak it with lighter fluid, and watch it burn. And when the embers die down and all that's left is ash, I hope there are answers.

Someone tell me how to help my boy. Somebody. Anybody. Because I don't think anyone really knows right now. In fact, I know so. Everyone is guessing and some people are blindly hitting a mark that may hold promise, while others are still suffering. Autism sucks. It sucks, sucks, sucks.

Whew, I need something chocolate.

*Special Note: After I blogged, I went in to help Rowen who was upset he couldn't fall asleep. After he calmed down and I left he said, "Mommy, come here! I sounded out a sentence!" When I walked in, he pointed to a cross on his wall and said, "Mommy, it says 'He is Risen.'" Tears came to my eyes. Pretty darn good for a kid who's best spelling word is "like." Sounded it perfectly. He always knows when to send the right sign.