Archive for the ‘Exploring Autistic Culture’ Category

an open letter about health care reform

Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009

I wrote this letter to my Representative.

To the Honorable Bob Filner:

I am writing regarding health care reform. I do not have time to read the 1000+ page proposal but I want to air my concerns over the current system in the hope that these concerns may be addressed.

I am currently covered through health insurance offered by my employer, and for that I am both fortunate and grateful. However, this health plan is a mess and I am concerned that the health care industry lobbyists are framing the debate in terms of private vs. public coverage and not in terms of how health care is actually administered to the American people.

I have an autistic son. We have gone through all the administrative processes to cover his care by a specialist who is not part of my insurance network. We have a letter from my insurance company authorizing this care. Despite this letter, we receive a rejection notice every time the specialist submits a claim. We literally spend hours resolving these rejections and it is emotionally devastating: it’s hard enough to raise an autistic son without having to constantly fight our insurance company.

Insurance companies claim that they are “controlling costs” by reviewing claims to be sure that treatment is both authorized and necessary. I agree with this sentiment, yet in practice health care insurance companies simply deny coverage and bank on the fact that many people don’t have the resources or tenacity to fight for their coverage. This is borderline criminal.

The monthly combined payment for our plan (employer + employee) is somewhere in the neighborhood of $1500, not including deductibles. Even with our son’s ongoing treatment, we pay far less into this plan than we get out of it. I understand that that is the nature of insurance, but I am concerned that our premiums and deductibles are lining the pockets of lobbyists and anti-reform pundits rather than taking care of their customers’ legitimate health care needs. It seems to me that insurance companies care more for their shareholders than their customers. Doctors are bound by the Hippocratic oath and I think insurance companies would do well to do the same.

I am flabbergasted by people who are afraid that the government is trying to step in and “make health care decisions.” In my opinion, bureaucracy is the same whether it is private or public. All large institutions, even when they are private businesses, suffer the same bureaucratic inefficiencies. Dealing with government agencies is no more or less vexing than dealing with my insurance company. Furthermore, I believe health care decisions are to be made in consultation with my doctor, and when an insurance company steps in and reviews these decisions, the insurer violates doctor/patient confidentiality.

Recently on NPR, Steve Inskeep interviewed Republican Party Chairman Michael Steele about health care reform. Mr. Steele argued that a government-run system would be plagued by inefficiency and would be a drain on resources. He compared it to Amtrak and USPS. What he failed to understand is that Amtrak and USPS offer services that are deemed socially important enough to keep running, even if they operate under a loss. That is one of the purposes of government: to step in when an unprofitable venture has a social value. I implore you and your colleagues to consider health care a venture whose social value far outweighs monetary profit and loss.

witl cop… pliy

Thursday, May 14th, 2009

Last night the boy was up to his usual tricks to postpone bedtime. He motioned toward the laptop computer (the “little computer”) and we told him no. He then proceeded to do something quite remarkable: he wrote on his wipe board.

Witl
Cop

I looked at my wife in astonishment and we corrected his spelling: Little Computer.
Then he began to write again:

Pliy

And we corrected again: Please.

We won’t make a habit of this, but we had to cave in this time because he had asked so nicely.

aged 6 3/4

Tuesday, April 21st, 2009

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything about my son. It’s difficult to think of exactly what to write about him, but I feel a sense of duty to air it out, to give a general update to family and friends and to publicize what it’s like to raise an autistic child.

He is almost 7 years old. Throughout this journey I have clung to the hope that someday he would emerge from his shell, that there is some key to unlock him from the prison cell of autism. But that hope continues to fade, especially when I see other children his age and younger. I can’t express how odd it is to see a 3 year old having a conversation with his parents. Yes, it is challenging because at that point everything is a negotiation, but at least the dialog is there. We never had that, and we still don’t. And it seems somehow inappropriate to even bring it up with friends who have children because I don’t wish to burden them with guilt for having normally-developing children.

His speech is improving, but by no means is he capable of engaging in conversation. For the most part, speech is limited to yes/no answers and basic greetings, and even those responses generally require some coaching.

His biggest joy is the computer and we’ve learned some lessons about what is appropriate. We’ve found that we can’t allow him to play arcade-style video games because his level of frustration with them will without exception result in violent tantrums. His need to finish things exists in direct opposition to arcade games that become increasingly difficult with each level and only supply a limited number of lives.

There are 3 internet sites that we have deemed appropriate for him: Starfall, Playhouse Disney, and PBS Kids. We’ve tried some educational software and he’s really taken with Reader Rabbit.

The general advice with autistic kids and computers is that autistic kids should not be allowed to play computers, or for only very limited amounts of time. Playing on computers does not promote social skills, which I fully agree with; however, for our son, the computer is the only thing that makes him want to vocalize. In a sense, the computer is for him a gateway to socialization.

As a baby, he did not coo the way that babies normally do. The vocalizations that I remember were mainly screaming when he wanted something or had melted down into a tantrum. While not socially appropriate, he has developed a strong vocabulary of computer noises, and over the past year this has blossomed into words through educational software.

So the computer has been a mixed blessing. While it can be extremely difficult to disengage him from the computer, it has helped him with math, vocabulary, and just recently, spelling.

He has become quite a counter of numbers and we have a bedtime routine in which he counts to 100 in lots of different ways while prancing in circles on his bed. He’ll count to 100 by 1s, 2s, 5s, 10s, and 25s. He sometimes gives a coy smile and says “Count to 50… by 50. 50!” Last night he started to count backwards from 100 by 5s but lost interest at around 45. He sometimes counts on his fingers, and I was recently impressed when he did so when counting by 2s and 5s. It shows me that he really understands that numbers relate to real quantities, rather than just memorizing the sequence.

He has become proficient in adding numbers and can write answers to simple math addition on a sheet of paper. In fact, his school teacher was recently impressed with his ability to do math, as it is a skill that seemed to crop up overnight. I think he had been steadily picking up arithmetic through Reader Rabbit which has several programs for counting money and solving math problems.

Reader Rabbit also has some spelling programs, and I am impressed that he can now sound out words and fill in a missing letter by the sound. At school, his teacher said he read a sentence from a book, which is pretty fantastic.

There are three areas where I wish we could improve: potty training, disengaging from the computer, and his bedtime/night routine. Yes, at almost 7 years old, he is still not fully potty trained. I think this has mostly to do with the fact that he doesn’t want to stop what he is doing to take a potty break. The result is that he will stand in front of the computer with wet, poopy pants. The worst is when he’s decided he doesn’t want to wear his pants anymore, takes them off without our knowledge, and stands around in his poop, sometimes scratching at himself and getting it everywhere. If we can catch him in the act, we can sometimes get him to go to the bathroom, but even then it’s a real battle to disengage him from the computer. While getting him to use the toilet is one issue, aim is another. Our bathrooms have a fairly nasty reek to them, of urine that has pooled under the toilet seat and around all of the nooks and crannies at the base of the toilet. I have recently become more militant about wiping everything down each day, but all it takes is a day.

Disengaging from the computer is an issue where we’ve just lacked some basic discipline. To be frank, the computer allows us to get a break, so it is easy for us to allow him to play while we do what we need to do to maintain sanity. But the price we pay is, as mentioned above, measured in dirty underwear.

The bedtime routine is another issue where we need to start enforcing some discipline. We have allowed him to rule the house at night: he won’t go to sleep unless someone is in bed with him, and he needs someone to be in the room all night or we’ll end up with an hour long screaming tantrum in the wee hours of the morning. We’ve allowed this to happen because it’s the only way we can get a halfway decent night of sleep, which we need in order to deal with him throughout the day. But after 7 years, this is getting old.

let’s not overreact here

Thursday, January 15th, 2009

A few months back, word got out that traces of prescription drugs have been widely detected in our cities’ water supplies. A new study links pollution to hormone disruption in wild animals, and possibly humans, which manifests as developmental problems in males.

According to the aforementioned article,

Wildlife and people have been exposed to more than 100,000 new chemicals in recent years, and the European Commission has admitted that 99 per cent of them are not adequately regulated. There is not even proper safety information on 85 per cent of them.

It is difficult not to link this study with the explosion of cases of autism over the last two decades, but I will not go that far as I realize that correlation is not the same as causation.

I believe that the underlying causes of autism are manyfold and consist of a genetic predisposition combined with environmental factors, and that the growth in the number of cases has much to do with our growing understanding of autism and better diagnostic procedures.

From that perspective, it is worth considering that exposure to these chemicals may be one of the environmental factors that contribute to the development of autism.

words have meaning

Tuesday, August 26th, 2008

If you have known me for any time, you will know that I cringe whenever I see the contraction “it’s” used in place of the possessive pronoun “its.” To a lesser extent, the same nails-on-chalkboard feeling is evoked when I encounter similar mistakes with their/they’re, your/you’re, and others. It’s only a matter of time before people start thinking her’s is correct, or even hi’s. But for whatever reason, the proper use of its/it’s occupies a special place in my heart. And I’ll explain why.

In geometry, I learned about asymptotes: lines that functions will never touch except at the point of infinity. I have always felt that language is a tool, much like a geometric function, and that the description of absolute truth is akin to an asymptote. Mastery of language will get you close to the asymptote, but not even the greatest of poets can quite reach it.

Difficulty with language comprehension is a major indicator of someone on the autism spectrum. I have huge problems with spoken word. I have always felt that there is a strange disconnect between my thoughts and my mouth which makes it virtually impossible to articulate my opinions and feelings by talking. Likewise, I have problems understanding others when they speak, which sometimes makes meetings at work agonizing. It takes a huge amount of brain cycles for me to process what others say, and when you start throwing in corporate business-speak, I find it tiring to the point of mental exhaustion.

However, I have always felt very comfortable with the written word since it allows me to sculpt and craft my thoughts in a way that is otherwise impossible. Sure, I don’t always get it right, but I enjoy the rules of language and the possibility that I can use it to clearly articulate my points.

And that’s where I have a problem with the misuse of it’s. Consider this sentence:

The dog’s head slowly turned on it’s massive, mangy neck.

I’m reading along, and suddenly I’m stopped dead in my tracks. I simply don’t understand what the sentence means. It could mean any of the following:

  • The dog’s head slowly turned on it is massive, mangy neck.
  • The dog’s head slowly turned on it has massive, mangy neck.
  • The dog’s head slowly turned on it was massive, mangy neck.

I have to go back, undo the rules of language, and attempt to decipher what the author meant to say. Which then puts doubt on everything else that I’ve read up until then. Not only is the flow of language completely disrupted, I don’t even know whether I can trust my comprehension anymore.

I know I’m nitpicking, that I need to just get over it. But it’s language, and there are rules, and the reason for those rules is that language means stuff. Without the rules, there is no meaning, and no understanding of one another.

Piano noodler part deux

Monday, May 19th, 2008

Almost a year ago, I posted about my son’s ability to plunk out Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the piano.

His interest in the piano had tapered off for a bit, but in the last month or so he’s come around to it again. Up until now, his only interest was Twinkle Twinkle. But now he’s figured out how to play This Old Man, Frère Jacques, Jingle Bells, and this morning he figured out most of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Oh, and London Bridge too.

Not only that, but he has also begun to harmonize. This morning, he played Twinkle Twinkle and added the 5th note of the scale below each note. I watched him playing in the key of G, and on the harmony he knew to play F# instead of F!

About a month ago I believe he was experimenting with modes of scales. He played Twinkle Twinkle in the key of C, but moved it up a note each time. So he started in Ionian, then played the tune in Dorian, Phrygian, Mixolydian, Lydian, Aeolian, and Locrian. While they all sounded strange, I think he was truly absorbing the different flavors. I say this because later I caught him doing the same thing, but instead of using the modes of C he started on the 2nd note of each scale and played it correctly: he played the tune in C major, then D major, then E major, then F# major, and so on up the keyboard. There were some keys that gave him trouble but for the most part he’s very good at finding all the sharps and flats that make the melody work in each key.

Needless to say, I’m very proud.

How much autism in you?

Thursday, May 8th, 2008

Here’s an infotainment device that gauges your position on the autism spectrum.

Last night I scored 37 (very high). I took it again today and put more thought into my responses and scored 35 (not as very high).

The autism spectrum quotient

The flip side

Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

While it’s all fine and dandy to approach autism as a facet of neurodiversity, there is an ugly side for those of us who care for the neurologically diverse. While our child is nowhere near as difficult as the one described in this article, the author captures the challenges faced by the caretakers of autistic minds.

A couple of autism-related links

Friday, February 29th, 2008

Wired has an article describing researchers who approach autism as a neural differentiation rather than a neural disorder. I agree with the approach and I hope it leads to better methods of communication and better social acceptance of those with autism spectrum disorders, or I should say autism spectrum differentiations. Read the article here.

Another interesting internet path is to Google neurodiversity. There is something of a civil rights movement brewing for those on the autism spectrum.

Black Holes and Revelations

Tuesday, January 8th, 2008

A major factor fueling my recent fanaticism of the band Muse is that I identify very strongly with the themes of their songwriting. One such theme is empowering the weak and unjustly subjugated to rise up against the overwhelming machinery that enslaves them. Or, quicker to the point, Joseph Cambell’s heroic cycle.

Empowerment is a huge issue with me. As long as I can remember, I have craved security above all other things. For the most part, a desire for security and stability is a good thing, but in large quantities destroys one’s ability to take the risks that are necessary to achieve one’s dreams. There is a balancing act here, perhaps even a dichotomy: security vs. risk. Too much on either side leads to disaster. In my case, my desire for security drains my will to achieve my dreams and leaves me disempowered.

The result is that I feel stuck in the belly of the whale, and as the wife once observed, I stay there because I want to be there. It’s safe and warm and cozy. It’s far easier to gripe about how things have turned out than to effect the change necessary to live the life I wanted.

Part of empowerment is understanding the relationship between what one wants and what actually happens in life. I believe that we go through a grieving process when we find that what we get doesn’t quite match up with what we wanted. Our dreams are an idyllic picture of the life we think will make us happy, and when things don’t live up to it, we grieve it as though it has died.

The lyrics to Muse’s Starlight sums this up far more succinctly and beautifully:

Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations

While the idea of losing our hopes to a black hole’s void might be a little unsettling, there is a sense that one’s hopes and expectations are what initially lead us to a certain path in life, and the twists and turns of that path ultimately lead to revelation about what one truly needs for happiness.

I find this sentiment to be very relevant to raising a child with special needs. I’ve had a hard time wrapping my head around the autism bomb. I didn’t have any experience with babies before my son, so I had no idea what normal development looked like. Since my son is high-functioning, all the diagnoses were inconclusive. Not autistic, but just kind of. Just enough to place some serious obstacles in his development. And just enough to trigger the normal parental guilt: was there something we missed in his early development?

Throughout all this, I have fermented some very bitter feelings about other people’s families. On the one hand, I have been jealous of others’ normal babies; on the other, I’ve felt guilty because our son is so much better off than other children who are farther along the autistic spectrum. And I have unjustly felt that people raising normal children have it so much easier than we.

Only in the last couple of months, after observing normal babies’ development, have I begun to fully realize how different my son is, and how wrong my feelings have been. There was nothing we did that caused his condition. And raising a normally developing child is no more easy or difficult than a special needs child. All families have their challenges, and raising a child with special needs only presents a different set of challenges.