Welcome to the Jungle Gym

The past several days have been like a roller coaster ride straight out of the Puyallup Fair; at the time seemed so big and scary but now, looking back, not such a big deal.


On Saturday, Oskar and I went to the park by our apartment. Last week he did AMAZING; very playful, focused, and engaging. This time felt more like a scene from the Exorcist sans the split pea soup. Oskar was on stimulation overload flying from playscape to playscape, not really playing with anything, barking at innocent by-standards and defending his territory like a rabid pit-bull. I was trying to implement the parenting strategy of praise the positive, ignore the negative, and set boundaries on the intolerable but he was beyond rational response. We were in full combat mode. With no response to verbal instruction, nothing to praise, and the inability to ignore his unsafe behavior, I had to grab my 55-lb son between his shoulder blades by the back of his shirt (a trick I learned from a child psychologist in Bend) and maneuver him like marionette through the playground all the while he's kicking, hitting, screaming at the top of his lungs, and trying to bite me. I know everyone's goal in LA is to get their 15 minutes of fame but playing the part of Mommy Dearest wasn't the way I wanted to earn my Warhol. I can say, without a doubt, there is nothing worse than the parental walk of shame as all eyes were on us like a spotlight following our dramatic exit. End scene.


Once we got to the apartment, I put Oskar to bed. It was about 6pm. He initially resisted but exhaustion had him in a choke hold and he quickly submitted. I wasn't far behind and welcomed the sweet seduction of slumber. Sunday started off with the same intensity but I used the force, Luke, combined with some Jedi mastery and taught Oskar how to resist the darkside. I must have successfully summoned my inner-Yoda because Oskar, 'badly did not behave!' the rest of the day. His new allegiance to all things good earned him a day at the beach including a hot dog on a stick with lemonade. Take that Princess Leia!


Monday, back at ABC, we had our parent meeting. The topic of discussion was a discharge aka 'graduation' date. George or more affectionately Jorge (use your best espanol accent) the intern asked me my thoughts of the program thus far and when I felt our last day should be. My thoughts are all over the place but back to his question, I replied that I felt we had achieved all we could as this was not the best setting for Oskar to learn and absorb what they are trying to teach and that we should leave at the end of his rotation. I still can't believe the program is designed for 5-10 yr olds. The maturity that's required I wouldn't expect to find in most typical 5-8 yr olds, which I've experienced first hand from driving Oskar and his classmates around in my car. I think most would laugh and perhaps cringe at times listening to a first grader's unfiltered dialogue chock full of family secrets, misinformation, and plain ol' gossip. It's every tabloid you can imagine wrapped in one but without the incriminating photos. So, even if they were describing their feelings, I wouldn't believe the majority of them. Newsflash, psychology department: kids lie. They embellish. That's their job. Finally, we agreed Wednesday (that's now past) would be Oskar's last day coinciding with Jorge's. Jorge is off to Chicago to practice...practice his ability not to listen, then tell you his conclusion which remarkably sounds like the information you had provided in the first place. Hasta la vista, baby.


Of course after we make this decision, Oskar had a rough day at ABC, so much so, he was limited to the floor through Wednesday. His bad days are volcanic; explosive with lots of emotional aftermath to clean up. Actually the aftermath is mine as I'm trying to figure out what caused the blow-up in the first place to prevent it in the future. Maybe what I should be doing is take a geologic approach - get my emergency kit in order knowing a storm is brewing. Instead of canned foods and bottled water, I should find a padded room and a straight jacket. Sadly, that's not far from the truth. Through observing the 'graduation' of other students, I've learned this program and all programs like it are just band-aids. The goal is to help kids get back on track, not to address the original derailment. They don't know how. When the eruptions become catastrophic, usually due to the catalyst of hormones (yeah, puberty!), the next step is full hospitalization where the teen is isolated from the masses, under full medical surveillance, to regulate his or her medication and/or behavior. So, in a nutshell, that's adolescent Autism. Can't wait.


On the bright side, Oskar has been great with me since our Sunday mind warp. He has also come around at ABC and displayed better behavior; using nice words, in control of his body, and accept no for an answer so he's received a get-out-of -jail-free car and is back on Boardwalk with the terrier and the top hat. We're still adjusting his meds but I still feel the addition of Risperidone has been positive. Through it all, he's acquired some positive skills. Oskar has consistently used appropriate greetings, i.e. 'hi, how are you?' instead of 'where are you going?' when he first encounters a stranger or on the elevator he's asked, 'what floor do you need?' instead of 'what button to push?' and definitely seen more eye contact during those interactions. He's also been more silly and imaginative, using pretend play to engage peers. All appropriate social skills we've been demonstrating for years. What's changed, allowing him to access those skills, is the medication.



Medication, MEDICATION! I love you. I hate you. I try to understand you but you're so complicated! You help but not without a price. You and your side effects. How you save one person, then destroy another. My confusion is shared, by the 'experts'. Even with all their schooling, each psychologist prescribes based on their best guess of how a drug typically effects most, most of the time. Unfortunately, the 'most' is based on adults, not children. With the race car metabolism of a child, drugs impact their system at a significantly faster rate than the economy car speed of most adults. That means faster results, shorter half-life BUT (and that's a big but) not a lot data on long-term effects. Is this synthetic oil good for a small engine? Only time will tell. I am constantly reassured that what we DO know of the drugs is that they are safe. I'm not sure what the dr's mean by safe but I can say, it is safer for Oskar to be medicated than not.


As of now, we're estimating graduation on July 12th. That will allow us time to see how Oskar is tolerating his new cocktail...increase in Respiradone, back on the Straterra...over the next several days. It will also finally get us to the geneticist so we can check that off our to do list.