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Ricky

Meet Ricky the newest member of the gang. He’s made an appearance before when he started burying his nuts in the lawn over winter. But now he has started coming for his lunch. Happily feasting next to the birds. He (or she) will be a welcome friendly face going forward.

We are just over a week from the start of the summer holidays. Six weeks of immersing myself in our son’s world. It truly is a privilege. A wonderful mind trip. Happy parent.

I bumped into a parent from his current school. They have the holiday mapped out. Immediately they break up they are going to a music festival for the first weekend. Then the kid is going on a football course for the first week. Then they fly out for a two week beach holiday in a popular Spanish resort. They come back and then the kid is off camping with the scouts. A couple of trips to fun parks and family barbecues are then followed by a family week in Paris Disney.

Asperger/Autism summer holidays can be very different to this. Ours is. For a start we are limited by finances. Our summer holidays are long periods of house lockdowns briefly punctuated with carefully selected trips to places without crowds. This means early day trips to places like Zoos – trying to cram as much in as soon the venue opens and leaving as soon as the crowds start to build. For his favourite zoo that means arriving at 9am and probably leaving around 10.30am. Trips to the cinema will be to the 8.30am screenings. Locations will be carefully planned so that he feels comfortable there. Walks will be in very remote and largely unvisited areas.

A trip to Switzerland would have been an option (he is comfortable there and the journey is familiar having done it a few times) but we just can’t afford it. Plus he is more comfortable going during quieter periods – April/October. And we haven’t tried it since his mum left us – will it ever feel the same.

So our summer holidays will be quiet and largely cut off from the outside world. That would worry me in the past. The real danger of becoming increasingly introverted over those weeks and losing any social confidence which I had struggled to build up. This year it doesn’t really bother me. Yes I might become more introverted but its not as if I have a full social diary. Introversion and isolation is the new me. I can focus on our son and see what adventures we can weave – I’m sure Ricky will play some part as well.

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Oh come on…

Stood watching the sunset. Two thoughts crossed my mind.

One… what a stunning sunset. Developed without warning and only lasted a few minutes. It’s the sort of sunset that would have made my partner so happy.

Two… bloody hell my fingers hurt.

You get towards the end of the school year with the once extensive school uniform reserves drained to drought levels. Down to one of each item and they have seen much better days. Sizing is probably about two sizes to small and really they are just a collections of holes held together by a few resilient fibres. Just got to make them last two more weeks. That reminds me – I had better start saving for next terms uniform replenishment. Bet that’s cheap!!!

It maybe only two weeks but you can almost see what’s left of the clothes disintegrating in the air. It’s time for drastic action. It’s time for emergency patching. Unfortunately sewing comes as naturally to me as veganism comes to Donald Trump. I am useless. Always have been, always will be. Up to two years ago that wasn’t a problem. My partner loved darning and out would come the sewing box with such glee. My mum was also an expert in the dark sewing arts. Those days have gone now.

So now it’s down to me. Houston we have a problem. So out came my partners sewing box. A result a couple of useable patches ready to go. How hard can this really be. So a fine looking needle was selected. Several different types of thread to go for. Helpfully each has a number 60, 70, 75, 80 – what the hell does that mean – is it size, age, weight, tensile strength. Let’s go for 60 as it’s black. We then start to put the thread through the needle eye. T***, f***, s***, b******, buggerations. I might as well of been trying to give a cheesed off Honey Badger a haircut. One hour it took me, one hour of my life wasted on that instrument of torture.

Then I started to attach the patch to the trouser knee hole. The sodding thread falls out of the needle. So we start again. Two coffees later we have a needle and thread ready to go again. Now the needle won’t go through the patch. What is it made of – bullet proof armour. Eventually I punch through but with so much force that the needle eye has embedded into my finger. Blood everywhere. After a plaster has been applied I continue. Not once, not twice maybe six times the needle struggles to get through the patch but once through it passes through my finger skin with such ease. In the end my fingers resembles Spongebob Squarepants’s backside. Holes everywhere.

But finally the job is done. The patch is secured and doesn’t look too bad. Quite pleased with that. THEN. Oh for f*** sake, oh come on!!!!

In hindsight it might not have been a great idea to push the needle not only through the front of the trousers but then through the back of the trousers as well. Great work. Now the left trouser leg is completely sewn tight at the knee. What’s the kid supposed to do – hop to school, pirate style.

Don’t think badly of me. After I unpicked the stitching I decided to stick the patch on with superglue. Let’s hope it doesn’t rain.

So yes it’s a wonderful sunset but my fingers are so much more redder…

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 81 Comments

Odd day

It’s been an ODD day.

Work warned me that today was likely to be beyond busy. Yet I didn’t hear a thing. Finally I was stood down with nothing to do. Not good for the bank balance but at least I could go for a walk

On the walk bumped into a few people but clearly being pleasant was not high on their priorities today. An encounter with one dog walker summed it up perfectly. Her dog ran up to me and jumped up. I bent over and gave the happy little dog some attention. When the owner arrived she curtly told me not to stroke her dog and walked off. Most odd. Then.

I got to my favourite hay bale.

It’s gone… The other bales are still there and it’s not even been moved across to join them. I sadly counted them. I’m going to miss that bale. Got quite attached to it. I wonder if the farmer will think I’m odd if I ask him where it’s gone.

On the way back home I stopped off at the local village shop. Here I bumped into a dad whose boy was at our sons last school. Almost straight away he said

“I didn’t realise your son was Autistic. I only found out yesterday when it was mentioned at school. Has he just recently gone down with it”

I tried to explain that you don’t really go down with it. It’s a life long condition.

“Probably explains why he always appeared a bit odd to me”

Fighting the urge to relocate this mans head from his shoulders I did bite back just a tad. Pointing out to him that it was a bit rich coming from someone who liked to wear his designer shades even when it was raining in winter. Someone who was the only parent who objected to the school sending the kids on a educational trip to the local mosque. Someone who demanded a teacher be sacked after he told off his son for cheating repeatedly at sports day. And someone who was a monumental d*******.

Needless to say we didn’t part on great terms… an odd encounter

Son came home to tell me that his class ran late so he only got 10 minutes for lunch as a result he didn’t have any lunch. Odd how no food for 8 hours can be seen as creating a positive learning environment.

The day finished off with a viewing of the Fighting the Family movie. The story of Paige the WWE wrestling star. After it had finished our sons on the spot review was

“Paige is great. It is so sad that she had to retire at 26. The film was really good but oddly remarkably awkward in places”

Yes it’s been a very odd day.

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Roses

The rose I bought for my partner just before she left us has sprung into life. Wish she was here to see it.

I finally shamed myself into sorting out the garden jungle. Maybe not immaculate but certainly almost passable. Suddenly we have flowers and roses. I had forgotten how many roses we bought before the world changed.

I remember the day we finally got our son’s medical diagnosis signed off. It was a bit of a journey to the Hospital so we stopped off at a garden centre for something to eat. They had an offer on roses and I bought one – think it was the deep red one.

We didn’t know for sure that we would get things signed off. Had so many false dawns. The diagnosis journey had been a nightmare and beyond frustrating. Finally we were lucky and came across a really good Consultant.

He added to our son’s medical record official confirmation of Aspergers, ADHD and DCD. When I asked what the hell DCD was the Consultant smiled and said something like this

“Its the new fad abbreviation and current hip term for Dyspraxia. If it’s OK I’ve used Aspergers rather than Autistic Spectrum. We are supposed to stop using the term Aspergers but not on my watch. I suspect it will always stay as Aspergers on his medical record. If it does change it really won’t have any impact. It’s just Semantics. He is also Dyslexic. In the old days I would have added that to his medical record today but I am not allowed to now. The diagnosis has to come from Education now. Unfortunately that is like getting blood from a stone. It’s a disgrace”

He explained that you can get Dyspraxia on its own but normally it normally coexists with other conditions. Frequently with Aspergers and Dyslexia.

Today he is sometimes listed as having Aspergers and sometimes Autism. Sometimes he has DCD sometimes he has Dyspraxia. At least we have agreement on the wording for ADHD. Whatever the terminology the various strands interlink and makeup who our son is.

Six years later and we are still fighting Education on the Dyslexia diagnosis. That is the one strand which we see as a limiting factor. It holds him back. The good Consultant has retired and our fight goes on.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 111 Comments

It’s a fight

Life is a permanent fight for survival. That applies to plants. It applies to humans. It applies to me. It probably applies to you.

For me it’s a fight on many fronts

  • Depression
  • Grief
  • Isolation
  • School
  • Government
  • Health Providers
  • Finances
  • Stereotyping
  • Body
  • Tiredness
  • Workload
  • With myself

It’s never ending. As much as you try you can never apparently win. Often your best hope is to just keep in the game. Survive another day.

But the key is to try and talk. Sometimes that is easier said that done. It is so easy for someone to get lost. Cut adrift from society. Friends drop off the radar. Those you love and depend upon are taken from you. That’s when talking becomes a rarity. A quick chat with the postman the closest you get to outside world discourse. It just isn’t enough.

But thankfully we have another weapon available to us. Blogging…. It opens up a new way to talk. To listen. To seek solace. To meet new friends. To feel connected again. To weep. To get angry. To think. Maybe even to laugh.

It’s not for everyone. You sometimes hear the criticism. You may get the occasional critical email.

So to those who accuse some of us of just being attention seekers. Wallowing in our own self importance. Inflating our egos. Maybe you are right, maybe your wrong. But frankly I don’t give a fig. I have more important fights to pursue and for me blogging is now a vital part of my defence system. It helps to prevent me veering towards some very dark places.

Yes it’s a fight but a fight better shared.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 102 Comments

Parent worries

Something has been nagging at me all day. Just can’t get it out of my head. Even the two cows couldn’t shake the feeling.

I picked son up early yesterday from school. We had a doctors appointment before we set off for Manchester Arena. As we walked out of school we passed his class walking in the other direction. Half of the class completely blanked our son even though he said ‘Hi’ a few times to them. But that might have just been me my presence – that’s what I am trying to convince myself.

The bigger worry is that a few of the kids did speak to him. One kid asked if he was going home. When our son said yes the kid replied with a really sarky comment. Then as we walked on I heard a couple of other rather unpleasant comments directed at our son from some of the other kids. These were also greeted with much laughter. I really hope our son never picked up on these. Luckily I think he did miss the meaning.

I realise school is a bear pit some days. But…

I had hoped he was slowly starting to fit in. Maybe I was deluding myself. That thought feels like a dagger to the heart. Yes it could just be just normal playground antics which have been going on for years. I remember as a kid getting the ‘specky four eyes’ comments. Many of the other kids got far worse. But it is a worry. Pointless speaking to school as they say he is fitting in well with a number of friends. The school does seem to count friends as anyone who sits next to our son in a lesson – regardless of whether a teacher has instructed that child to sit next to him or not.

Just going to have to try and make this weekend even more fun for him.

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Says it all really

Had to complete another report today about our son. It’s amazing given the number of reports we have had to do that they don’t ever seem to get any easier to write. Maybe it’s just me. Anyway today’s report featured some interesting questions

When did you first realise your son or daughter may have autism?

That’s an interesting question as I don’t think we ever had that one eureka moment when we suddenly realised he was on the spectrum. It was more of a drip feed type of realisation. If we are looking for one point then maybe when he was 5 and the first medical professional said that we should start the process of getting an official Aspergers diagnosis. One confusion – when we started the process Aspergers and Autism were listed as separate life long conditions. Now most agencies have dropped the term Aspergers. Son quite likes the idea of having a condition which doesn’t officially exist anymore.

What initial behavioural signs led to your belief that your son or daughter had autism?

Strangely we didn’t have a checklist of symptoms to work from back then. We didn’t have a clue on what we were supposed to look out for. It’s only when you look back that you see the clues. In our case we had several apparently independent clue strands that we should have brought together and bagged under a heading ‘potential Aspergers’.

  • Repeatedly lining toys like cars and animals up in perfectly straight lines
  • Initial slow development of speech
  • But when speech started a sudden extensive vocabulary developed but with underlying problems with pronunciation
  • Flapping hands when excited or laughing
  • Not able to sit still
  • Fixation on specific objects or toys
  • Delayed walking and crawling
  • Excessive clumsiness – that might be my genes….
  • Refusal to wear socks and shorts

But what confused things was that up to the age of 4 he had no problems with making eye contact. Plus he had many many friends. He loved playing in groups. He did have sensory issues relating to his hearing but they were being examined as a specific ear issue. He has never shown any sign of a lack of empathy.

It was only from the age of 5 that his symptoms seemed to heighten and suddenly combined with becoming completely withdrawn from the rest of the class. Rather than being in the thick of play he would stand completely by himself. Additionally his specific ear issues were ruled out and the focus moved to looking at sensory overload. Yes he started to fall behind at school but that was probably the initial impact of dyslexia.

How well do you feel the education service has supported your son or daughter?

They only left 3 lines to answer this question. I asked our son and he said that 3 lines is more than enough to write ‘PANTS‘. So that is exactly what I wrote. I suspect I might go back to this and elaborate a little more but part of me hopes that I stick with the original response. Says it all really.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 43 Comments

Waiting

Apparently a heatwave is about to hit Western Europe. I’m not sure the required paperwork and clearances have been signed off for Yorkshire yet. As a result it’s gone back to cold, cloudy and very wet. Here this is called proper weather.

Anyway let’s see if the much vaunted hot stuff arrives. Knowing our luck it could be a long wait. But we are accustomed to waiting for things.

  • Snow at Christmas … 10 years
  • My so called football team winning a domestic trophy … 64 years
  • A U.K. Van Halen Tour … 35 years
  • Last Total Solar Eclipse in Yorkshire … 92 years, next U.K. one 2090

We can add to these the following waits.

  • Bereavement counselling for son … over 2 years and counting
  • Waiting to have son’s dyslexia initially assessed by an Education Psychologist … over 3 years
  • Aspergers Review and Assessment … 2 years
  • Dedicated Aspergers Therapy … 1 year
  • Anxiety Therapy … 6 months
  • Speech Therapy … 4 years
  • Paediatrician Assessment … 1 year
  • Parent Training on Autism … Never going to happen So far 5 years

You get the picture. Nothing comes easy. As a parent. As an Autism Parent. As a Aspie Parent. You have to push for the support your kid needs. Constantly chasing up contacts. Everyday seems like a new or recurring battle. Letter after letter. Chasing up phone calls. That’s something which isn’t mentioned when you start your new life journey. You sort of assume that the professional help will be there when you need it. You quickly find out that the professional help is withheld or is delivered at times to suit the system rather than the child.

What the system doesn’t seem to appreciate is that you get such a short window of time to foster real progress. As one psychologist said

Up to about 14 years is the development sweet spot. That’s when the real, long lasting progress is usually made. That’s when you have a chance to start closing the educational gap. After that it becomes increasingly difficult. If it’s left too long then its probably just about trying to stop the educational gap widening too quickly.

The frustration that causes you. It’s hard to explain that feeling. Maybe constantly walking in treacle. Every step forward is such an effort and yet you are so far away from your destination. But the fight has to be fought. As long as our son wants me to keep pushing then I will keep pushing. That’s what parents do.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 105 Comments

Moody

It’s been one of those days. Lack of sleep, work piling up, house falling to bits, nothing seeming to go to plan. Mood level – somewhere between not great and moody. This photograph sorta sums it up.

Well Son went to school for the first time since he had his accident at school last week. He was still in a lot of pain but we decided to give it a go. Dosed up on child painkillers he was dropped off. School given clear instructions to contact me immediately if he was struggling with the pain and I would pick him up.

No phone call came from school so I assumed things went ok. If only.

Apparently during his first lesson the pain started to get worse. At the end of the lesson the class teacher noticed he was struggling and he was told to get his bag and go to reception. Reception then sent him to see a senior teacher – a teacher who has had no contact with our son previously. Son told him the circumstances, that he was struggling with pain and the instructions I had given school. The teacher went onto the computer and after a few seconds said something like

“You have had a lot of time off. Your attendance record is too poor for you to be sent home. Go to reception get some painkillers and then go to your next lesson.”

So he stayed in school, in pain and in his words not able to concentrate on any of his lesson.

Mood level now – pissed off.

Yes his attendance record has dropped below 95% – a Government target. Yet that’s because he has had two accidents AT SCHOOL which have required hospital intervention and medically approved time off. Take those out and his record is just about 100%.

So it appears that if attendance drops below 95% then regardless of pain level or illness, a child will not be sent home. However a child with an attendance over 95% would be sent home. Apparently today a girl fell over and hurt her knee. She was in tears and clearly in a lot of pain but was not sent home due to her attendance record. Yet a boy who had a sore throat was sent home because they had a good attendance record.

Mood level now – Apoplectic.

So tomorrow I will drop off son and then demand to see the Headteacher. The only reason I’m not doing it now is that son wants me to calm down as he doesn’t trust me at the moment. That is probably a really good call.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 119 Comments

Tell me why

In my voice – Tell me why

  • My partner was taken from us when she was so young.
  • The system continually fails our son.
  • The Government can find billions to bribe other parties to keep it in power but can’t find the money to fund education support for the kids who need it.
  • I don’t sleep anymore.
  • They say the world is getting smaller yet I feel so isolated.
  • Chocolate has so many blooming calories.
  • Hair doesn’t like growing on my head yet it sprouts like an Amazonian Forest on the back of the my hands.
  • The cat continually finds a way into the wardrobe.
  • I can’t find any socks in this house.
  • They never made a Captain Scarlet movie.

In our son’s voice – Tell me why

  • My mum had to die.
  • Both my grannies had to die.
  • My hamster had to die.
  • My girl cat who was like a sister to me had to die.
  • I can’t read.
  • Some people think I am stupid just because I am autistic and dyslexic.
  • Shops have to be so busy.
  • Hazard is leaving Chelsea.
  • Do people have to kiss in films.
  • Marvel Movies are way better than DC Movies.
  • Most kids don’t like rock music.
  • Broccoli wasn’t deemed an inedible plant.
  • My Dad can’t cook.
  • In our dogs voice – Tell me why
      • I get shouted at for pinching socks.
      I get shouted at for digging holes.
      I get shouted at for eating garden tools.
      I get shouted at for eating garden furniture,
      I get shouted at for digging up plants.
      I get shouted at for burying stuff like socks.
      I get shouted at for pulling bits of the apple tree off.
      I get shouted at for escaping.
      I get shouted at for climbing in the hedge.
      I get shouted at for eating cat poo, cow poo, sheep poo.
      I get shouted at for pinching food.
      My best friend isn’t with us anymore. I know I am a dog but she was a really cool cat.

    In our boy cats voice – Tell me why

    • My sister isn’t with us anymore.

    • My best friend, the really lovely woman has gone. I miss siting on her lap.
    • I get shouted at for missing the cat litter by several feet.
    • I get really shouted at for missing the litter by so many feet I hit the wall.
    • I get shouted at for sitting in front of the TV when a movie is on.
    • I get shouted at for sneaking into the wardrobe and getting white hairs on all the black clothes.
    • I get shouted at for falling in hot plates of food.
    • I get shouted at for always tripping people up.
    • I get shouted at for sleeping on the laptop.
    • I get shouted at for sleeping on the toaster.

    In our gerbils voice – Tell me why

    • We don’t live in a toilet roll factory.