Around and Around and Up and Down

Yesterday I took Logan to another therapist that we found close by.  When I made the appointment, the receptionist suggested getting Logan re-evaluated.  I agreed.  It's been three years since his last evaluation.

What is the purpose of re-evaluating a child?  What can we expect from having this done for him yet again?  Besides filling out the now-familiar reams of paperwork and answering questions regarding his behavior and how he performs at school, what is the point? What can we expect at the end of it other than, "Your son is still autistic.  Surprise!"

I don't expect a different answer regarding Logan's diagnosis.  There are many autistic people who, as they mature, progress to the point where their symptoms all but disappear.  They learn to cope with the bombardment of stimuli that overwhelms them.  They begin to assimilate information at a faster rate. Then there are some that don't, who remain silent for all of their days, and who do not appear on any outward level to mature as far as learning or social skills are involved.

The fact of the matter is, what we know about autism changes all the time.  While a cure has not been discovered and may not ever be, there are better therapies for dealing with autism than existed five or ten years ago.  It's more widely understood.  And that is part of why we are taking Logan to be re-evaluated.

What was interesting to me was the way I, myself, dealt with this new visit to the doctor.  I found myself sitting on her couch as Logan played, reciting almost by rote the things that Logan does and the concerns I have about him.  I thought of the way it was three years ago when, at the age of six, we took him somewhere else.  At that time, I remember sitting more on the edge of my seat, nervous and anticipatory at the same time, thinking, this woman will help my son!  And she didn't.  She was able to test him and give us a concrete diagnosis, but beyond that, she had little to offer.  That was then.

Now I find myself proceeding with much more caution.  It's not that I'm jaded.  It's more like autism is a ferris wheel.  It's a ride, that's for sure.  I love ferris wheels.  I especially love when I'm at the top, and it stops for a minute or two, and I can see the horizon.  Autism is like that, for me.  There are times when I look at my son, and I enjoy my experience with him so much.  I can picture the years ahead and know that although there will be challenges, everything will be all right and it will work out.  Then there are times when it's still like a ferris wheel, but I'm at the bottom.  It's a never ending round of stimming, doctors visits, challenges, and waiting to get to the top again.  But that doesn't mean I want to get off the ride.  Will this new doctor give us something helpful for Logan?  A new therapy or a way to help him cope with sensory overstimulation?  I don't know.  I hope so.

I went to the Texas State Fair once.  I went with a date from high school, and I can say that I never went anywhere with that particular individual again.  We had nothing in common.  We went to ride a ferris wheel.  Not the giant one that the fair is famous for, but a smaller one.  At first the ride was enjoyable.  But then the man operating the wheel wouldn't let us off!  He let other people leave, but not us.  He put a child on the seat with us.  She sat in between us and as the ride progressed around yet again, she began to complain about feeling sick and said she needed to throw up.  We were more desperate than ever to get off that ride!  We finally were allowed to leave...after half an hour of being stuck on that wheel.

Now, had I been stuck on that wheel with, say, the person I'm married to now, or one of my best friends, then I don't think I would have minded so much.  We would have laughed about it.  We would have found things to look at and talk about.  Sometimes it's all in who you share the ride with, and I am more thankful than ever for all the friends and family that are part of mine and my son's life.