Bacon: A cautionary tale

Almost 8 weeks ago I was in a car accident. Before you panic I'll tell you that I lived. Just in case you were worried. I don't want you to spend the whole blog thinking I hope she makes it. I just spoiled it for you. I did and you are welcome.

It was a relatively minor accident in the scheme of things but due to some ongoing issues I have been undergoing a few tests. Like a weirdo I find the humour in this experience. Now not everyone can be a true weirdo. It takes a lot of hard work and a little bit of luck. To be able to call yourself a weirdo you must first do weirdo things. Let me explain how I came to be in this category. For those of you who are regular readers I'm sure you've already bought into this premise so bare with me as I explain to our new friends. The other day I went to physio and found a jar of bacon bits in my purse. Random right? Okay, I had bought them at one of those stores that asks you if you want a bag for 5 cents. "Of course I want a bag, I have 23 items here". But oops, she forgot to charge me and I guess I failed to notice that my bill was 5 cents less than I expected. She goes on to tell me that she can ring in a bag on a new bill if I'd like. The one day that I don't even have 5 pennies in my wallet of course. I'm seriously not going to use my debit card for one 5 cent bag. The cost of the paper for a new receipt must be at least 5 cents which I'm now saving the store from having to spend by declining this offer so just give me the stupid bag and pretend that I paid for it already! There I am stuffing food in every pocket and of course my purse. Apparently I failed to notice that the bacon was still in there when I went to my appointment later in the day. Honestly how do you forget about bacon? Yes, I am very ashamed of myself okay? So try to imagine the horror as I opened my purse at the physiotherapy clinic to track down a pen and this jar of bacon bits rolls out onto the counter. How do you explain that quickly enough for them to not go for the panic button under the desk? And now I'm the crazy bacon lady. Wonderful. This is not the only weirdo thing I've done, it's just the most recent. They all have perfectly reasonable explanations. Really!! And now I am a certified weirdo. Good now we are all on the same page. Let's continue shall we.

So off for my battery of tests. First I was sent to the eye doctor to rule out of all things retinal detachment. Doesn't that sound like fun? I showed up at the clinic and began all the wonderful tests that someone with a significant phobia of things touching or being near their eyes would L-O-V-E. Did I mention I have such a phobia? The first machine we come to puffs blasts of air at your eyes. Why? Probably because it's fun to freak people out. I bet they video tape it and watch it on their coffee breaks. The woman performing the tests warns me it's coming and I swear there is a 2 minute delay as I sit and anticipate the blast of air  on to my eyeball. Just when I'm so anxious I want to vomit I feel the blast. Oh goody one eye done. Please tell me we get to do that again. We do? Fantastic!! I white knuckle it and make it through. Then she has me move to the next machine where they tell you to press the lever every time you see the squiggly lines on the screen. I sit there for what seems like an eternity. Is she kidding me? I don`t see any stupid lines already. What kind of sick joke is this? Great maybe I`m actually going blind. Nope she tells me don't worry about it. After telling me I should be seeing something she casually tells me not to worry about it. Right. Mind games I tell you!! As an added bonus I`m still nauseated from the last test so that the knots forming in my stomach have something to work with. Finally I`m given the great news. Next are eye drops!! Wow it's my lucky day. She comes at me with that little white bottle and it`s everything I have not to kick her in the shin and run out of the office. Blah. "Hold on Colleen. Get a grip. You can do this." After all your retinas could be ripped out of the place they are supposed to be and it might be good to know about it. So I hold on tight and try not to bite this lady who I`m sure in some sick way is trying to help me.

You may know these drops. They are the ones that make you look like a drugged marsupial. With my pupils as big as saucers and blind to anything closer than 5 feet away I wait for the next round of fun to begin. We are having fun right? After a retinal photograph the doctor tells me that my eyes are intact save for being a little shaken up and cloudy. Sounds like a play on a James Bond movie. "Shaken, not stirred". The mere thought of my shaken eyeballs makes me feel sooo much less queasy than before. Fabulous. Yikes. Oh and did I mention that it won't get better but the super news is that at some point I won't notice it anymore. Phew!! And here I thought I had a real problem. I know, I know my eyes could be falling apart right? It's all good.

Next is the spinal x-ray to make sure I didn't crack a vertebrae. Did they notice I'm walking around and not complaining of bones sticking out in places they shouldn't be? Maybe I should say something. Oh but wouldn't it be more fun to try to get my life time maximum of radiation with another x-ray? I show up for this procedure and am quickly guided to a room with a pile of paper towels and instructed to put one on. Of course they call them "gowns" in this clinic but we all know what they really are. Each one comes with a 6 inch ribbon of plastic which they call a "belt". Okay, I'm not that big of an idiot. This belt wouldn't fit around a newborn and they think I can wrap it around this post baby belly? Seriously? If it can't fit around the baby how do they think it will fit around something big enough to hold said baby? I decide to forgo this mockery and just hold the stylish garment shut myself. The best thing I can say about this so called gown is that it has lots of fiber. I bet that means it's good for my health. Look at me getting more fiber in my life and taking care of myself. I'm good at this. So the technician comes back and questions my failure to utilize the belt. I imagine I raised one eyebrow in some sort of "Are you intoxicated?" look. She grabs it off the bench and stretches this 6 inch thing into a reasonable facsimile of a belt. I knew that. I totally knew that!! Now I feel a little bad for looking at her funny. I blame it on the excess fibre I'm now getting. I think it's making me irritable. I wrap the belt around my waist and proceed with the x-ray.

Luckily I hadn't done any major damage to my bones so I was off for my next adventure in health care. The CT scan. If you ever need to go for a CT scan take my advise and don't Google it before hand. If you want to be freaked out then be my guest. I'm pretty sure that regardless if they detect any brain damage from the accident that they likely caused more in the process. It's probably best not to know what they will be doing to your long term health. I will say that I do not have the results of my scan yet. I am a little bit worried that they may come back and tell me that they know I'm a weirdo though. I bet they can see all the little thought bubbles and the wacky ideas that leap about inside my brain like a drunk frog. Okay, I can't say I really know what a drunk frog looks like but stay with me here.

I arrive for my test and am directed to wait in the "F" section of the hall. I was thinking I bet "F" is for fantastic. They took one look at me and knew that I belonged there. Those people are so nice to say such wonderful things about me. When I'm done my delusion I proceed along the hall until I find this area. There is only one woman in this entire section. I sit down in a chair across from her. She is wearing a leather skirt and top that barely contain the parts of her that I'm pretty sure should be contained. I didn't know this was a black tie event. Damn I'm seriously under dressed in my t-shirt and One Tooth yoga pants. I sit there self consciously for a moment until I hear a squeak. Was that a mouse? Then I notice this woman shifting in her chair. As she crosses and uncrosses her legs I can hear her leather skirt make this wretched noise like a sad little rodent. Awesome. I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to happen. I try to act like I don't notice but we are the only two people anywhere within sight. It's like trying to ignore a loud fart in an elevator. I vote to go with the crowd mentality and pretend that it didn't happen and I certainly didn't notice it either. Now I have to pretend there's a crowd here too. Great. Look away Colleen.

Finally I'm called in for my scan. Big sigh of relief. I walk into the large over sized room and have an instant flash back to the book Curious George Goes to the Hospital by Margaret and H.A. Rey. I can't explain exactly why but I love that book even to this day. This room suddenly fills me with a warm feeling from my childhood and any nervousness melts away. I assume this hospital is monkey-free so what could possibly go wrong in a room like this? The hallway had been stark and quiet except for a loud squeak that really needs to be dealt with. This room was bright blue and full of smiling staff and fancy equipment. I'm directed into position on the table and get my head strapped in. I'm moved into position inside the scanner. As I lay there waiting for the procedure to begin I see a thin glass window with a tiny sign positioned right above my head. I squint my eyes to see the words which are upside down from my position. I start reading. It says "Laser Aperture: Do not look directly into beam". Great planning. Let's draw peoples attention to the spot they aren't supposed to look at just before we fry their retinas....providing those retinas aren't already detached. Brilliant!! I start laughing.

The technician comes back with a worried look on her face and asks if everything is okay. Great, I'm really breaking out of the crazy bacon lady image I've created for myself. Super. Now I'm laughing because my eyes were almost cooked by a laser beam? That screams stable doesn't it? I thought I better write this blog before the men in white coats show up at my door in the morning. Please send me cookies and other yummy treats while I "rest" in my padded room for awhile. Please no bacon though. I already have some in my purse.

Wishes and stuff....

When I was pregnant with my son Drew about 12 years ago I tried to imagine who this little person would be. Would he have red hair like his great grandfathers on both sides? Would he have crooked toes like me? Or would he be impossibly skinny like his father? We had been told that we might not be able to have a child and were so delighted to find out I was already pregnant when they gave us that news. He seemed like a miracle. I hoped for so many things for him but knew that we had already been given so much. I couldn't have been more grateful or more unaware of the journey we have just begun.

When Andrew was born during a crazy heat wave in 1999 I fell desperately in love with this amazing kid. There was something about him that seemed so unique and wise. He never was like a baby the way most newborns are. He looked like a little old man with crazy blond hair on the sides and bald as ever up top. We called him the mad scientist. He would sit and watch the world in a way that seemed so thoughtful as if he were taking in everything that was going on. If you ask him now he'll tell you he remembers the time before he was born and there is a part of me that believes him. It was like he never missed anything.

"Colleen" you are probably saying to yourself, "All mothers think their child is special". Well my friends you are right. Most mothers do think their children are pretty amazing and they are. But I knew there was something really different about Drew right from the early days. I just didn't know quite what it was. As the years went on we had lots of laughs. That sweet boy of mine would sing the song of "E". What is that you ask? Well the song of E was a haunting tune Drew would sing as he rode in the car or when he saw a fan. We wrote it off as vocal play. Basically he liked to hear his own voice. Who wouldn't? As a toddler he would gladly wander around the yard in his diaper watering every flower until they died from drowning.

By the age of 2 I saw the first glimmers of a skill in language that just 7 years later would be almost untestably high. Andrews fascination with words, how they sounded, and what they meant kept us hopping. Now at age 11 he uses words that I sometimes have to look up in the dictionary but don't tell anybody....especially not him. You may assume that having such a gift means life would have been easy for Drew but that was not always the case. Despite having such a broad vocabulary he was unable to distinguish between his letters in Kindergarten. I, apparently being the only person on the planet who didn't go to Kindergarten had no idea even what it was all about. Take a moment to get over your disbelief. Yes, I never went to Kindergarten and look, I even turned out okay. Well sort of but the way I turned out had absolutely nothing to do with missing that year....at least I don't think it did. So I'm only guessing at what it's all about. I've heard all my friends rave about it and say they loved it and I imagine that the days are filled with blocks and crayons and snack times and magical talking unicorns....I can have unicorns if I want to. So when your sons teacher tells you not to worry that your child thinks train starts with an "s" sound and keys begins with "m" you try to go with it. After all what did I know about it? Later I would learn that Andrew has learning disabilities and with different teaching methods he's been able to minimize their impact. "Phew", that bullet dodged.

So fast forward a few years and he's still struggling so I went in search of some answers. This was not to be a quick, painless, or inexpensive process. I've had to be both the negotiator and the protective Mama bear. Eventually I came upon the answer. It was both shocking and expected at the same time. Are you on the edge of your seat? Anytime some uses the word shocking you sit up just a little more don't you? Oh what could it be?

Our family has joined a club. I know that doesn't sound overly exciting does it? There is no secret handshake or membership dues. No annual general meetings or cards with our photos on them. We certainly aren't unique because about 1 out of every 106 families is in the same club as us. That's almost 1 percent of the population and really makes us very unspecial in the scheme of things don't you think? I'm sorry if our mediocrity disappoints you. We are a part of one of the fast growing trends on the planet. I guess that makes us hip, cool, and with it. So what is the name of this popular club you ask?

Well Andrew has Autism. I'll give you a moment to digest that if you need to. I imagine hearing a few muffled gasps in the audience. For about 95 percent of those of you that know us well you probably fall into the "Holy cow you're kidding me?" group. The other 5 percent are saying "I knew he was different but Holy cow you're kidding me". Drew flies way under the radar which is why it took until 11 years old to be diagnosed with something that is usually picked up by professionals between the ages of 2 and 4. Somehow I feel compelled to tell you that Andrew is considered very high functioning. I'm not sure why that matters but I've noticed that almost everyone with a high functioning kid on the spectrum is quick to point that out. So now I have. There are even different diagnoses on the Spectrum that some how seem cooler than others. I suppose when it comes to parenting almost anything can be a competition right? It's as if we are saying my kid is far less disabled than your kid or at least other kids in general. I guess in the end it really doesn't matter. He's Andrew through and through despite letters after his name.

The degree to which Autism impacts a child varies widely. Drew does most of the things other kids do but there are areas he struggles with. Andrew's bluntness and way of perceiving the world has brought me so many laughs and insight. He does not see the world the same way and when those windows open up I love it. A classic example of this occurred a few years ago. We decided to meet up with one of his former teachers. She was really special to Drew and we thought he'd be surprised. We planned to meet her at the Zoo. He did seem surprised and happy to see her. A few days later Andrew was recounting the story to another person at the school who also knew this teacher. He told this person all about seeing Mrs. S at the Zoo but then in an exasperated tone he continues with "after we said hello she just kept following us around all day long". Obviously he missed the point completely. I love these Drew moments. I've learned you really can't assume anything with him.


Another area his challenges have become apparent are with recognizing people. Last year he routinely missed the bus because as he put it "the bus driver keeps changing his clothes everyday Mom". How can you argue with that? I'm sure he does and if all you notice about someone is their clothes it would be pretty hard to recognize them the next day when you were walking down the row of buses. If you are a fan of the show Big Bang Theory then you'll appreciate that I fully expect Andrew to grow up to be somewhat like the character Sheldon.

There is also a lot of debate about when Autism "happens" to a child. I will not wade into that debate today. I do have opinions of course. As both a mother and as someone who works in the field of child development primarily seeing preschoolers with Autism I probably couldn't avoid forming one even if I tried. However I am not here to sway any ones position. Maybe we are all right or maybe none of us are. I think it's more important to stick together on this one than to chop each others legs off just to be right. In the end I can only speak from my own experience and that is that I knew Andrew was different from the moment he was born. In my heart I don't believe Autism "happened" to Andrew, I think Andrew happened to be Autistic.

I know my life is not exactly on the "So you're having a baby" brochure of things to do and see. You expect the Gerber baby, maybe some Gymboree classes, tears on the first day of school, and eventually Law school (of course) but nobody lines up over night to buy tickets on the Autism express. No need to line up those babies are already in your pocket. What you do with them and how much you enjoy the ride is really up to you. We chose to enjoy it as much as we can.

I won't lie to you it's not all sunshine and roses. We've had tears when I suddenly said "lets go swimming kids" because it wasn't what Andrew expected to happen in his day. For the record he loves swimming but only if he knows we might go in advance. It has changed our lives but our lives didn't change the day the psychologist told me he has Autism. Rather it changed the day he was born. Autism isn't everything Andrew is. He is a person first with hopes and dreams just like any of us. But to wish that he didn't have Autism would be like wishing for another child completely unlike the one you already have. What I wish for is that his Autism won't hold him back in life. I wish that he meets with understanding and acceptance especially when I'm not there to protect him. I wish him a long and happy life filled with a high paying job to support his wonderful mother who so selflessly cared for him all these years. I wish that he always has amazingly quirky friends. There are so many things I want for Drew but I'd never wish for him to be different than he is.

I've thrown my penny into the fountain of life and I got my wish. He may be impossibly skinny with crooked toes but I couldn't love him anymore than I do. Autism, schm-autism!!