We waited several months for our appointment with a specialist for Casey. Somehow, in the days before the internet, my mom found a pediatric neurologist who specialized in autism. In 1992, there weren’t many doctors who had even heard of Autism. Before we went to this appointment, we strongly suspected autism, thanks to a TV show Mom saw and a book that show recommended.
It was a two hour drive. Casey always has been easy to travel with so the drive was no big deal. The waiting room was full of toys and she happily ran off to explore while I filled out paperwork. Then… The nurse called her name and all hell broke loose.
She refused to leave the toys. She kicked. She screamed. She tried to beat her head on the floor. I was due to have Rob in just a few weeks and couldn’t easily get a hold on her. The nurse told Casey she could take a toy with her and she calmed down enough to choose one. I was so embarassed (now, 28 years later, it wouldn’t faze me. ๐ ).
Casey refused to get weighed. She wouldn’t stand for her height. She turned away for a temp check. The nurse could have been a picture on the wall for all the attention Casey paid her. She was focused on the toy and that was that. Nothing else mattered.
When the doctor came in, she never looked up. He said her name. She ignored him. He got down on the floor with her. She turned her back. He reached around her to play with the toy. She moved to a corner with the toy. He asked her what color something was – anything to engage with her. Nope. Nothing. She knew he was there, but he had nothing she wanted so she didn’t care.
He asked me several questions and with each one, I knew for sure she had autism. When he asked what I thought was going on, I simply said, “Autism.” And he agreed. In all honesty, I didn’t think much about it. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t in pain. She was still my sweet little girl. I had no clue what our lives would become within the next year.
The meltdowns started in earnest. Almost every day. Nothing I could do would calm her down. Plus I had baby Robbie and toddler Mandy. Life was exhausting. I rarely thought farther in the future than the next day. She was in preschool all day with speech and OT. At that point, she had a few meltdowns at school – most were at home. (I think she held it together as long as she could and then just had to let go).
She had a few scripted sentences she used when she wanted something. Few words, except Mandy, Robbie, cookie, potty and drink, were spontaneous. She sang entire songs – always with perfect pitch… Knew her ABC’s, could count beyond 100, knew more colors than I did. But she couldn’t say Mommy when she looked at me.
Rob was 7 before he saw the neurologist officially. He went to one of Casey’s appointments. He said hi to the doctor. He said mommy when the doctor pointed to me. He sat quietly and shared his toy with the doctor. He looked out the window. But, he couldn’t answer simple questions. He had major sensory issues. He rarely talked. He liked his routine. He was completely opposite of her. He got the same diagnosis.
Fast forward to last week. I took them for their annual check up with their neurologist. Casey jumped on the scale, insisted the nurse check her height and held her arm out for BP check. While Rob wasn’t as excited as she was for all of that, he did everything they asked.
When the doctor came in, they both looked at him and said hi. They were both able to answer several of his questions on their own. Casey told him what crafts she liked to do and that we wouldn’t have a fair this year. Rob told him he went swimming and Bob is his friend. The doctor was so impressed with how well they are doing – especially with so many things changed this year! He said many of his patients were having a rough time, but I told him they have just accepted the changes. (Not always happily, but who has??? ๐ )
I thought of all of this driving home the other day. We can even stop for lunch and go shopping after their appointment. Even a few years ago, that wouldn’t have been easy to do without someone else with us. Casey did give me a scare in one store, but no meltdowns, no anxiety yelling. Just shopping for coloring books and blocks. Like a typical family.
I know some of you might be going through a terrible time right now. You may be living with things I never had to. But, please, never stop hoping and never stop believing your child will grow and change. People that knew Casey when she was in elementary school are shocked to see her now. Keep pushing. Keep believing. Keep your faith!