Sometimes a Cold is Just a Cold

To me, one of the greatest sorrows of this whole "autism spectrum" business is that it can so easily color your perspective on even the simplest things. Back in October, Isaac went through a very difficult behavioral phase. Normally a happy kid, he suddenly started lashing out at us, having tantrums--basically acting like a real pill. We were worried, but not overly so, since even typically developing kids can hit the terrible twos at three, or even later. So we figured we'd grit our teeth and get through it.

Then one night his behavior took a dramatic turn for the worse: he refused to go to bed and instead went into full-scale meltdown, thrashing around on the floor, screaming and crying and hitting everything in sight. This went on for a few terrifying, sleepless nights. We tried to imagine what it could be, with no success. He didn't seem sick, nothing particularly stressful had happened, no big changes in routine. We thought we'd give it another day, then call the doctor. But the main thing running through my mind was "Sudden, dramatic personality change? Not good."

On the third or fourth morning, I scraped myself together and went to meet with two new clients. Luckily, they also happened to be mothers of young children. I let them know that my son was ill and that I might need to answer a call on my cell phone. They asked me what was wrong, and without mentioning anything about Isaac's developmental delays, I told them about the behavior: the screaming at bedtime, the tantrums, and that this morning I noticed he was rubbing his ears quite a bit.

"Ear infection," they chimed. And, when I stared back at them completely dumfounded, one smiled warmly and asked, "Now don't you feel like the worst mother ever?" It was all I could do not to break into grateful sobs then and there.

Long story short: it wasn't some kind of horrible autistic regressive episode, it didn't mean that my sweet boy's personality was gone forever: it was Isaac's very first garden-variety nonautistic universal kid ear infection, and it, and the behavior, cleared up as soon as we started the antibiotics.

***

Yesterday morning we heard the unmistakable barky cough that always signals a trip to the emergency room and a long night ahead. But for some reason I convinced myself that, since it had been two years since Isaac's last croup, this must just be an allergic reaction to all the pollen at the park. Duh. Back to urgent care last night, where they were surprisingly ill-equipped to deal with a frightened preschooler with special needs. The doctor seemed to think that speaking very quickly and loudly while waving her stethoscope around would convince Isaac to let her examine him, but he had other ideas. And I found myself in that familiar, horrible position of having to explain for my child. And I hate that, because it always feels like such a betrayal. And it makes me resent these people who are basically just trying to do their jobs, see as many kids as quickly as they can, but who still seem so completely at a loss around my son. And I can't help but think: if with all their training they can still be so stiff and awkward around a child with special needs, what can we expect from the rest of the world?

Comments

[kristen]

Susan,
I'm with you--on all of it. I tie myself in knots over some of these same issues. Whenever we have a change or spike in GP's behavior, I wonder what's behind it. I remember one of our first OTs telling me that since GPs sensory issues were so severe, it was a safe bet to assume that all his behavior problems were rooted in sensory dysfunction of some kind. At the time, I took her words at face value. Now I'm not so sure--I think that, as you say, sometimes a cold is just a cold.

And don't even get me started on the pediatricians...

By the way, we also suffer from croup (though a little less this last winter). We tried so many different tactics, but found one of the most effective was to simply turn on the TV. When the croup hit, GP would get scared and overstimulated and on top of it he would struggle to breath. Turning on the shower (for the steam) frightened him. The hospital? really a scary place...but the TV? A distraction. He almost always was able to calm down and as he did, the breathing got better. BUT, I'm not a doctor...so, on second thought, go to the emergency room as planned.

[mcewen]

Likewise, sometimes it's difficult to see the wood for the trees! However, I would say that whilst mine seemed to be ill all the time when they were little they seem to be much more robust now.
Cheers

[jennifergg]

Ah, this is what I think...they don't have ENOUGH training. They are good with books, but with people? Not so much.

I loved this post; the dual nature of it exactly describes my dual motherhood experience, too. Because it's hardly ever "garden variety", I often forget to look at those possibilities! And when they are simply kid things, I'm still in a bit of a no-man's land until I'm sure our medical team is also seeing the normal-kid infection, or in our case, strep.

It's never easy, is it?

[kristi]

Yes, I agree with Jennifer...they simply don't have enough training. I took my son to the dr and I told the (Nurse?) that she probably wouldn't be able to take his blood pressure b/c everytime he moves, the machine clicks and starts over. She didn't listen and she looked about 12 years old but he didn't be still and she didn't get his blood pressure. She asked me , "Why won't he be still?" And I told her "He has behavioral problems and it is hard for him to be still." I just left it at that.