Every cloud.....

They say truth is stranger than fiction and I know I couldn't have made up today's events. I think it's a fact of life that most children will sustain an injury that requires a trip to A&E at some point in life, but I always expected that it would be James I'd take first. He has no awareness of danger (his latest trick is to run away from us down the street when we take him out of the car in our drive) and is quite hypotonic (floppy) and so tends to trip and fall a lot. He has a high pain threshold and won't tell us when he's in pain (I can remember an incident when he was less than two when I found his toenail bleeding and hanging off when we were in a park and thinking how brave he was - this was before his formal diagnosis, and is just one of many little incidents that show me there were very subtle clues there before he "declared" his autism). But it seems that despite being the second born, Bea has found yet another "first" to outperform her older sibling - yes, she is the first of my offspring to sustain a broken bone. In fact, she's beaten me - I think my first fracture was when I was about 3, but I hope she doesn't follow in my tracks and continue to break another 10 plus bones. My last fracture was only about 6 months ago - I wish I could say I'd been running to save James from drowning or some such other heroics, but to my shame I was late on the nursery run and tripped over my own foot! Bea's story isn't particularly glamorous either - slipped on the kitchen floor, put her arms out to save her fall and broke her clavicle (collar bone). Considering it's been nearly two years since I last saw a patient, I was quite impressed with myself for identifying the cause of her screaming - even Mini Eggs wouldn't console her. My local A&E were very efficient (I did mention my training which helped bypass at least one doctor, I think) so we were out within 2 hours, having seen the orthopaedic consultant (I think I must be ageing rapidly - he looked far younger than me and I'm a long way off my consultant post!). She is currently tucked up in bed, dosed up on painkillers and looking like a princess - I've put a double duvet under her to cushion her as she's been screaming in pain all day.

It's events like this that really bring home how hard life with James really is. I think I'm a realist and know how much I do but it's so easy to get so involved in living your insular life that you forget how much you're adapting to your situation. There is no way I could have taken James with me to the hospital as he would never have coped there but equally I'd have found it impossible to leave him with anyone. Just as well it was the weekend, although my husband's plans for a morning of DIY were scuppered. Then this afternoon it's dawned on me how hard it will be to take the two of them on the nursery run - it's incredibly painful for Bea to be picked up and put in her car seat, which we need to do four times a morning. I can't ask anyone else to take James to and from nursery either, so I have had to ask my mum to come and visit to help out. Ironically, I have been exploring the possibility of getting the LEA to provide transport one day a week for James so I could go back to work - they've refused on the grounds we live too near (there's one direct bus that goes twice an hour and the times mean that Bea and the nanny would spend more time waiting for the bus/on the bus than at home). This is a rather dramatic way of getting transport though!

James was very "high" today - I am sure he could sense we were upset about Bea and the screaming didn't really help. Plus, he loves being outside and finds being stuck indoors on days like today really frustrating. When he's high he's really hard to engage with, running back and forth continually, spinning round and round, flapping and stimming and he finds it impossible to concentrate on anything. We tried most of our usual "tricks" but he wasn't having any of it. I was very glad when supper time came around as it meant bedtime (and with it a bit of peace) was round the corner. As Bea can't lift her arm, I gave her her glass of water with a straw and did the same for James. For the first time ever, he used the straw to blow through, something we worked on and gave up on last summer. So I brought out a bowl of water and washing up liquid and we spent a magical ten minutes blowing bubbles, splashing, popping, and the odd bit of drinking. So every cloud really does have a silver lining.

Locked in...

My first post and it's the first of many honest admissions. Yesterday, my son decided to make his escape into the big, wide world. Out the front door, before I'd even realised he'd gone. My heart was in my mouth (I always thought that was a cliche, but it's not - it describes that moment where you think your world has ended and life will never be the same again) and I felt sick. At the same time I was running into the street, screaming his name at the top of my voice (knowing full well this was totally futile - he doesn't answer to his name when I'm calling him on a good day....) looking like a lunatic. No, honestly, I was in my slippers, with my knitting tucked under my arm - heaven knows what the neighbours thought. I looked up and down the street, screaming like a banshee and was about to start crying when I heard a familiar "tshk, tshk, oooh aaah" sound. There he was, behind me, standing in front of the garage and stimming away as if nothing unusual had happened.



So today my husband was sent off to purchase a chain for the front door. I can't risk this happening again especially as I may not be so quick to notice his disappearance and he may wander a lot further next time. It has made me wonder what would happen if he did wander off - James is completely non verbal and has such a limited understanding of language that he'd never be able to make his way home. I also wonder whether in this day and age anyone would even bother to stop and try and help him, fearing they would be accused of abuse or worse. The irony is that this sort of attitude leaves him more vulnerable to exactly that. The media has a lot to answer for.



I often think that James is "locked in" within his autistic world, somewhere he doesn't let me visit, and now we're all going to be "locked in" together.