Sunday, October 26, 2014


Recently Ed complimented me in a way that totally surprised me by telling me how brave he thinks I am. At first, I thought he was teasing me, as he often likes to do, but he sincerely assured me that he was completely serious. Because I see myself as quite cowardly, this comment took me off guard. I think of myself as the little kindergarten girl who for a month clutched a map my mom had made of the route between home and school, terrified that I would get lost. Driving on highways makes me terribly nervous, and the thought of driving out of town makes me sick to my stomach. Before any new situation, I repeatedly mentally rehearse what I will say and do, for fear of making a fool of myself. If he thinks I’m brave, I must put on a good fa├žade.

This week, we had to take Alex for a physical examination to gain medical clearance for his upcoming oral surgery to remove his twelve-year molars and wisdom teeth under general anesthesia. Because his regular family doctor is now only available limited hours, I decided to take him to another doctor. After rehearsing this scenario in my mind several times, we took Alex to the new physician on Friday. We were quite impressed with the doctor, her staff, and her office, and we were pleased we didn’t have to wait long. However, Alex decided he was not happy to be there and made his displeasure known. First, he waved “the claw,” his right wrist bent at a ninety-degree angle and waved up and down in a dismissive gesture while making a face as though he’d been sucking lemons. Then he decided to stomp his foot on the step of the examination table to get our attention as the doctor and I went over his medical history. Realizing we were ignoring his hand waving and foot stomping, he escalated to swinging his hands and feet. He would not be ignored.

Thankfully, Ed was there to handle Alex, who was acting more like a two-year-old than a twenty-two-year-old, distracting him and trying to keep him calm so that I could convey information to the doctor. Finally, as Alex became more agitated, I apologized to the kind and understanding doctor and asked her to give us about five minutes alone to settle down Alex. Once she left the room, Ed and I went into teamwork mode, with Ed cajoling and coaxing while I instructed him to use the calm down skills he has learned in therapy. With his requested reward of going to Pet Supplies Plus hanging in the balance and a few minutes of reassurance that we were almost done, Alex pulled himself together and was able to complete the physical exam without further incident. However, we knew that we had another step ahead of us before he could receive medical clearance: tests.

Knowing that Alex is much more pleasant in the evening, we decided to take him for his tests after he’d eaten dinner and had his beloved nightly bath. Fortunately, the lab where we needed to take him has evening hours, so we knew this was probably the best scenario to get the testing done. On Friday evening, we discovered that Alex was the only patient, which was ideal because he didn’t have to wait. As usual, he handled the blood draw beautifully, never even flinching and watching in fascination as his blood was drawn into test tubes. The friendly lab technician even commented that he was “a perfect patient.” After that, he needed to have an EKG and chest x-rays, something he had never done before. Uncertain as to how he would do with having to be very still, we were a little nervous about how long these tests could take. However, the x-ray technician was wonderful with him and able to get him to cooperate fully so that the tests went very smoothly. Moreover, Alex apparently had a great time and found the tests interesting. Not only were we pleased with the outstanding and efficient staff at the lab, but we were also delighted that Alex had been so pleasant and cooperative. After dealing with Mr. Hyde at the doctor’s appointment, we were thankful to take Dr. Jekyll to the lab.

Even though we weren’t happy with Alex’s behavior at the doctor and were a little apprehensive about how he would react to the tests, we weren’t afraid. I think we have been through enough difficult situations with him to know that somehow we pull together and pull through to get things done. Ed and I each know our roles in those circumstances: he handles Alex while I handle the paperwork and medical staff, each of us playing to our strengths. Most of all, we support each other so that we can help Alex be healthy, happy, and safe. Part of this fearlessness comes from the faith we have learned in the tough times; we know that God has always seen us through every situation. In fact, one of the things I like best about the facility where we took Alex for the doctor’s appointment and lab tests is that because of its affiliation with the Catholic church, the abundance of Bibles and religious symbols reminded us of God’s presence.

Moreover, as I watched Ed calmly interacting with Alex, especially when Alex was agitated, I realized that his fearlessness has inspired me to be brave. Whether it’s because he grew up in New York City or because he has a few years of life experience on me or because he just doesn’t naturally fret the way I do, I can attribute any bravery I have to what I’ve learned from living with Ed. Today we celebrate Ed’s birthday, and every day I thank God that he is Alex’s dad. I’m sure our life is not what he imagined when he thought of what fatherhood would be like, but being an autism dad has made him rise to the occasion, to be braver and stronger and more patient and more compassionate. Because of his quiet strength and unconditional love, Alex and I are blessed, and the three of us make quite a team, pressing forward fearlessly, ready for the next adventure.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

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