In the past few weeks, Alex has developed an aversion to
leaving the house. Since he usually loves going places, this is totally out of
character for him. However, the thought of going out has caused him to have
panic attacks, and to avert further distress, we have supported his decision to
stay home. Amateur meteorologist that he is, Alex tells us that the weather is
too cold and windy to go outside. The bitterly cold temperatures and subzero
wind chills this month prove his logic correct. However, we also know that at
some point he will need to leave the house, and we’ve wondered when he might be
willing to venture outside.
Bless his heart, he has attempted to overcome his fears of going out, even being willing to put on his shoes and coat before deciding that he just can’t go. We’ve had him buckled in the car, and even gone a few blocks before he tells he needs to go home. Clearly, he has been dealing with some internal conflict because he seems disappointed that he can’t go places he wants to go. Essentially, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Knowing that he has two appointments coming up in the next few weeks, I have wracked my brain trying to figure out someplace we could take him to get over his fears. His behavioral therapist felt that if he had a good experience of going out, Alex would be able to overcome his fears of leaving the house. Since the weather yesterday was warmer than it had been, the winds were calm, and the skies were clear, I knew we had to try one more time to get him in the car and go someplace. I decided we were going to take him to the lab to have his blood drawn before his upcoming six-month appointment with the nurse practitioner who oversees his medications.
While taking Alex for a blood draw may seem like a strange enticement to overcome his fears of leaving the house, he loves going to the lab and thinks it’s a grand adventure. The technicians there are very kind to him, and he is always cooperative for them. In our usual swift, coordinated efforts, Ed and I managed to get Alex out of the house, into the car, and to the lab without any protesting on his part. As we arrived at the lab, he didn’t seem at all anxious, and he walked quickly toward the door as if he didn’t have a care in the world. While I went to register him for the blood tests, Alex and Ed sat in the comfortable waiting room watching NBA highlights on a large screen television. Usually, checking in for tests at this lab is a simple task, and since we were the only ones there, I thought we were home free. I celebrated a little too early, though.
As I gave the information to the clerk, she began to question me about why Alex had not fasted for twelve hours. I explained to her that he has autism, and we have to do these tests when he is at his best, so we never do the twelve-hour fast. She wanted to push the point, and I more forcefully explained that his doctors understand why we do the tests without fasting and are fine with that. Then she was insistent that he could not do the test for one of his medications because he hadn’t waited twelve hours. Again, I explained that we always do the tests this way. Unconvinced, she told me she needed to call the lab technician to check if that was a problem. I told her that I could speak to the technician myself because I knew this was not a problem. Nonetheless, she called the technician who said it would be okay, just as I had told her.
While speaking with her, I realized the transitions I had made in my tone and attitude in the few minutes I was there. Although I had started with my usual pleasant and polite self, I found myself using my middle school teacher voice, the one that calmly yet firmly told students, “Do NOT put that pen in the pencil sharpener!” When that didn’t seem effective, I resorted to my mother’s voice. I’m not talking about the voice I use as Alex’s mother; I mean the voice of my own mother when she is perturbed that increases in volume and sarcasm. We both learned that from the master, her mother, my grandmother, whose ring I always wear to remind me never to take guff from anyone because she never did. Finally, I channeled the voices of my husband’s New York-born sisters who get things done because they don’t let anyone push them around. With all those strong women as models in my mind, I was finally able to convince the clerk that I knew what I was doing.
After all that, I thought things would move along smoothly. However, a change in insurance companies this month seemed to be a huge deal as she tried to input the new information. After several tries, she was able to get the insurance straightened out, and then I thought we were on our way. However, she also questioned the diagnostic code on the lab orders and said that it was incorrect. As I spouted off the code number for autism and the diagnosis of medication management, suddenly, the diagnostic code seemed to be all right. In the end, I resorted to my pleasant and polite voice, thanked her for her trouble, and wished her a nice evening. Thankfully, Ed and Alex were having a more enjoyable time in the waiting room watching television, and Alex had been remarkably patient and calm in this first outing in weeks.
Fortunately, we didn’t wait long before the lab technician came to get us, and she remembered Alex from a previous time. She was friendly and kind to him, and he did a fantastic job of answering her questions, being polite, and sitting calmly and patiently as she drew five vials of blood. Remarking about what a great job he did, she praised him as "the best patient" and told him to come back and see her anytime. Of course, Ed and I were very proud of Alex and how well he handled the situation, especially since going places had been causing such anxiety for him. Moreover, we were relieved that not only had he been cooperative about going to the lab, but he also had successfully done the tests that we needed to have run on him.
While we thought the hardest part of this outing would be getting Alex to go out, we didn’t anticipate that the registration, which is usually fast and easy, would be the most difficult. As the saying goes, “All’s well that ends well,” and we are delighted that he did so well remaining calm going out and throughout the lab tests. Now we hope and pray that his routine lab tests show that he’s healthy and that this successful trip out of the house marks the end of his anxiety about going places. If Alex can go have blood drawn without any fear, surely he can conquer his worries about going out in the windy winter weather.
“For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” Isaiah 41:13
Bless his heart, he has attempted to overcome his fears of going out, even being willing to put on his shoes and coat before deciding that he just can’t go. We’ve had him buckled in the car, and even gone a few blocks before he tells he needs to go home. Clearly, he has been dealing with some internal conflict because he seems disappointed that he can’t go places he wants to go. Essentially, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Knowing that he has two appointments coming up in the next few weeks, I have wracked my brain trying to figure out someplace we could take him to get over his fears. His behavioral therapist felt that if he had a good experience of going out, Alex would be able to overcome his fears of leaving the house. Since the weather yesterday was warmer than it had been, the winds were calm, and the skies were clear, I knew we had to try one more time to get him in the car and go someplace. I decided we were going to take him to the lab to have his blood drawn before his upcoming six-month appointment with the nurse practitioner who oversees his medications.
While taking Alex for a blood draw may seem like a strange enticement to overcome his fears of leaving the house, he loves going to the lab and thinks it’s a grand adventure. The technicians there are very kind to him, and he is always cooperative for them. In our usual swift, coordinated efforts, Ed and I managed to get Alex out of the house, into the car, and to the lab without any protesting on his part. As we arrived at the lab, he didn’t seem at all anxious, and he walked quickly toward the door as if he didn’t have a care in the world. While I went to register him for the blood tests, Alex and Ed sat in the comfortable waiting room watching NBA highlights on a large screen television. Usually, checking in for tests at this lab is a simple task, and since we were the only ones there, I thought we were home free. I celebrated a little too early, though.
As I gave the information to the clerk, she began to question me about why Alex had not fasted for twelve hours. I explained to her that he has autism, and we have to do these tests when he is at his best, so we never do the twelve-hour fast. She wanted to push the point, and I more forcefully explained that his doctors understand why we do the tests without fasting and are fine with that. Then she was insistent that he could not do the test for one of his medications because he hadn’t waited twelve hours. Again, I explained that we always do the tests this way. Unconvinced, she told me she needed to call the lab technician to check if that was a problem. I told her that I could speak to the technician myself because I knew this was not a problem. Nonetheless, she called the technician who said it would be okay, just as I had told her.
While speaking with her, I realized the transitions I had made in my tone and attitude in the few minutes I was there. Although I had started with my usual pleasant and polite self, I found myself using my middle school teacher voice, the one that calmly yet firmly told students, “Do NOT put that pen in the pencil sharpener!” When that didn’t seem effective, I resorted to my mother’s voice. I’m not talking about the voice I use as Alex’s mother; I mean the voice of my own mother when she is perturbed that increases in volume and sarcasm. We both learned that from the master, her mother, my grandmother, whose ring I always wear to remind me never to take guff from anyone because she never did. Finally, I channeled the voices of my husband’s New York-born sisters who get things done because they don’t let anyone push them around. With all those strong women as models in my mind, I was finally able to convince the clerk that I knew what I was doing.
After all that, I thought things would move along smoothly. However, a change in insurance companies this month seemed to be a huge deal as she tried to input the new information. After several tries, she was able to get the insurance straightened out, and then I thought we were on our way. However, she also questioned the diagnostic code on the lab orders and said that it was incorrect. As I spouted off the code number for autism and the diagnosis of medication management, suddenly, the diagnostic code seemed to be all right. In the end, I resorted to my pleasant and polite voice, thanked her for her trouble, and wished her a nice evening. Thankfully, Ed and Alex were having a more enjoyable time in the waiting room watching television, and Alex had been remarkably patient and calm in this first outing in weeks.
Fortunately, we didn’t wait long before the lab technician came to get us, and she remembered Alex from a previous time. She was friendly and kind to him, and he did a fantastic job of answering her questions, being polite, and sitting calmly and patiently as she drew five vials of blood. Remarking about what a great job he did, she praised him as "the best patient" and told him to come back and see her anytime. Of course, Ed and I were very proud of Alex and how well he handled the situation, especially since going places had been causing such anxiety for him. Moreover, we were relieved that not only had he been cooperative about going to the lab, but he also had successfully done the tests that we needed to have run on him.
While we thought the hardest part of this outing would be getting Alex to go out, we didn’t anticipate that the registration, which is usually fast and easy, would be the most difficult. As the saying goes, “All’s well that ends well,” and we are delighted that he did so well remaining calm going out and throughout the lab tests. Now we hope and pray that his routine lab tests show that he’s healthy and that this successful trip out of the house marks the end of his anxiety about going places. If Alex can go have blood drawn without any fear, surely he can conquer his worries about going out in the windy winter weather.
“For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.” Isaiah 41:13
3 comments:
I am happy to be a help and glad everything turned out ok
I’m glad you have a choice of voices you can turn to when things get a little crazy! Way to go to Alex for taking a step toward his fear of going out, and kudos to you for refusing to back down!
Hi Babs,
I think I need a bracelet that says, "WWBD," or "What would Babs do?" ;) Thankfully, living with your Brooklyn-born brother has taught me to be more assertive, especially when I need to be! Hope you guys are doing well.
Love,
Pam
Post a Comment