Weather: Gray
I really, really need this to be a "before" picture. I need to know that in a year, mornings like this will be a distant memory. There is very good evidence that things will get better. We know he has leaky gut and several other medical issues, which we are treating him for and we are seeing steady improvements in language and overall happiness. But mornings like this are not a thing of the past yet.
All I know is that I am sitting at the computer bawling my eyes out and he is on the bus, with most of the blood washed off his face, blood all over his shirt and hands but it's a red shirt anyway and I wasn't about to try to change his shirt while he was using every limb and ounce of energy to beat his face into a pulp.
There was poo all over his bed when I got him up this morning so I got him to the shower which he smilingly complied with and only started head-flipping as he was getting out. He calmed down enough to eat and take his most important meds but then his sister, who is usually out the door before he gets up, left late and as soon as he heard the front door squeak, he bounced up and ran to the door, hoping for a ride. Of course it was way too early for the bus so he completely flipped out when I brought him back inside.
Since his room was covered in poo I had to wrangle him to his college sister's room, onto her bed which was piled with clean laundry. He was punching his face and kicking his legs like crazy. In a desperate attempt to protect his face and eyes from himself, I managed to use a long sock to tie his arms together and a pair of pajamas to tie his legs together but that kept coming undone and he could still hit his face with his arms so I wrapped a towel around his arms.
Then I went to his room to collapse on the floor in tears while I cleaned up poo so I could bring him in there, which is a much safer place for him and has a video camera monitor. In the two minutes he was alone, he got to the floor, got the towel off, and had completely covered his face in blood. (It would have made a great "before" photo except that it was more important to stop the bleeding.....)
I cleaned his face as best I could with the towel, then got him to his feet and back to the kitchen where I re-wrapped his arms with the neoprene tennis wrap that works a lot better and he likes. I sat at the table with his feet on my lap, waiting for the bus, and he still hit his head on the back of the padded chair, but slowly calmed down and I cleaned his face as best I could with a napkin dipped in the expensive special water that he hadn't drunk yet. I saw that he had also cut the inside of his mouth.
I thought about how it is not ideal to put your bleeding kid on the bus to school but this whole situation is less than ideal, don't you think? He has given himself bloody noses on the bus before which is why I have repeatedly requested a rider.
I thought about the book I just finished, Carly's Voice, and how in spite of Carly's miraculous development of learning to type to communicate, and a full-time staff during the day, they still had to put her in a group home for the weekends just so they could get a break. I thought about how in spite of how absolutely extraordinary this family is, Carly was molested in that group home. I thought about why I am sticking with the treatments our autism-recovery specialist is giving him, even though everything is a lot of work: Because what choice do I have? Send him back to his birthparents? Stick him in a group home, where there is a 100% chance he will be molested?
Where was my husband? He is out of town on business, but is usually not available at this time anyway. I suppose that it is time, as we have discussed before, to hire someone to come and help get him ready in the mornings. That means spending money, finding someone, and doing paperwork. Who would possibly be willing and available to come over from 7:00-8:00 every weekday morning?
Oh yes, I actually have a friend who offered. She is paralyzed from the knees down, her 18-year-old son almost died a few weeks ago from Addison's disease, she volunteers to drive a girl who lives on the other side of town, to early morning seminary 10 days every month. With everything on her plate, she WOULD do it in a heartbeat. Just thinking about her selfless offer starts the tears flowing again.
Autism = Insanity (for me)
He is on the bus. I have resources. I needed a good cry anyway.
