35. Rock and a Hard Place

I had been feeling confident about how I was managing Sean's autism. Even though it was always two steps ahead of me, I felt certain I'd catch up to it eventually. At the rate of Sean's improvement since his diagnosis, I just knew he would be nearly normal by the time he was a young adult. I was encouraged and impressed with his early intervention. We had time to make this happen.

Family, friends and people in general asked the same questions on a regular basis:

"What will life be like when Sean is older? Will he be able to live on his own?" 

I had no answer. How could I know? But I thought about it a lot. I thought surely he would be nearly normal one day. Excuse me, I mean, nearly "typical". Oh the lingo. Whatever.


Typ-i-cal:
adj.

• Exhibiting the qualities, traits or characteristics that identify a kind, class, group or category.

Sean was far from exhibiting typical behavior according to typical people's terms. He was not completely potty trained. He was five years old and still in a diaper which was the least of our worries. He was showing progress. Let me assure you he could sink a Cheerio with his pee stream in seconds flat. Focal points were necessary!

One morning before the bus came to pick him up for training, I put a clean diaper on him and dressed him. He began to throw a fit, pull on his diaper and scream, "BIPER"(diaper). I checked the diaper and it was fine. He kept at me to change his diaper. I changed it, checked to make sure it was on properly and he screamed, "BIPER!!!!"again. He brought me another diaper. I changed it again. He was in a total meltdown. He was stuck. I was stuck. I stopped changing his diaper but he was freaking out. This behavior continued until I put him on the bus. He was a mess. I was devastated. I hadn't seen this behavior since his "Winnie Pooh" video tape incident. It was the first time I saw true desperation. I was used to the repetitive stimming behavior but I was not used to the obsessive-compulsive type  behavior. Was it OCD? OCD is a different beast altogether. I knew that no amount of behavior modification could change it. It would take medication. It would take Prozac.

The diaper incident was a one time experience. These bouts with various vicious circles were enough to do me in but I followed along (two steps behind) trying desperately to break them. They were maddening. They were typical.