Monday, February 24, 2014
The weekend started as last weekend ended, with a seizure in the tub. We thought we were over that. Most seizures had been in the early morning, when he was safely in bed and just waking up. Hence the #2 rule in our house: Never wake a sleeping Brandon. The #1 rule being, "Never leave a door unlocked." Breaking either rule is equally serious.
Brandon recovered enough by Sunday afternoon to be able to be outside with us for a quiet weekend of gardening. He was able to be on the trampoline listening to the engine of the weed eater and mower. Two things he loves as much as his beloved trampoline. We waited until Sunday to do those things so he could be awake to enjoy them. And I hope it isn't lost on anyone who has typical children, that the highlight of my son's weekend, my twenty year old son, was listening to the engine of a weed eater and mower. Not being out with his friends. That's "Life with Autism" in our house. Trying as best we can to allow Brandon to enjoy life as he likes it. Trying to achieve those stolen moments of joy and laughter and happiness.
But today, Monday, I'm reminded of that flip side of autism. I went in his room to check on him, my sweet sleeping boy. But then I noticed the autism stuff. First, that he was shivering from no covers. Then I saw a puddle of pee on the floor and knew why he was cold. He was up I guess when I didn't hear him. I guess he was too tired to remain up until I heard him, so he went back to bed. Wet. Uncovered. Cold. With fat lip from the seizure in the tub. And always, with his straw.
Bittersweet is the word that best describes our "Life with Autism" in how it is so opposite. So many sweet scenes, accomplishments, glimpses of our son without the autism - just take my breath away. But then equal are the moments that I wish I had a magic wand to just wave away....
So there I was, changing my soaked son who was still asleep, covering him because he hasn't figured out how to do that himself; then on my hands and knees I cleaned pee off the floor. It is impossible to count the times this scene has played out in our house. That he had an accident, a seizure, that he didn't sleep, that it's 9:45am, he's sleeping, and his school started at 8:30am. That yet again I must erase appointments or "to do's" on my calendar for the day.
I sat down to scroll through my Facebook feed and drink more coffee. And saw an article where in Oregon they want to increase vaccination rates by making it mandatory for parents to attend educational sessions on the importance of vaccinations. No doubt the vaccine manufacturers are funding that. No doubt they will be in some way, teaching those classes.
And I just shake my head and wonder when it will end. The lies. The stealing of our children's health for profit.
It's not the parents who need a legislative mandate for education on the importance of vaccination. It's the legislators and policymakers who need one where they would be required to spend a 24-hour day in the home of a child who has had severe adverse vaccine reactions in the form of autism and seizures - to those vaccines they were ignorant enough to have allowed. In this day and age, it is the smart parents who don't allow vaccinations and the ignorant ones who do allow them. The legislators and policymakers making up such ridiculous mandates need to try and pick a 140-pound brick of soapy, wet, formless jello up out of the tub and on to a bed. They need to change a soaked adult in bed with no help. And they need to scrub pee, or worse, off the floor. They need to be bit, hit, pinched and punched by someone having a sensory overload because their system was fried from vaccinations and toxins. They need to be up all night and still have to function the next day. They need to stand by helplessly while that person thrashes and chokes and turns blue from a seizure.
And they need to realize that that 24-hour period goes on for a lifetime for the person, and parent, who must live a chronic life of adverse vaccine reaction.
For Brandon, it's gone on 18 years now.
They need to then see that maybe, just maybe, an acute case of chicken pox, measles, mumps, or the flu, isn't really so bad after all.