Lisa steals David's Medicine ;)

My son David is 38, blind & quad CP. But David's most difficult challenge - and ours - is Autism. To live with him, work with him and love him every day and know that he is right there, just beyond our reach is the most heart-breaking aspect of our lives.
Yet sometimes he just astounds us! Like yesterday. We were searching frantically for his medication. He was sitting in the middle of the room in his wheelchair - listening to us when he quietly said "Lisa has it." Lisa - his sister, was not here. I asked him what he said and he repeated "Lisa has it, Lisa knows where to find it." This from someone whose main speech is echolalic repetitive requests for food? Okay..... I called Lisa, who lives across the street and told her what her brother said as we continued to search in all the reasonable places. Lisa's reaction was "Why on earth would I have David's medicine?" but she started to look anyway. You guessed it. Somehow Lisa had put his medicine in her purse. David sat there, head down with a little grin on his face, proving that he is indeed is "IN There." If we could just somehow break though the barrier that keeps him from us. I think of it as finding the Rosetta Stone for Autism - a language key of sorts that would break open their worlds - and ours.
Now, if you have read this far and care at all, please do what you can for a child with Autism and their parents. We tend to be the most misunderstood in the realm of parents of disabled children.

*Update:
After at little family brainstorming we realized David knew about the medication- an OCT drug for Reflux - in Lisa's purse because he overheard her. Several days before Lisa told me was borrowing some in case she needed it. Days before and he not only remembered it but was very insistent in telling me "Lisa has it, Lisa can find it, Lisa knows where it is."
He really is IN THERE and there's no age limit or expiration date on when you stop trying to reach him, to break through the barrier that separates us. Sometimes it seems as thin as a gossamer veil and others as dense as Florida Heart Pine. We have discovered Vicodin helps him to be more verbal, much more verbal and his Dr. prescribed it for his pain. But at the levels he needs to help him "talk" it would be dangerous for his liver, kidneys, etc... It seems so unfair, like we found a magic pill but the coating is poisonous.

David's Mom

The name of this Blog, Some Days are Longer than Others, is the title of a book - still in my head- about my son David. Its one I've been meaning to write for 36 years. Thirty some years ago I believed I might have something of value to say to other parents facing a life with a severely disabled child. Now that child is an adult and I still have more questions than answers. Back then we were told our baby was "spastic". It took years to find out that he had spastic quadriplegic Cerebral Palsy. We figured out on our own that he was Blind even though the doctors knew all along. And what they told us was some vague disorder called "Isolette Tension" eventually became Autism. Unfortunately we didn't learn to become advocates for our son until many years later. It seems quite apparent now had I written that book back then it wouldn't have helped anyone - except perhaps me.

The Meaning of Life

I remember meeting an amazing little girl a couple of decades ago - she was not quite 4 years old. When asked the meaning of life she looked pensive a moment then answered "42" - as though it couldn't possibly be anything else. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have such clarity just once? To know without question what you believe is the only true answer?

I wonder where that little girl is today. All grown up by now. Has she's discovered other absolutes along the way?