Trust The Cabbie
Despite years of experience that proves otherwise, I still cling on to the idea that if someone terms themselves a “professional”, they’ll have an understanding of autism and will have the empathy and good sense to consider reasonable adjustments. I wish I could let go of this belief because it doesn’t cease to disappoint and always adds to extremely stressful situations.
I’ve not slept much at all the last three nights. I keep myself awake having fantasy conversations with people from housing and social care. The place I’ve got to go and view on Thursday doesn’t feel right at all. It fails to tick so many of Steven’s boxes. I’m stressed because I can hear the housing officer saying I’m being too picky. I imagine the things that are so important to Steven’s well being dismissed as unimportant. And I still have those words like ” difficult” and “uncooperative” from 2010 ringing in my ears.
Steven has been picking a scab on his arm that has become infected. This morning I tried to arrange a GP’s appointment. The woman I spoke to knows Steven but I still explained his autism and said I would need a time when we have 2 support workers on duty as he needs 2:1 when he goes out. I suggested Thursday morning. No can do. She offered Friday morning. No good as only 1 support worker on duty. After a few minutes of stalemate and a lecture on how busy the doctors are, I asked whether the practice has an autism policy. Two minutes later, she came back with an 11am appointment for Thursday.
The other big thing is Steven’s weight. I reported that he’s lost four stone as we reduced the anti psychotics. I reckon he’s possibly lost another two stone since stopping them completely. It’s wonderful to see the weight fall and for his energy and fitness levels return. The delight is tempered though by my anger at 7 years of no professional acknowledging the link between the medication and the weight gain. The number of dieticians I’ve seen. The amount of time wasted compiling endless food logs. The doctor who said “starve him”. The psychiatrist who said, ” you’re letting Steven down by letting him get so huge”. Hillingdon’s assertion in court that I was managing Steven’s behaviour by over feeding him. For me it’s been a terrifying seven years of seeing Steven balloon to a probable early death whilst all the professionals blamed me. Isn’t the truth that the medication causes such a chemical imbalance and strain on the organs. Is an early death (by 20/30 years) the price to pay?
On the way back from swimming yesterday, I asked the cab driver to do a detour, so we could check out where the house I’ve got view is. It was a mistake. Steven had a meltdown and the five minute car journey got pretty hairy. The cab driver handled it brilliantly. As I paid him, I said, “Thanks for being so patient. You must know someone with autism?” He replied:
“Nah mate. Just common sense”.
From → Social Care