I Have a Big Chest

A month ago I had a health scare. My blood pressure spiked while my husband was hospitalized with diverticulitis and then underwent a cardiac catherization (it was negative, he is fine). My EKG showed abnormal waves that could mean at some time in the past I had a heart attack or, according to my cardiologist (the same one who 2 years ago placed a stent in my asymptomatic husband's heart 2 cm from what they commonly call the "widow maker" to open a 99% blockage before he had one of those silent, but deadly heart attacks), it could just mean that I have a big chest. Wednesday I had an echocardiogram and a stress test. Besides being overweight and out of shape, my heart is working well. No previous heart attack (BTW, that I don't remember having), no cardiac damage of any kind. Great blood flow. Obviously I just have a large chest! However, it is a wake up call to change my life style and take care of myself. I don't need to be hit over the head again. So, since getting cleared last Wednesday by the cardiologist to exercise with no restrictions (this was a week before the echocardiogram & stress test), I've been using the SpoFit treadmill and treading water while my son is in school. I can no longer afford not to exercise and change my diet. I didn't like the alternatives especially now that my son has turned a corner. We all worked way too hard for me not to be around to enjoy the good stuff and celebrate my son's hard earned progress. I've given up my Focus office for the SpoFit and they have wifi! What more could I ask? ;)

Welcome to Holland

The new staffers at my son's school think he is among their easiest students. They have no idea about his challenges of even a few years ago. What finally made the difference for my son came at our darkest hour totally by accident. For 6 years he suffered from excruciating headaches so painful he tried to bang his head through our floors (here in AZ ground floors sit atop a concrete slab). He was in so much pain and we were so desperate after running out of specialists with whom to consult that we admitted him to the locked Biobehavior Unit at Phoenix Children's Hospital. Because the admitting psychiatrist preferred one medication over another (like I prefer Coke to Pepsi) he changed them out and for my son that has made all the difference. Even afterward the doctors were skeptical but you can't argue with the results. My son's psychiatrist told me during our last visit that since the medication change for my son, he has treated several other children with the same medication reaction now that he is aware of the possibility. Last year the psychiatrist added a new medication that also is making a major difference for my son. Suddenly my son's future is filled with many new possibilities as he continues to make progress. Amazing what you can learn when you aren't in so much pain that you put your head through the wall seeking relief to no avail. Many are familiar with the poem Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingsley (http://www.lovethatmax.com/2011/03/interview-with-author-of-welcome-to.html) in which she analogizes raising a child with special needs to taking a trip to Holland when you expected to be taking a trip to Italy. Welcome to Beruit by Susan F. Rzucidlo (http://www.bbbautism.com/beginners_beirut.htm) is the corollary written by a parent raising a child with autism. I've never visited Holland or Beriut, but Italy is my second favorite country (after the USA). My husband and I spent 10 glorious days exploring Rome, Pisa, Florence and Venice during the 6 months we lived in Germany when we were first married. Midnight Mass at St. Peter's was a bucket list item along with meeting Justice Sandra Day O'Connor (food for thought for another blog entry). We hoped when our children were middle school age (that would be now) we'd find a way to score a 3 year corporate assignment in Europe, preferably Italy. Alas that opportunity is not to be... Instead we are in the AZ desert (my least favorite place) for the foreseeable future. In the past decade, without meaning to (we were too focused on daily survival to even notice), we've built a wonderful life and a home for ourselves in this God forsaken desert. We belong. We have friends who are our extended family. We celebrate holidays with them. We laugh, cry and kvetch together. They worry about us and we worry about them. Our son is surrounded by a loving community of friends who watch out for him. I may not like the desert and it certainly isn't Italy but I love our life here. Home is where your heart is and no matter what your head may say, you need to just have faith and follow your heart.

Why Not Us?

My husband's employer sent an email to all 3,500 employees this afternoon informing them that within the last 24 hours someone left two flashlights near businesses that exploded when innocent people picked them up and turned them on. My husband has never received a similar email during the 9+ years he has worked at the hospital. The Feds are on it and obviously we're all praying that they catch whomever is doing this before someone is seriously hurt. The first 6 months of our marriage we lived outside Nuremberg in Bavaria, Germany. My lasting memory of landing in Frankfort is of guards armed with Uzis patrolling on a catwalk above us. The only place I had ever seen patrolling armed guards before was at a US Military base or when crossing the border into Canada. However, their weapons always were in plain sight but holstered. During our German classes we were taught how to tone down our "Americanness." We were instructed to speak more quietly (Americans are loud and boisterous) and how to hold a knife and fork like Europeans so we couldn't be singled out as easily. The Germans understood that they had roughly the same chance of being a victim of terrorism violence as they had of being hit by a car while crossing the street. It was just a fact of life. When the planes crashed into the Twin Towers on 9/11 my husband and I were shocked, but not totally. We knew it was only a matter of time before, like the Germans and other Europeans, we Americans learned that we, too, have roughly the same chance of being a victim of terrorism violence as we have of being hit by a car while crossing the street. It is just a fact of life. This morning while working out at SpoFit (I'm not one of those zone people while exercising) I met a man who tripped over his wife's power wheelchair, never felt any pain from the injury and 6 operations later had to have his leg amputated. It is just a fact of life. Rather than bemoan his fate he was working out in the pool while innocently bantering with the Aquatics Director who easily is young enough to be his granddaughter and was flattered by his attention.

Build It And They Will Come

Last night during evening rush hour we had a dust storm followed by rain complete with high winds. Every Wednesday our routine for the past few months has been to pick up my husband at work (the hospital is half way between home and my son's school so we commute together) then go to the SpoFit (http:\\www.spofit.org) where my son climbs the Rockwall. The weather delayed our plans and cancelled our time in the SpoFit pool but as soon as the storm broke we jumped on the freeway and headed out. SpoFit has a Kids Corner program where the staff plays organized games with the kids. Last night it was just my son zooming around on a gym scooter and trying his best to shoot hoops along with my husband. We now are adding Kids Corner on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursday's to our routine. Swim lessons begin in a few weeks and over break my son will be attending 3 weeks of summer camp for a few hours on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Afterward we'll swim. SpoFit is the best kept secret in town. It was built with money from City of Phoenix municipal bonds and is for people with disabilities and their families. A family membership only costs us $60 per month. Like everything else it is a drive, but watching my son and his father on those gym scooters last night was well worth the 40 minute drive even during a storm. While we love having the facility all to ourselves, I am amazed it isn't crowded. Enjoying the local Y a few miles from our house isn't an option right now but we hope after spending time at SpoFit it will become one. Integration as much as possible always is our goal. I had brunch with some of the moms from my son's school today. Word of SpoFit is beginning to circulate among the autism community. It will be fun watching it go viral. We like that our son meets people with different challenges and that it reminds us we are part of the larger disability community not just autism land. We're going to continue enjoying having the facility to ourselves for now because very soon it will be humming.

Routine Is Everything

For the past few weeks I've been up a few hours earlier than the usual 6 am. My husband's work hours shifted to accommodate a coworker's vacation and for some reason our son has been waking up early to pee and staying awake. Routine is everything when raising a child with autism, especially one who can not yet communicate using words. The predictability of a routine and advance warning about changes makes him feel more secure in a world that constantly threatens to overwhelm him because his body just doesn't regulate itself very well. My natural talent for thinking and acting quickly on my feet gave me an edge during witness cross examination and now enables me to be a clairvoyant mind reader. Maybe in my next career I'll be a Mentalist. As long as I am prepared enough for the three of us and we remember to forewarn our son whenever possible about changes, everyday life runs relatively smoothly. Although my husband has an ADD diagnosis and is somewhere on the autism spectrum, luckily he has no problem navigating change for himself. Over the years he's developed small routines and rituals that help him be prepared for life's contingencies. My husband is so successful that other people have no clue that transition is a challenge for him. Over the past decade he also has gotten pretty good at making sure he is prepared for most predictable contingencies regarding our son, but my husband will never be a clairvoyant mind reader. That remains my job. Last night I visited a friend who is in the hospital. She has been in excruciating pain for the past 5 weeks all the while keeping her plates spinning. She home schools her two sons, each of whom has his own special needs. Add in her daughter who has her own health issues and a few weeks ago just delivered her 2nd baby within 16 months. Then there is her brother-in-law who is still sleeping on her couch after a year and a half while trying to secure employment. My friend is viewing her hospital stay as much needed time away from the demands of her family so she can heal. She has no choice. Her body said enough. Now it is her turn. She gave her husband a detailed list and so far he is surviving after 2 days of holding down the fort. Things may not be done up to her standards but everyone in her family remains alive and well. Every once in a while even clairvoyant mind readers need a break as long as we prepare everyone else in advance for this contingency.

We've Come So Far But We Still Have So Much Farther Left to Go

I read on FaceBook this morning that the son of a friend is graduating from high school next weekend and headed to college. Not that surprising as most of my peers (those who didn't wait like me until age 39 to begin having children) are now in that home stretch parenting time. What is surprising is that a decade ago college really wasn't seen as a viable option for this child because he has autism. However, he has an advantage that should never be underestimated. His mother is a tireless advocate for her children and for countless others. As a professional advocate she helps families, including her own, navigate "the system" so that they can secure the resources needed to help their children grow to their fullest potential. His mother is the older sister of one of my college roommates. My older sister, special education teacher extraordinaire, died a few months before my son was diagnosed with autism so I couldn't lean on my sister to help me figure out how to navigate " the system." Knowing this, my college roommate shared her older sister with me when I needed her most. During the past decade I've often thought about my friends and their family even if I am the worst at keeping in touch as I struggle to deal with the here and now of my journey in autism land. During college and law school I spent countless hours as an extra child in their family. They lived 20 minutes away from school and we often spent Sunday afternoons complete with wonderful family dinners at their parents' and grandmother's home. Their parents were used to children as they had 7 of their own although I only had the privilege of meeting 5. Their oldest son died tragically in a car accident when he was a toddler and their 2nd son died tragically when he was a young adult and residing in a New York State institutional care facility for those with developmental disabilities. 50 years ago these amazing people were faced with Sophie's Choice. They were told the only way to help their son get the care he needed was to relinquish their parental rights and place him in an institution where he would be better off as would their other children be better off growing up without him. While they never talked about their children who were no longer with them, I have no doubt that these parents thought of them always and missed them terribly as they raised their other 5 children and welcomed strays like me into their home. After my friend's children (she has a younger daughter in addition to her graduating son) were diagnosed with autism, my friend's parents relocated from Albany, NY to Atlanta to help her care for their grandchildren. The more Grandma learned about autism, she realized that her 2nd son, too, had autism. Unfortunately this amazing mother and grandmother died last year so she won't be there to see her grandson graduate from high school, but I have no doubt she, her husband and older sons will be watching from above and cheering loudly. Today is a bittersweet day for our school community. Two years ago a bright star was tragically taken from us. He was a happy, vibrant 7 year old whose eyes sparkled with the mischief you just knew he was contemplating. He was beloved by all who knew him, especially those who worked with him at school and in his home program. I learned during my time in Family Court that some things are beyond my ken. I learned to stop asking why because there are some times the answer is not mine to know. So this morning my son and I stopped at the grocery store before school and he bought flowers and a fruit plate for his teacher and her staff. It is a small gesture, but it is the best we can offer to comfort our school community as they remember my son's classmate and friend. This morning the New York Times announced that NY Governor Cuomo is proposing creation of an agency to protect the rights of those with disabilities, including developmental disabilities (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/07/nyregion/governor-to-propose-new-agency-to-fight-abuse-of-disabled.html?_r=1&emc=tnt&tntemail0=y). Words can not express my sadness about the quality of life for too many people with developmental disabilities who reside in NY group homes. After Willowbrook we thought it could never happen again in New York especially since in the early '90's we closed the large institutions and moved people with developmental disabilities into smaller homes located within the community. In 1991 it was my privilege to be appointed Guardian ad Litem by the local Surrogate Court Judge for half a dozen former residents of the Rome, NY Intermediate Care Facility who recently were moved from the large institution (it befittingly became a prison). Like my friends' parents years before (their son resided in that Rome facility), the parents of my clients were required to relinquish their parental rights in order to get their children the care they needed. However, in 1991 New York State realized that it was in the best interest of my clients to encourage their parents or other close relatives to apply to Surrogate's Court to be appointed as guardian of their adult child. It was my job as Guardian ad Litem to be the eyes and ears of the Court and report on the appropriateness of these guardianship petitions. I found loving parents and caring staff. All of my clients appeared to be well cared for. I do take comfort that from what I gather from recent media reports, the group homes in Central New York appear to be different from some other places in New York State in that the vast majority of people who reside there appear still to be well taken care of. A couple years ago I sat on the AZ Dept. of Developmental Disabilities Sustainability Workgroup where we began the initial discussions regarding charting a course for the future AZ "system" to serve those with developmental disabilities. This work currently is happening at the Federal level (NCD Report: Exploring New Paradigms for the Developmental Disabilities Assistance & Bill of Rights Act http://www.ncd.gov/publications/2012/Apr222012/). Here's hoping as we go forward that quality of life remains our #1 concern.

We're Going to Heaven on the Subway

A few days ago the LA Times (http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-0501-autism-hearing-20120501,0,6943341.story) reported on a hearing concerning the disparities in CA state funding spent on children with autism. I'm not surprised although I am chagrined that what is happening here in AZ, land of Libertarian anti-authoritarian self sufficiency, also is the norm in CA, the traditional mecca of Liberal leaning Progressives. For the past decade I've been referring to the AZ publicly funded "system" (healthcare, education and social service) for people, especially children, with autism as Middle Class Welfare. Despite AZ advances in diagnosing Hispanic children with ASD (http://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/tenyears/documents/autism-event/ADDM_10yrs.pdf), the great majority of parents I meet in therapy center waiting rooms and local online autism parent support groups are overwhelmingly white, educated and middle class. A decade ago when my son was 1st diagnosed and I was struggling to secure critical early intervention services for him, during a public meeting the parent of an older child with autism admonished me to sit down and shut up because my son already was receiving more intervention than her son received at that age (she obviously was unaware of the difference early intervention can make). Even my son's developmental pediatrician initially questioned why he should help me secure additional services for my son when so many of his other patients had so much less intervention available to them. The Great Man was astonished that I was able to secure so many services so quickly but to me waiting 3 1/2 months for early intervention to begin was criminal. I have never requested anything from "the system" that wasn't 1st recommended by a treating professional. From the beginning the 1999 NYS Dept. of Health Clinical Guidelines (http://www.health.ny.gov/publications/4216.pdf) was my north star. Before it was available for free online I ordered my own copy. Would you expect any less of me? I may be stuck in this God forsaken desert because of my husband's job but that will never deter me from securing what my son needs to help him reach his fullest possible potential. A decade ago I had much to learn about AZ. The Great Man (a fellow New Yorker) reminded me countless times over the past decade that AZ is not NY. The Great Man and I immediately struck a deal those many years ago. The Great Man provides whatever scripts and reports (as long as the therapies are medically necessary in his professional opinion) I need to get my son what he needs and I share my experiences with the parents of the Great Man's other patients. It is a pact that has served my son and I hope many other children well especially as more parents of children diagnosed with autism at the same time and after my son reached across and back to pay it forward and share their experiences with other parents. Things here in AZ autism land were going pretty well until January 2009 when the economic bottom fell out and AZ made draconian cuts to public healthcare, education and social service funding. While we weren't as progressive as NY, CA, MA, NJ and some other states, we were moving forward and people with developmental disabilities, at least those whose parents or other advocates could navigate "the system," were receiving much of what they needed. After the Great Recession it became a very different ball game. Like most Americans I await the June US Supreme Court decisions regarding the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act and AZ's SB1070. Unlike many Arizonans, my primary concern isn't illegal immigration law enforcement. I worry about Federalism, States Rights and it's effect on public funding. We are poised on the precipice of Medicaid reform and depending upon what the Supreme Court says in June we will find ourselves trying to surf the new normal from either the crest or the trough. Last year when discussing redesigning "the system" I told a room full of people that we need to remember we're going to heaven on the subway. For Christmas 1978 my friend Fr. Mike Bassano gave me a copy of Michel Quoist's Prayers (http://books.google.com/books?id=SXes4G5IToMC&pg=PA26&lpg=PA26&dq=michel+quoist+prayers+subway&source=bl&ots=xl7U-0WnUt&sig=cMxWBRfPKKlyZgZQkfnlkMrEd74&hl=en&sa=X&ei=dyOkT-THN8HjiAL0tvC-Aw&ved=0CHAQ6AEwAw#v=onepage&q=michel%20quoist%20prayers%20subway&f=false). The Subway has helped guide me all these years. While I am here in the desert tilting at windmills Mike Bassano is a MaryKnoll Missionary in Tanzania (http://www.fathermikebook.com/, fodder for another post). My prayer continues that as we redesign "the system" we use public funding more equitably so that all people with developmental disabilities, especially autism, have the therapies, supports and services they need to not only survive but to thrive. The Great Man and my other like minded friends don't worry so much about my son because they know my husband and I will take care of him. It is worrying about those other people with developmental disabilities who, for whatever reason, don't have advocates navigating "the system" on their behalf that keeps us up nights or in my case, increases my grey hair.

He said DaDa

When our son was born he was the most wanted child in the world. He still is. The first time I held him he looked at us and smiled. It wasn't gas. We saw it very clearly and it was the most beautiful thing we've ever seen. He knew exactly where he belonged. He was home. This evening our son called his father DaDa for the 1st time (I prompted him) and then without prompting presented his forehead near his father's lips because he wanted a kiss. After his parents cheering and laughing simmered down he said Ga (go) because he wanted to go for a car ride as his reward for doing something so monumental. Before we left I grabbed my cell phone, called my mother and prompted my son to say DaDa for his grandmother. My son said Ba (as in Bye) and then Ba again since the phone call was delaying his ride. With a bit more prompting he did say DaDa and Ga for his grandmother and then we took him for his ride. Earlier today I showed my son Italian kisses. You grab the child with a hand on each side of their face and plant several loud smacks on each cheek. The louder and wetter the better. My grandmother gave us the best kisses and my mother in her turn gave them to my 3 nephews. When my parents last visited a few years ago my mother tried to give my son those kisses and he pulled away because he was too overwhelmed. A few minutes ago not only did my son come to me and request those Italian kisses, but he removed his head phones (he has auditory hypersensitivity) so I could better grab his face. You can bet Gramma will be showering him with kisses when she sees him in Portland this August. After all that I saw practicing in Family Court, I never once asked "why me?" when told my son has autism. I knew the more appropriate question was "why not me?" They told us that if he didn't talk by age 5 he'd never talk but I know better. The flip side of "why not me" is "It ain't over til it's over." Even when my son's speech therapist shared with me last month that she thought he might be on the verge of a break through, she was hesitant to get my hopes up. Later that day he said bubble when prompted. He works very hard and the progress slowly keeps coming. We understand that because of the apraxia and autism we are in unchartered waters. We have no idea what my son's future will be, but we know we'll find out together. Until I see otherwise, as far as I'm concerned, the future is filled with possibilities. My son inherited my persistence and my tenacity so we shall see what we shall see when we see it and you can take that to the Bank of Frank.We waited a decade before he said DaDa to his father. We have a lifetime.

The Bank of Frank

If you ask my husband about our 1st introduction he'll tell you I met him at church, took him to a bar, followed him home and then he took me to a homeless shelter. That is what happened, but not exactly. After closing my law practice I relocated to Raleigh, NC and stayed with my sister and her family for a few months while I figured out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Not excited with the bar scene, I attended a Catholic Singles Group to meet people. My future husband was standing next to me in the pizza line and inquired about my computer operating system (It was 1997). I couldn't wait for the line to finish until I met the rest of the group who all wanted me to Monday Morning Quarterback their divorces (previous occupational hazard). A few of us went out for a drink afterward and since he lived off the highway a few miles before my sister's town, I followed him (the Raleigh Beltline is not newbie friendly). My future husband, who organized the Singles Group volunteer activity of cooking breakfast at a homeless shelter one Saturday a month, invited me to join them so I did. My future husband was known within the singles group as every woman's safe date. I dubbed him the Bank of Frank because he is so trustworthy and reliable. Until he met me he was happy as the male buddy because every other woman scared him by viewing him as a project who needed to be fixed. After a decade in Family Court I had a good idea of what didn't work in a marriage. I am a fixer of problems but I know enough never to try and fix people. He fell in love waiting in that pizza line or maybe it was sitting at the bar later that clinched it. He can tell you exactly what I was wearing that night. Of course, like many on the autism spectrum, he thinks in pictures plus he has a photographic memory so it is a bit easier for him to remember all the small details. Before our 5th anniversary we spent the 1st six months of our marriage living in Germany (we traveled 22 out of 26 weekends) and then lived in 3 states. We survived a miscarriage, 2 layoffs (our son was 6 weeks for the 1st and the 2nd was 3 months after relo-ing to Phoenix), my sister's death 12 weeks after diagnosis from cancer and our 19 month old son being diagnosed with autism. My husband has unwavering faith. He just knows that no matter what, everything will work out fine. I, on the other hand, am more comfortable with faith by action. I believe that God helps he who helps himself because we all have the resources we need to meet our challenges. We just need to wake up, recognize the resources around us and then use them. During those rare times my faith waivers I rely on The Bank of Frank. He is my rock.

We're Going to the Zoo, Zoo, Zoo...

The Utica Zoo (http://www.uticazoo.org/) theme song is an earworm for everyone who originally hails from the Mohawk Valley in Central New York. Years later we still can hear the tune playing in our heads. Yesterday my son's school took our annual field trip to the Phoenix Zoo. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtHp5YNHQSQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player) No catchy theme song, but a good time was had by all. One of the staffers whose tenure at the school is longer than my son has attended remarked that this was the 1st year she saw me relaxed with a big smile during the zoo field trip. She is right. I didn't have a care in the world. My son made amazing progress this past year. He was with an amazing staffer who is young but extremely talented. He had money for drinks, snacks and a carousel ride for both of them although like the rest of the staffers, she refused to use my money to buy anything for herself. There was one child who had a meltdown but I only learned about it because I was with the staffer charged with ordering lunches for the group and she needed $$ to pay but at that moment the teacher with the $$ was busy with her student. This is why there is Visa. (Just one of the few duties of being Parents Assoc. President by Default ;) Within a few minutes the distressed student, teacher and assisting staffers calmly showed up for lunch. My son attends this amazing private school to which we commute 50 minutes each way through Phoenix during rush hour because our school district can't figure out how to properly educate my son. It isn't rocket science, but it does require well trained, talented staffers willing to think outside the box. Our district pays less in tuition to the private school and travel reimbursement (required by Federal Education Law) to me than it receives in aid from the State and the Feds to educate my son. The only reason the school district hasn't threatened to place my son in their in district self contained autism class is that they would rather not deal with me. They understand that until a Federal Judge orders otherwise my son will remain at the private school as long as he needs to be there. It is good to have my reputation precede me. Back in the decade I practiced law in the Mohawk Valley my fellow attorneys dubbed me a street fighter while friends affectionately called me Psycho Bitch Lawyer from Hell. Last month my son had a major break through. He is finding his voice and now will try to repeat sounds upon request. In addition to speech therapy during school (the entire program is communication enriched) where a speech therapist supervises an SLPA who does the majority of the one to one work, my son also has an hour of after school speech therapy where the school codirector/owner who is a speech therapist with a Ph.D. supervises another SLPA who also works with my son during school time. Then there is the consulting speech therapist who is a feeding specialist and a 4th speech therapist who is in charge of other students but the whole staff works as a team. Plus my son has an amazing teacher who is in charge of 15 students and 7 staffers. Then there is the sensory/OT team... All of this highly trained, amazingly talented staff for tuition that is about $9K less than the school district receives to educate my son. I shake my head at the state of public schools in AZ (our district is A+ rated but continually needing state assistance for it's autism program) and count my blessings that 5 years ago my son received a coveted spot at his amazing school! We 1st met the speech therapist who oversees my son's in school program when she was a college student working at another agency in their autism early intervention program. At 24 months my son was the youngest to attend the program and we did so with great trepidation because the management had a "my way or the highway" attitude that allowed very little individual tailoring for each child. I compared the program to what was available in the Mohawk Valley and it came up short but at that time was the only game in town. However, there were a few naturally talented shining stars, all of whom now work elsewhere, who over the past decade we've watched grow professionally; especially my son's speech therapist. My son did well in that 1st program and for a few years did ok in the home program they supervised until my son's headache pain intensified as did his self injurious and defensive behaviors (All behavior is communication and for 6 years he tried to tell us he was in intense pain from a medication no doctor suspected; welcome to autism land). It wasn't until my son began attending his private school that we found professionals who had a clue and were willing to think outside "the box" to really help him. An inadvertent med change 2 years ago seriously relieved his headache pain and the addition of a new medication last year has enabled him to better benefit from his school and home programs. My son was the March 2012 Student of the Month. Thanks to the amazing school staff and the amazing woman who works with him in his home program (she has been with us 5 years); another caring, patient, naturally talented person with a heart of gold who is beyond amazing! So now you understand why I spent yesterday at the Phoenix Zoo relaxed and grinning like a Cheshire Cat. :)