Unfamiliar Territory

Yesterday was not a great day.

When I went to pick Ian up from school to take him to his GI appointment, I was told that his violin teacher had been in a severe car accident. Thankfully one of the teachers who knows Ian well stopped us to give us a bit more information, because she understands that he needs a bit more detail in order to process information, but I could tell from the moment I saw him that his world was in turmoil.

Question after question followed, and his agitation grew each time I failed at answering them. I watched in the rearview mirror as he squirmed in his seat, and I could tell he was trying to control himself even as his tics grew more pronounced and he started ripping at his fingernails. Distraction didn't work (it never does, but I was desperate), and even in the waiting room at the doctor's office, he repeated the same questions and continued asking them through the examination.

You see, Ian needs order. He needs predictability, routine, and a sense of what-comes-next. When something happens to derail that, it's like the one loose thread of his reality is pulled, and it all starts to unravel around him. In this case, when he heard about the teacher whom he adores and respects, he was devastated. As he started to process the information and what her injuries may mean, it occurred to him that there would be no more violin lessons on Fridays. Music classes would be conducted differently and taught by a different teacher, the spring concert may have to be cancelled, and there would be no music presentation this  month. Everything was going to be different, and no matter which way he asked his questions, there were no answers. There are no answers because we just don't know, and he is panic-stricken in a way most people cannot understand.

He was able to come home after his appointment in a relatively controlled state, and he went straight to his guinea pig to hold her. I praised him repeatedly for using a coping strategy, but I could tell he was still struggling. He held Zelda for twenty minutes, and then he asked his sister to watch TV with him while laying on his back. I found this surprising (in a good way), because one of the strategies they use with Nick is to have him lay across Ian's legs and lean against his torso. It has immediate results in Ian's behavior, so I was amazed he recognized that and tried to implement the same sensation the best way he knew how.

However, the night went downhill from there, and it ended with a complete breakdown. One of the very unfortunate aspects of ASDs is the inability to verbalize feelings, and that was our battle last night. I know he was angry, confused, sad, and scared, but without being able to use those words, we couldn't react the way he needed us to at the time he was feeling specific emotions. He can't voice what he feels or what he needs, so as parents, it's all guesswork. We just do the best we can, and when it gets to the point it did last night, we just have to keep him safe. His frustration builds to a point he can't control himself any longer, and we just have to hang on tight and wait it out.

Nick will be trained to Ian's specific triggers, and he will eventually learn his behaviors so episodes like this will be kept to a minimum. He will be able to "sense" Ian's anxiety so that he can act before he gets to such an agitated state, and hopefully by keeping Ian calm, we can start implementing coping tools to get him through whatever stressor we're facing. Unfortunately, we're at a point right now where he can derail too quickly, and sometimes we're forced to just survive moment by moment.

We do have high hopes for the changes Nick will bring to our family, and once again we would like to thank everyone for their support and encouragement. We couldn't do it without all of you!