My husband and I have five kids; the three youngest are on the Autism spectrum. Ezra, the youngest, is high functioning. He is able to get A's in school without formal support, but gets very anxious in unfamiliar situations. Our middle child, Jake, is also near the middle of the spectrum. He needs support to keep up in school, and he doesn't have a broad range of interests, but what he knows, he knows very well. Roxie is right between Ezra and Jake's age. She would be considered "low-functioning." She has very little language, mostly repeating what is said to her, and will never be able to live on her own. Her greatest gift is that she doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks of her. I truly admire that.
It's very easy for people to underestimate Roxie's intelligence, but believe me, just because she can't say it, doesn't mean she's not thinking it. When she was about six years old, she indicated to me that she wanted syrup. To my knowledge, she had never had syrup, and I wasn't about to open THAT can of worms,
so I said no, which she took surprisingly well, and I gave her something else. Done, right? Later that day, I took a load of laundry to the basement, and when I came back up, the door was locked! My husband opened the door after a few minutes of me pounding on it, and I discovered a chair sitting under the cabinet where the syrup was. Roxie had figured out how to get what she wanted, and patiently waited for an opportunity. She actually locked me out, and got a chair to reach the syrup! You've just gotta admire that!
A few weeks ago, I decided to challenge myself to learn how to walk in high heels without looking like Frankenstein. So I ordered a cute pair of shoes. Roxie was sitting beside me as I opened the box. I exclaimed "Holy Frickin' CRAP!' (several times), when I saw how high the heels were. The next day, Roxie let out a HUGE burp (ok, it was a fart), and she said "Holy Frickin' CRAP!" spontaneously, AND in context. I was ecstatic!
Every day when she wakes up, I ask her if she is wet or dry. When she's dry, she gets high fives, knuckle bumps, and lots of praise. This morning, she told me she was dry, but I noticed that she wasn't wearing the same thing she went to bed in. Sure enough, her bed was wet, but she had changed her own clothes (for the first time EVER), so that she could tell me that SHE was dry. That's awesome!
Roxie totally ROCKS!
So. My husband is in the throes of diabetes. He's had it for 16 years, and was forced into retirement last June. His kidneys are failing, and he's in constant pain. He's pretty tough, and he doesn't complain much, and when he does, he's certainly entitled to. We were talking about pain one night, and landed on marijuana. We agreed that perhaps he should try some for pain management.....as an experiment. If it worked, he would approach his doctor about prescription marijuana. But, no point in opening that can of worms until we knew if it would help.
Now, I have a boat load of nephews. Occasionally, I've detected the sweet smell of MaryJane wafting in the wake of a couple of them. So, I volunteered to get it from one of them. I sent a text to my nephew, explaining what we needed, and asked if he could help. He said sure, how much do you want, and when do you want it. We only wanted $20 worth, enough to to figure it out, one way or another.
A few days, and many texts later, my nephew and I agreed to meet for the exchange. My nephew lives in St. Paul, but he directed me to a place about a mile from our house in Minneapolis. Weird, I thought, but ok. Maybe this is where his dealer lives. He said he would be in this particular alley, so I get there, and it is right behind a fire station, AND across the street from a public school, AND it wasn't my nephew I had been texting - it was my teenage son's friend with the same name as my nephew. So I'm committing all KINDS of felonies. The worst part? He didn't have papers!
Make sure you know who you're texting. And no matter how sketchy a situation you find yourself in, don't panic! Just keep moving.
Oh, and the marijuana did help with the pain, but my husband found it difficult to focus on the book he was writing at the time, so it was a one-time transaction. I enjoyed sharing this tale with my actual nephew via text.
I'm so jazzed that I figured out how to do this (patting myself on the back)!
I guess I'll start towards the end of the beginning.
I fell in love for the first time when I was 15, a few months before the youngest of my six siblings was born. I'm the oldest, and probably the boldest. I married my first love 20 years after we met, and we've been married for 19 years. We have five kids. Our oldest daughter is grown and gone, our oldest son is a junior at Northwestern University; our three youngest are on the autism spectrum, and all are in high school. In fact, our youngest is now 15 years old. I've mostly been a homemaker throughout our marriage. I've done volunteer work for the Minneapolis Public Schools, the State of Minnesota, and Children's Hospitals and Clinics. I've also produced and directed a documentary about raising children with disabilities called "Through Our Eyes."
I have an issue that's really bugging me today, so here goes. I have a prescription for pain medication, and when I opened the last refill bottle, something didn't look right. The prescription is for 60 pills, but there were only 50 in the bottle. I counted twice, and my husband counted twice, and we came up with 50 every time. I go back to the pharmacy, but the person behind the counter is the pharmacist who filled the prescription. She listens to me, goes back and grabs a big bottle of I don't know what, counts the pills, and tells me their numbers match up. Well of course they do, because you took out 60 pills like you were supposed to. But you only gave me 50. She denies it, and I can't prove it. I've been going to this pharmacy for 20 years, dealing with the same two pharmacists, one of which recently went into semi-retirement. They also recently remodeled, and hired two new pharmacists. And that is where the problem lies. Because, actually, I thought one of our refills looked a little light before, but it was a crazy busy day, and I just let it go. I now either have to count every pill at the counter, or transfer to another pharmacy. It really saddens me to end this 20 year relationship, but I don't trust this woman anymore. I'll talk to the other, long-time pharmacist to explain why my family is leaving, and to tell them to watch what's going on. I know they're human, and make mistakes, but this wasn't a mistake. And there's nothing I can do about it, except walk away. And hope that the same thing doesn't happen at the next place. It comes down to the eternal question: stay with the devil you know, or switch to the devil you don't?
My husband and I have five kids; the three youngest are on the Autism spectrum. Ezra, the youngest, is high functioning. He is able to get A's in school without formal support, but gets very anxious in unfamiliar situations. Our middle child, Jake, is also near the middle of the spectrum. He needs support to keep up in school, and he doesn't have a broad range of interests, but what he knows, he knows very well. Roxie is right between Ezra and Jake's age. She would be considered "low-functioning." She has very little language, mostly repeating what is said to her, and will never be able to live on her own. Her greatest gift is that she doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks of her. I truly admire that.
It's very easy for people to underestimate Roxie's intelligence, but believe me, just because she can't say it, doesn't mean she's not thinking it. When she was about six years old, she indicated to me that she wanted syrup. To my knowledge, she had never had syrup, and I wasn't about to open THAT can of worms, so I said no, which she took surprisingly well, and I gave her something else. Done, right? Later that day, I took a load of laundry to the basement, and when I came back up, the door was locked! My husband opened the door after a few minutes of me pounding on it, and I discovered a chair sitting under the cabinet where the syrup was. Roxie had figured out how to get what she wanted, and patiently waited for an opportunity. She actually locked me out, and got a chair to reach the syrup! You've just gotta admire that!