I am a self-admitted, self-diagnosed, hypochondriac. In fact, if there were a club for hypochondriacs, I feel certain I would be unanimously voted president, as long as I wasn't out sick or at a doctor's appointment the day of the nominations. If it's a scab on my arm that's been there for three days, it's most certainly skin cancer. A week filled with achy joints is not my "Welcome to the Mid-40's Party", chances are good, I have Lyme Disease. A tight feeling in my chest is not a result from skipping the gym for three weeks then hitting the weights as if I hadn't missed a day. Oh nooo, that tight feeling most assuredly is not muscle strain, it must be angina, therefore, a stress test is right around the corner. A cold and cough that sticks around as long as the pollen sticks to my porch furniture, is not something as simple as seasonal allergies, but, chances are very high that I have contracted a rare form of Avian Influenza, aka, Bird Flu. Yes, if I have read about it, chances are, I have it, or I will get it...soon. A doctor once told me that I "look for the unicorn instead of the horse" which is a much nicer way of saying, "Lady, you are bat sh** crazy".
I would love to tell you that my hypochondria is limited to just my own perceived illnesses, but, that wouldn't be AWEnest of me. Every one of my doctors, and sadly, my children's doctors, have a photo of me lassoing a unicorn in their files. I never leave the doctors disappointed as I constantly walk right past the horse, completely ignoring him, so worried about finding that stupid, elusive unicorn. In fact, I think I leave many of the doctors shaking their head in bewilderment and looking forward to their lunch break when they can share my latest disease fearing, unicorn searching frenzy with the other doctors in the lunchroom. Yes, I'm a frantic worrier about my children's health, more so than my own (my primary care physician, my gynecologist, my breast care doctor and even my dentist would all find that VERY hard to believe). So, when Ryan was sick for a week with a fever, cold, and horrific cough (Bird Flu, Swine Flu, West Nile Virus...have the mosquitoes even been born yet?), WebMD was constantly pulled up on my phone and Ryan and I made a trip to the pediatrician's office....twice.
I was convinced Ryan had pneumonia, RSV, strep throat or something that would require some type of medication and a quick fix, but, alas, it was not bacteria born, it was the dreaded V Word...virus, which meant no antibiotic, no quick fix, just plenty of fluids with the oh so wise words, "just let the virus run it's course". Are you sure there isn't a pill, an ointment, an elixir, something to speed up and ease up this so called course? I mean, Ryan had already missed a week of school which meant he was way off schedule and that translates to lots of make up work that will come home upon his return to school, which increases the likelihood of meltdowns, which greatly increases the probability that I may feign a case of Ebola Virus so the CDC can quarantine me until all the make up work is completed. Are you absolutely, positively sure there isn't a pill for this?
Whatever this VIRUS was (I no longer say "bug", read my blog post, Literally Speaking in March, 2013 to understand why), it made the dreaded, media hyped, Swine Flu seem like a walk in the park. Most days, Ryan's fever was in the 103-104 range, you know the kind of fever where they feel so miserable and just want cuddled and you have to put on a spacesuit to protect your skin from the heat. Fortunately, the fever is now gone, but, the cough, which at night echoes off the walls sounding remarkably like we are living in a wing in an old tuberculosis hospital, still lingers on...and on....and on. Poor fella, he's not a fan of being sick, and like any mom, I hate to see my kids sick too, until one day, several years ago, my old friend Denial plopped down on the couch next to me and my fever ridden boy and showed me a research article she had just discovered on Google (of course).
This was back in the day when my old friend Denial and I were thick as thieves. Denial told me that some parents believed their child's autism symptoms abated when their child was sick with a fever. What? Yep, many parents noticed a reduction in stimming, an increase in language and an overall reduction of autism symptoms when their kids ran a fever. Once the fever went away, the autism symptoms returned. In fact, this was reported by so many parents enough times that a paper published in the journal Pediatrics in 2007 by Drs Dominick Purpura and Mark Mehler of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, addressed this phenomenon. These two doctors discovered that the correlation between a fever and reduction of autism symptoms had to do with a part of the brain called the locus coeruleus. Yeah, I don't know how to pronounce it and I certainly had no idea that was part of my brain either. AWEnestly, I didn't care about all the scientific stuff that I couldn't even begin to say or understand, I was just astounded that a fever might allow me a chance to connect with my son! Well alrighty then, I decided to sit back and wait for the next virus to hit.
Don't worry, no need to call child services, I didn't go all Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy on Ryan. I didn't intentionally get my kid sick by sneezing on him, running him into the neighbors house where strep throat was running rampant, or hide his Flintstones Vitamins from him, but, I have to be AWEnest, this complete and total hypochondriac was almost as excited for the next cold and flu season to hit as I was when I discovered WebMD. I couldn't help but wonder, if my guy got sick, would I starve his cold and feed his fever, to see if maybe, just maybe those parents were right? For a kid who constantly chews on his fingers, it didn't take long for Ryan to pick up a virus and for this mom to sit back and see if a fever, would in fact, crack his beautiful, impenetrable shell.
I remember that virus like it was yesterday. I recall checking Ryan's temperature religiously, which of course he hated, but, I kept telling myself, that if these parents were right and his autism symptoms abated with the fever, then eventually when the fever rose, he wouldn't mind me sticking a thermometer in his ear every five minutes. Sure enough, in a matter of hours, Ryan's fever crept up and once it hit 101, I gave him some Motrin (I'm not that twisted that I'd make him suffer), but, I did sit next to him on the couch observing my sweet boy before the Motrin kicked in, waiting to see if his language improved, his connection got stronger, or if his Thomas the Tank Engine scripting subsided. In my heart of hearts, I did believe that Ryan seemed more "checked in". He answered my questions more readily, he responded more appropriately, and he let me snuggle him for hours. Was this a result of the fever taking hold of Ryan's locus coeruleus or was this just a little guy who felt so miserable he answered my questions so I'd leave him the hell alone and he could get back to watching Thomas?
Denial assured me that Ryan's fever made him "better" which of course was an oxymoron for a kid whose eyes were glazed over with fever and who had snot dripping off his chin. Were Ryan's autism symptoms really reduced or was Denial fooling me again? Was my fear of The A Word so visceral that this research study became my placebo? My quick fix, my belief that something "wrong" got "better" with something as simple as a fever, or was it "all in my head"? As a mother who was so frightened by autism due to my lack of understanding, I think I would have believed anything might make Ryan "better". The placebo effect, a belief that some type of treatment will change a particular condition is so strong, that there is a perceived actual improvement in the condition, when in fact, there is none. For a long time, Denial and the placebo effect were hands down, part of my journey into autism acceptance. I kept looking for the "quick fix" whether it was real or all "in my head". I needed something to hold onto, something to give me hope, something to believe in, something that would one day make my son "better". More importantly, I needed something to wean me off of this powerful addiction I had with Denial. Or at the very least, a pill that made me think I had.
Don't we all want a quick fix or a pill to "make it better"? A pill that will heal a broken heart. An amnesiac syrup that will cause us to forget painful mistakes. An ointment that can rub away and clear up hurtful misunderstandings. A shot that may sting for a second, but, can protect us from hurt in the future. A fever that effects the locus coeruleus and makes autism fade away. Just like so many things in life, there are no "quick fixes" to make it all better, nor are there placebos to make you think things are better (unless of course you count wine). A broken heart needs time to heal. Mistakes may be hard to admit, but, sometimes, it's the only way to learn a valuable lesson. Misunderstandings take patience and forgiveness. Suffering through dark, hurtful times, makes us appreciate the light that much more.
So, whether or not a fever helped Ryan "check in" all those years ago by reducing some of the hold autism had on his locus coeruleus, or whether the study I had read about became a sort of placebo, I will never know. What I do know, is back when Denial was my friend, I was terrified, I felt terribly lost and alone and the quick fix I was looking for wasn't to make Ryan "better" because he was not, and is not, sick, broken or diseased, the quick fix was for me. I was the one with the damage, the boo boo, the hurt. A hypochondriac mother who was so worried about finding that stupid unicorn, that I almost missed the beautiful, magnificent, colt galloping right in front of me.
As Ryan and I sat in the pediatrician's office (twice) last week, and my boy's temperature registered 103.7, he was the same Ryan he was before the fever. Ryan was brilliant as he assured the doctor that a strep test would not be needed since he felt fairly confident his "lungs had pneumonia" so the stethoscope was the only form of torture necessary. Ryan was anxious as he insisted (in a bossy, not terribly nice voice) on doing the flu swab in his nostril himself for fear the doctor would "poke" his brain then held the "contaminated" swab over his head refusing to give it to the doctor for fear she would "poke" him anyway. Ryan was proud that he survived the doctor's appointment with only a hint of tears and no shot or strep test. And Ryan was clever as he told me his blood sugar was dropping and convinced me that the only way to elevate it was via a Sheetz slushie.
With or without a fever, Ryan is AWEsome and just like a virus that has to "run it's course", autism will continue to run it's course throughout Ryan's lifetime. Some days, some situations, some moments, autism will be a bigger "symptom" than others. Some of the symptoms may disappear and be replaced with new symptoms, symptoms that may not show up on WebMD, leaving me completely at a loss. As I continue to watch Ryan grow, achieve and succeed, I am amazed at the fear that once held such a life altering grip on me. My fear, my unicorn searching, was all part of my journey that had to "run it's course" because without my mistakes, my worries, my obsessive Google searching, I would not be where I am today, therefore Ryan may not be where he is today either.
You see, as Ryan's mother, I am his placebo. I cannot make autism go away with a pill, a shot or an untreated fever (I swear I always give him Motrin), but, I can be the voice when Ryan can't find his words, I can be the advocate when Ryan is too scared or too confused to fight, I can find the support he needs to be successful and I can be the arms that squeeze him to let him know he is loved. I will always be Ryan's placebo, because on the days when life is hard, the days when his differences stand out, the days when his "symptoms" are more severe, as Ryan's mother, I will always be what makes him "feel better" and no, "feeling better" is not "all in his head", that my friends, is "all in his heart".
You see, as Ryan's mother, I am his placebo. I cannot make autism go away with a pill, a shot or an untreated fever (I swear I always give him Motrin), but, I can be the voice when Ryan can't find his words, I can be the advocate when Ryan is too scared or too confused to fight, I can find the support he needs to be successful and I can be the arms that squeeze him to let him know he is loved. I will always be Ryan's placebo, because on the days when life is hard, the days when his differences stand out, the days when his "symptoms" are more severe, as Ryan's mother, I will always be what makes him "feel better" and no, "feeling better" is not "all in his head", that my friends, is "all in his heart".
Chuckie Disease, I mean, Chuckie Cheese. A hypochondriac's worst nightmare.
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