Vindication… and Obligation

Posted by on May 25, 2012 | 1 comment

Vindication… and Obligation

It’s over.  Our long journey for a Canadian autism diagnosis has ended, and we are victorious.

So why am I so tired?

We went to our family diagnosis and funding meeting this week, girding ourselves for any outcome.  I wasn’t hiding my nerves well, so the wonderful doctor let us off the hook immediately.  Jack is on the spectrum, he has ASD.  We knew that, but there were no guarantees the team would agree.  Thankfully, they did, and now Jack is eligible for all the support that Canada and the British Columbian government have to offer.*

After she presented the official diagnosis, we met with a case worker who explained the funding process, and where to go now.  Unlike in California, where either the school district or the regional centers handled coordination of services, we will make most of the decisions ourselves.  It’s a bit confusing, but I’m glad we have a lot of experience in the autism world to guide us.

We sat in the car afterward, letting it all sink in.  I felt relief, I felt happiness… and I felt a weight bearing down on me.  My husband and I looked at each other.  We were both thinking the same thing.

Jack is special.  Jack has always gotten exactly what he’s needed, and then some.  But other children are special, too.  Our monumental task is over, but our – my – biggest job is just beginning.

Since Jack was diagnosed, before even, he has had the full support of everyone charged with his care.  We call him the “poster child for early intervention”, and it really is quite true.  Every step of the way, he’s had exactly the therapy he’s needed, the support he’s required, and the attention he’s deserved.  Here in BC, where his school has not yet received a penny for his support during the year and a half we’ve waited for his diagnosis, Jack has had a full-time special education assistant (SEA).**  Even though we have occasionally had to wait, Jack still prevails in the end.

I know many, many families in the autism community, and their stories are all different.  There are children who are lower functioning, there are children who are high functioning.  There are children with asperger’s, and children with PDD.  The spectrum is wide, and so are the services they’re receiving.  I would love to say every child is getting exactly what they need, but that simply isn’t true.

I know children who are not supported in school, and children who have had to leave school because of it.  I know children who need speech therapy or occupational therapy or sensory integration therapy, but linger on waitlists or are simply denied due to lack of funding.  I know children who have waited years for an accurate diagnosis, without which they cannot even get on those waitlists.

I won’t say we’ve had an embarrassment of riches when it comes to Jack’s therapies, interventions and supports, as he’s needed and deserved every one.  But that feeling lingers when I speak with parents so desperate for even a fraction of what we’ve had.  It pulls at my heart and puts a fire in my gut.

The weight I feel is obligation.  I cannot allow my fight to end with Jack.  He is my child and it’s my duty to advocate for him, but someone needs to stand up and speak for those who are not as fortunate, for whatever reason.  Autism is many things: daunting, confusing, challenging, and oftentimes inspiring.  What autism need never be, though, is a tragedy.  Every single child and individual on the spectrum deserves the chance to be the best they can possibly be, through therapies, interventions, supports, or whatever it takes. Every family touched by autism deserves to know they’re not alone on their journey.

Jack and I have completed this leg in our marathon, and we have every intention of winning the whole thing.  We also intend to take as many with us as we are able.  We can, and we will.

Swinging into the future...

 

“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
Eleanor Roosevelt,

**************************************

*Which isn’t a whole lot, honestly, but that’s another topic for another post.

**I was quite pleased to take in his diagnosis paperwork yesterday, which will now entitle his school to $18,000 a year specifically for his support.

 

Share this: Twitter | StumbleUpon | Facebook | digg | reddit | eMail