Learning about the Autism Spectrum will be a process for me, but one thing has struck me as I listen; the variety and beauty of God’s design for humans is about as vivid, and, yes, as challenging as any human can imagine.
The following was sent in for you because I asked for help finding ways to let people know about living with Autism.
A day in the life of caring for a 25-year-old son with Autism
By Cynthia Matlock
Having an adult son with Autism is challenging and entertaining.
From a distance my son looks like a typical 6’, 220 lb young man about to cross your path until you question his sudden laughter, song, or repeating a phrase over and over again.
Each day requires thinking, predicting, and planning for behavior triggers that may cause a scene, especially when you go out in the public.
One day I drove to my local grocery store and told him to get out of the car.
He said he would stay in the car.
That’s good, I thought. If I hurry I will not have to worry about losing him in the store.
He loves to just walk around or put a bag of “hot fries” in my buggy.
So I went in, picked up a few things, checked out, and headed back to the car quickly.
When I got to the car he was gone. Imagine the panic.
My hope was he stayed in his routine, which is pacing the store or going to the restroom in the store.
“Routine” is important for those who live with Autism Spectrum. Changing their routine can be a major alteration or frustration to their day and your day.
Luckily he can read and goes in the correct facility, the men’s.
Being a lady, I asked the manager to check if my son was in the men’s restroom. The manager walked in the restroom briefly, came out, and informed me that he was still in there.
I waited outside the door about three or four minutes.
My son has an obsession of admiring himself in a mirror and smiling again and again. Impatiently, I cracked the door and shouted for him to hurry!
I then started walking toward the front of the store. Out the corner of my eye I saw the man, not my son, come out the bathroom.
Then, straight ahead I saw that my son was already going out the front door ahead of me to the car. Realizing my mix up, I made my escape quickly, hoping my flushed face didn’t show.
Oh boy, another day in the life of an adult with Autism.
Some days you just shake your head and smile.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Pee in the Cup
The last time I applied for a job a million years ago, no one asked me to pee in a cup.
For those of you who are retired and missed this phenomenon, now days, if you want a job with almost any big company, you have to submit to a drug test.
There was a time many moons ago, when you could look for a job without anyone even once recommending that you head to the potty. In fact, in those ancient days, people considered it poor etiquette to even mention the potty during an interview.
We even had euphemisms in the unlikely event that the subject could not possibly be avoided.
Like powder room. What a lovely concept!
Of course, powder was an extremely feminine luxury and putting powder on your nose was considered a complex and perplexing mystery.
Nothing at all like peeing in a cup. Which is pretty vulgar.
If you ask me, peeing in a cup is an incentive for keeping the job you’ve got.
While I was looking for a job, I applied at some temp agencies. I can write, but apparently I can’t type, so they never called me.
I was relieved. Not in the euphemistic sense.
Young people coming out of college seem to assume that peeing in a cup is just part of the process of landing their first big job. They have such good attitudes about the whole thing.
I try to tell myself that I should emulate their example, change with the times, accept what I cannot change.
And I will, too. Right after I write this column.
My goal is to write something that employers can give to their prospective employees along with all the proper medical forms, to acknowledge that, yes, the new system is really icky.
Imagine how happy I was to learn that peeing in the cup happens at a lab and not at the work place.
Picture yourself handing a cup of pee to your boss and you have the general concept. Try not to think about it.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
For those of you who are retired and missed this phenomenon, now days, if you want a job with almost any big company, you have to submit to a drug test.
There was a time many moons ago, when you could look for a job without anyone even once recommending that you head to the potty. In fact, in those ancient days, people considered it poor etiquette to even mention the potty during an interview.
We even had euphemisms in the unlikely event that the subject could not possibly be avoided.
Like powder room. What a lovely concept!
Of course, powder was an extremely feminine luxury and putting powder on your nose was considered a complex and perplexing mystery.
Nothing at all like peeing in a cup. Which is pretty vulgar.
If you ask me, peeing in a cup is an incentive for keeping the job you’ve got.
While I was looking for a job, I applied at some temp agencies. I can write, but apparently I can’t type, so they never called me.
I was relieved. Not in the euphemistic sense.
Young people coming out of college seem to assume that peeing in a cup is just part of the process of landing their first big job. They have such good attitudes about the whole thing.
I try to tell myself that I should emulate their example, change with the times, accept what I cannot change.
And I will, too. Right after I write this column.
My goal is to write something that employers can give to their prospective employees along with all the proper medical forms, to acknowledge that, yes, the new system is really icky.
Imagine how happy I was to learn that peeing in the cup happens at a lab and not at the work place.
Picture yourself handing a cup of pee to your boss and you have the general concept. Try not to think about it.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
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