Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Rain Man


I watched Rain Man at the movie theater in 1988, when I was in college. I was years away from marriage and children. I had never heard of autism beyond a few "freak show-styled" Savant stories that made me think, briefly, about the wonders of the human brain.

I never thought that it was really real -- real in the way that affects families, comes with facts, and creates lifetimes of challenges for people and their families.

I never thought it would affect me or anyone I knew.

I never thought I would live day in and day out with it.

I never thought I would love someone with it.

I never thought I would care.

I didn't expect that I would think twice about autism once I left the movie theater blinking against the sun, and wiping the popcorn grease down the legs of my pants, and heading home to start some studying.

Years later, after giving birth to two uncomplicated daughters ( there's an oxymoron if I ever heard one), I assumed my son, when they placed him in my arms, would grow up to do what boys do, from the beginning.

He would play Pee on Mom when I changed his diaper. He would turn Barbies into Guns, would toddle around pulling the cat's tail, and shadowing his daddy. He would grow up to play Tonka Trucks, Legos, Lincoln Logs, mud pies, and build forts and bike ramps.

I dreamed that I would nag him to wash behind his ears, pick up his socks, and put his skateboard away.

I thought I would spend time in the ER for stitches and broken bones.

I assumed he would play football, and soccer and baseball, and stroll down the school halls confident, funny, and a master of his words.

I assumed my son would protect his sisters, and pump iron, surf, and work on cars.

Not only do I remind him to wash behind his ears, I make "picture recipes" of the steps he needs to follow in order to take a shower, from closing the shower door, to using soap, to washing his hair with shampoo, not conditioner, to wet his hair and body before he uses the soap and shampoo and conditioner that so often confuse him. I tape this list, which is covered in clear plastic, to the outside of the shower, so he can follow it. If I don't switch the list regularly, or check on him, he still neglects several of the steps, most of the time. Taking a shower is actually pretty complicated, if you think about it. There is an order you must follow to take a shower to avoid flooding the bathroom, burning yourself, getting soap in your eyes, and finishing as dirty as you were when you started. And in our home, since five of us share one bathroom, there is a clean-up you must follow if you don't want to get nagged to death by two teenage girls.

Instead of protecting his sisters from lecherous guys, and otherwise rotten kids, he is protected by them, often fiercely. I remember calming a trembling 11 year old daughter who was begging to go to my son's school before the bell rang, so she could physically beat up the boy who had, the previous day, punched my son in the stomach and called him a "faggot."
She told me she would take a stint in Juvie any day for it. I believed she would have.

Although a love of team sports does not define all men, I know they make a lot of little boys very happy. I think it addresses something primal in them that relates to war play. I know it doesn't float everybody's boat, and I do not think less of a man or boy who does not play them or even enjoy them, they are a way for boys to move their bodies and stay fit. I believe this is important.
I don't expect that my son will ever play a team sport. His motor skills are terrible, for one thing, and he is largely unsuccessful when he even attempts to catch a ball. He also doesn't understand them. In order to understand a team sport, a person needs to be able to think of what others intentions are while thinking of their own short term goals, and short term and long term team goals:

If the ball is here, and I get it, I need to do this because if I don't than he might get it an be in a position to score, because last time, when we were in play here, he stole the ball and drove it straight in for a goal.

That's a lot to think about. I can't say my son will ever be able to do this.