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Grandparenting / Health
“Did God Make Michael Wrong?”
A Grandmother’s Introduction to Autism

By Sheila S. Hudson
Mar/Apr 2009

The first time I heard the word autism was on a television program in the 1980s. Dr. Donald Westphall of “St. Elsewhere” had a son with autism. Locked inside his own world, Tommy Westphall was neither verbal nor affectionate. His entire demeanor was non-responsive.

With no other reference, I had a difficult time accepting Dr. Pakula’s diagnosis. How could our beloved grandson have autism? It sounded like a death sentence, but what else could it be?

Michael wasn’t verbal. Up until 19 months, he had developed normally. He then “lost” his words. At the same time, he discontinued eye contact and seemed unaware of his surroundings. I feared that Michael might have a hearing impairment. Deafness was one thing, but autism? Could the doctors be right? And more importantly, if they were, where did we go from there?

The weeks following the initial diagnosis were filled with tests. I went with my daughter to have an EEG to determine Michael’s brain waves. Holding a wiggly, nearly two-year-old with electrodes pasted onto his scalp for an hour is not an easy task even for the most creative. But I wanted to be there, both for my own enlightenment and to support my daughter. We took turns playing with toys, singing songs, reading books and inventing games to keep Michael from dislodging the electrodes. We prayed that the battery of testing would show something, but the tests were inconclusive.

They tested Michael’s blood and hearing, checked for tumors, cancer and performed an endless array of psychological, physical and neurological examinations. All the while, Michael did not talk, nor did he make eye contact. He never smiled, threw temper tantrums, flapped his arms or toddled in circles. Worst of all, he was more apt to embrace a stranger than a family member.

Because Michael’s pediatrician arranged for testing with Dr. Pakula, his acceptance at the Emory Center was accelerated. This put Michael on the fast track and enabled an early evaluation in a matter of weeks. God’s hand was upon us because the waiting list is now up to a year.

Therapy came in waves. Our daughter and son-in-law took classes in Floor Time therapy and spent all of their resources providing home schooling, speech therapy, hippotherapy, Floor Time activities and repetitive measures to reinforce language and social behaviors. The family encouraged Michael to use words rather than pointing. Michael’s parents joined support groups and organized informational cells that provided encouragement for others in their situation.

One Spring Break, I accompanied Michael to hippotherapy and was amazed at the rapport he had with large animals. Midnight, the therapy horse selected for Michael, held no fear for my grandson. He stroked the large stallion while murmuring in his ear before being saddled and strapped in with the trainer who walked alongside.

Michael’s diagnosis revealed a world that I never knew existed – a realm filled with children struggling to communicate, accompanied by parents and grandparents seeking answers and hope. They are just like me.

The ASD spectrum is an umbrella with many aspects: Pervasive Developmental Disorders (PDD), apraxia, echolalia, Asperger’s syndrome, along with various expressive, receptive and sensory disorders. Like a web of ever-spiraling tunnels, parents unravel one mystery only to find another.
Michael is now 6 years old. He attends a regular kindergarten class. He rides the school bus, eats lunch at school, plays video games, reads age-appropriate library books and enjoys a well-rounded life. Michael’s special needs are part of who he is. Accepting him entails accepting all of him.
Michael’s diagnosis rocked our world. We were unprepared for where it would lead us. At dinner one evening, Michael’s brother asked, “Did God make Michael wrong?”

We drew a collective deep breath, but his father wisely answered, “No, son. Michael is exactly how God wanted him to be.”

Michael is coming full circle, and so are we.

Sheila S. Hudson is a travel columnist for Athens Banner Herald, contributor for several publications and past President of Southeastern Writers of America. She and her husband, Tim, are the proud grandparents of seven grandsons, known as the “magnificent seven.”

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