Dear valued readers, thanks so much for tuning in to the latest episode of Luke’s autism saga. Sorry it’s been so long since my last post, but life got in the way. I got everything squared away, so I can pledge now to be more consistent. A quick recap: Luke is my three-year-old nonverbal autistic son. I took him to Dr. Richard Layton, a physician who specializes in allergies. Dr Layton told me that Luke did not talk because he could not hear. I informed the doctor that Luke had had a hearing test done, which revealed normal hearing, and had had tubes placed his ears. The doctor told me that the tubes were clogged, and that his little ears were full of fluid. The doctor said that sound bounced off of the fluid, and that is why Luke was nonverbal, because he couldn’t hear. He placed Luke on ear drops, and six weeks later Luke said his first word, which was “mama.”
Needless to say, I was thrilled, and certain that he was on the road to recovery! We left that school for autistic children, and I enrolled him in a typically-developing preschool in our hometown.
My hopes were dashed quickly. The words started flowing from Luke’s mouth, which was wonderful, since it meant that he was no longer a nonverbal autistic child, but, unfortunately, he was still very much autistic. His hyperactivity escalated until he was a whirling dervish of aberrant behavior. He would furiously hand-flap and finger-snap as he raced across the room, hurling himself against the wall. He would then turn around and run into the other wall, bouncing off it. He started humming in a monotonous tone, droning on and on and on until I thought I would go mad.
It was around this time that my husband checked out of our house, and, apparently, our marriage, and I had to deal with Luke as a single mother. But that is a whole nuther story.
Luke had celebrated his fourth birthday, and cranked up his hyperactivity to a whole new level. His screams would echo down the hall as he threw tantrums that would appear out of nowhere. My stress level skyrocketed until I was a bundle of jangling nerves.
In desperation I called Dr. Layton and asked him to call in a prescription for Ritalin, a drug used to treat ADHD, or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, to our local pharmacy. He was hesitant to at first due to Luke’s tender age, but I pleaded with him, telling him that I was losing my mind, and that my husband had dipped out because he couldn’t handle the stress. The doctor acquiesced, and started Luke on a low dose.
The Ritalin stopped Luke in his tracks. But his hyperactivity was replaced with crying spells. He would start crying as soon as he woke up in the morning, continuing along the way to school, and did not end until he fell asleep at night. I would hold him and rock him, telling him that he would be okay, to no avail.
After about a week of this, Luke woke up one morning, looked me square in the eye, and said, “I’m depressed.” I sent him off to school and called Dr. Layton. He stopped the Ritalin and started Luke on Adderall, another drug used to treat ADHD.
The crying stopped, replaced with an eerie calm. A week later Luke came up to me, placed his tiny hand in mine, and said, “I want to kill myself.”
That was the last drug I ever had my son take.
I took Luke off of the Adderall, and decided to tough it out. We experienced highs and lows for the next few years, albeit more lows than highs, but, at least, he wasn’t talking about suicide anymore, and the crying had stopped for good.
One frigid winter’s day we pulled up in our yard and I stared at the old well as I turned off the ignition. A light went off in my head, as if someone had flipped a switch and illuminated a path for me. I realized then what was wrong with Luke, and what had killed his twin.
Stay tuned…
Latest posts by scarlett (see all)
- Calling All Employers - September 5, 2021
- Can Heavy Metals Cause Autism? - August 29, 2021
- Transitioning Towards Living Independently as an Autistic Adult - July 18, 2021
