Not having autism myself, I can't attest to the accuracy of this audio clip. What I can say is that it supports what I see in my son, that is, someone who finds the world distracting and loud. Tip: To play the clip below, hover your mouse over the black box until you see the "play" icon. It's a blank YouTube video.
The Tranquility of Symmetry
September brought a lot of change: new school, new routines, new therapies, and many new people. C deals pretty well with transitions, but when things are really topsy-turvy, and stimming just isn't getting the job done, he'll often return to his old routines—like lining things up. And that's okay.
98
Above: a nighttime, deep sleep oxygen reading of 98%
C has not had any supplemental oxygen in over a month, and he's doing great! The school nurse checks his O2 levels every day, and we check them at night when he's in a deep slumber, the time when oxygen levels often drop. His levels are always 97% or above. As a point of reference, anything above 94% is considered healthy.
According to his last pulmonary function test, his lungs still have room to improve. In terms of oxygen delivery, however, they're getting the job done! If we can make it through flu season with no setbacks, it should be smooth sailing henceforth.
Swim Class
After a few weeks off, swim classes begin again today. Since children with autism drown at four to ten times the rate of non-autistic children, this is for safety as well as fun.
School, Separation, and Loss
C waits for the school bus.
It's not been easy for me to accept that the twins are going to separate schools now. C seems fine with it, while M pleads with us to let him go to C's school. I guess it represents for me an undeniable divergence in their life paths. While I've come to accept that this is what's best, it still pains me.
Upon reflection I realized why: I lost my younger brother when I was just a little older than my boys are now. Despite my young age at the time, I've always felt the void left by his death.
I've had dreams where he's reappeared, sometimes as a grown man, others how I remember him last. His absence has been a fundamental part of my life's reality. Call it survivor's guilt or whatever you like, I know what it's like to lose a sibling (two, actually), so I have to remind myself that this isn't the same thing. My boys aren't losing one another. They're just spending a few hours a day apart.
Maybe the absence will bring them closer. Whatever the case, this is what has to be for now.