Archives for February 2011

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Good News In Troubled Times

February 28, 2011 By

This morning I received a very nice email. I knew it would be a nice email because it had the word “Congratulations!” in the subject line. Complete with the exclamation point. It is reasonable to assume that an email with a “Congratulations” and a “!” in the subject line won’t be about anything bad.

The email was to inform me that my bid for a writing job had been accepted. In other words, someone read my portfolio (comprised largely of articles from this blog), liked what they saw, and now wants to pay me to write an article for them. Not only did I win the bid, I beat out sixteen other people. And here’s the kicker. It’s the first bid I placed. EVER!

At a time when my self-confidence and my self-esteem are both at a low ebb, this is welcome news indeed.

I have been going through some rough times lately. Not falling-off-a-cliff rough, but falling-down-and-spraining-an-ankle rough. I will get through it – I have handled a lot worse than this and survived. But at this moment in time, while the bad burny stuff is happening, my nerves are shot and my digestive system is in flitters.

The idea that someone thinks that I have something of value to offer is like a soothing balm to a deeply troubled soul. It’s like a vitamin pill for that weakened self-esteem.

The fact that this is a job I can definitely handle, and do very well at, is like an energy boost for the self-confidence that has been flagging.

Maybe this will be just the thing I’ve been needing to get back on my feet and climb over the obstacles that are in my way.

At the very least, it will give me the strength to take a few baby-steps forward.

Filed Under: Writing Tagged With: , , , , ,
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Good News In Troubled Times

February 28, 2011 By

This morning I received a very nice email. I knew it would be a nice email because it had the word “Congratulations!” in the subject line. Complete with the exclamation point. It is reasonable to assume that an email with a “Congratulations” and a “!” in the subject line won’t be about anything bad.

The email was to inform me that my bid for a writing job had been accepted. In other words, someone read my portfolio (comprised largely of articles from this blog), liked what they saw, and now wants to pay me to write an article for them. Not only did I win the bid, I beat out sixteen other people. And here’s the kicker. It’s the first bid I placed. EVER!

At a time when my self-confidence and my self-esteem are both at a low ebb, this is welcome news indeed.

I have been going through some rough times lately. Not falling-off-a-cliff rough, but falling-down-and-spraining-an-ankle rough. I will get through it – I have handled a lot worse than this and survived. But at this moment in time, while the bad burny stuff is happening, my nerves are shot and my digestive system is in flitters.

The idea that someone thinks that I have something of value to offer is like a soothing balm to a deeply troubled soul. It’s like a vitamin pill for that weakened self-esteem.

The fact that this is a job I can definitely handle, and do very well at, is like an energy boost for the self-confidence that has been flagging.

Maybe this will be just the thing I’ve been needing to get back on my feet and climb over the obstacles that are in my way.

At the very least, it will give me the strength to take a few baby-steps forward.

Filed Under: Writing Tagged With: , , , , ,
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Overcoming The Bad Stuff: 19 March 2010

February 27, 2011 By

As I attempt to patch together bits of my life that feel as if they are falling apart, I find myself unable to write. This is a re-post from last year. In fact, this was only the third or fourth post in the life of Running For Autism. I’ll see you tomorrow, emotional Band-Aids and all.

 

2010 did not exactly start off well for me.  In early December, I had suffered from a strep throat infection, during which I had only been able to lie down comfortably in one position for three days.  This resulted in some stiffness in my neck and upper back.  It was not crippling, merely uncomfortable, and my chiropractor was helping me out with it.  The day before New Years Eve, a chiropractic adjustment went horribly wrong.  I had excruciating shooting pains in my back and going all the day down my left arm.  The fingers in my hand went numb. While everyone else was out partying it up the following night, I was sitting on the couch writhing in agony. I missed the New Years Day Resolution Run – something that I had been looking forward to for weeks.

Over the next month, I went to the Emergency Room twice, was seen by five different doctors, and got four different prescriptions for drugs.  I cried myself to sleep each night because I was in so much pain, and I appropriated the kids’ giant stuffed gorilla because it was just the right size for me to rest my arm on.  I was taking Percocet for the pain every six hours, and when the pain between doses got too much for me to bear, I was taking Tylenol Three as well.

For a month I could barely stand up, let alone run. In the end, it was the folks at Toronto SEMI (Sports and Exercise Medicine Institute) who saved me from insanity.  The doctor there told me what I had suspected, which is that I had a pinched nerve.  The pinched nerves always get resolved, he said, and it could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to a few months.  I immediately started seeing one of the physiotherapists at SEMI, and within days I was starting to feel relief.  After two weeks, she told me I could try running again.  Two weeks after that, I was in full-on training mode again, and feeling great.

As soon as I had gotten back on my feet, though, I was struck down again.  I caught a cold, and the cold turned into something a lot worse.  I had a hacking cough, I had a fever that came and went, I was weak.  I was so sick that I was off work for two weeks, and was not allowed back without producing a doctor’s note certifying that I didn’t have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. During this time, I was not able to run for three weeks.

Last weekend marked the end of this three-week drought.  I got up on Sunday morning, and although I was still coughing a bit and somewhat congested, I decided to give it a try. It went surprisingly well – slower than I would have liked, but considering all I’d been through over the last three months, I didn’t mind.  I was just happy that I was out on the road again.

On Tuesday I went for a lunchtime run.  Due to time constraints, my weekday runs cannot really be longer than 5km, but that’s still enough for a good workout.  About 500m into the run, my hair band snapped.  Not a good thing – I have quite a lot of hair.  I ran almost 5km with my hair streaming out behind me.  It reminded me of those movies about horses, where the horses are running across meadows with the hair on their tails flowing behind them in the wind.  That’s what I felt like.  A horse’s ass.  I had also misjudged the weather that day, so I was overdressed.  Hair flying every which way plus clothes that are too hot leads to a run that is uncomfortable and cumbersome.  I was not happy with my pace or the fact that my heart rate was reaching the stratosphere.

My next run was on Thursday.  I almost left my running clothes at home that day, because I had had zero sleep on Wednesday night and did not rate my chances for a good run.  But you never know, so I took my gym bag to work, not really expecting to use it.  Come lunchtime, I still felt like the undead, but knowing from past experience how a run can actually have healing powers, I suited up and hit the road.  My clothes were appropriate and my hair band stayed intact.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and I had a fantastic run.  Although the “pace buddy” on my training watch still beat me, my pace was a lot better than it had been on Tuesday.  My heart rate stayed within reasonable levels.  When I reached the end of the 5km, I could have continued.  It was one of those runs that reminds me why I love running.

I am planning another 5km run for tomorrow morning, and a longer one for Sunday.  I am looking forward to my 10km race on April 3rd.  I am hopeful that I will stay healthy this time.  I have to.  After all, there are only 190 days to my next run for autism.

Filed Under: Illness, Injury, running Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,
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This Too Shall Pass

February 26, 2011 By

From time to time, my mind goes into a dark place. The reasons why are not important – well they are, but since I only blog about them anonymously, in a whole other place, they are not important for the purposes of this blog. Suffice it to say that sometimes I get plunged into this darkness, and it can be a struggle to come out.  Many late nights and early mornings find me wandering restlessly around the house while everyone else is sleeping, trying to outpace the darkness and bring myself back to – well, at the risk of sounding like a hippy, back to a happy place.

Sometimes, when I feel bad, I have an almost irresistible compulsion to go for a hectic run, no matter what time it is. It’s a compulsion I have to fight, of course, because it wouldn’t be safe. Even in the midst of the darkness, I never completely lose my common sense.

At the end of the day, what gets me through is the fact that despite this periodic bleakness, I am a natural optimist. There was only one time in my life – a long time ago – when I could truly say that I lost all hope. Apart from that one terrible time, I have always lived by the credo that no matter what is going on, this too shall pass. I have a permanent assumption that all bad times are temporary. Sometimes they may last for longer than I would think reasonable, but they always – eventually – pass. And when they do, I am hopefully a stronger and wiser person for it.

At times my life has taken the scenic route. There has been rough terrain along the way, and sometimes I have fallen down and I haven’t been able to get up right away. But I’ve never been one to just lay down on the side of the trail and give up. I’ve gathered my strength and forced myself to surge forward, sometimes at a sprint, other times at a snail’s pace. As long as I am moving forward, I am going in the right direction.

The thing is, when I get through those rough patches, the view I get at the end of it can be absolutely spectacular.

No matter what makes me fall, it’s always – ALWAYS – worth my while to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going.

I just can’t seem to shed the baggage I collect along the way.

Filed Under: life Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,
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This Too Shall Pass

February 26, 2011 By

From time to time, my mind goes into a dark place. The reasons why are not important – well they are, but since I only blog about them anonymously, in a whole other place, they are not important for the purposes of this blog. Suffice it to say that sometimes I get plunged into this darkness, and it can be a struggle to come out.  Many late nights and early mornings find me wandering restlessly around the house while everyone else is sleeping, trying to outpace the darkness and bring myself back to – well, at the risk of sounding like a hippy, back to a happy place.

Sometimes, when I feel bad, I have an almost irresistible compulsion to go for a hectic run, no matter what time it is. It’s a compulsion I have to fight, of course, because it wouldn’t be safe. Even in the midst of the darkness, I never completely lose my common sense.

At the end of the day, what gets me through is the fact that despite this periodic bleakness, I am a natural optimist. There was only one time in my life – a long time ago – when I could truly say that I lost all hope. Apart from that one terrible time, I have always lived by the credo that no matter what is going on, this too shall pass. I have a permanent assumption that all bad times are temporary. Sometimes they may last for longer than I would think reasonable, but they always – eventually – pass. And when they do, I am hopefully a stronger and wiser person for it.

At times my life has taken the scenic route. There has been rough terrain along the way, and sometimes I have fallen down and I haven’t been able to get up right away. But I’ve never been one to just lay down on the side of the trail and give up. I’ve gathered my strength and forced myself to surge forward, sometimes at a sprint, other times at a snail’s pace. As long as I am moving forward, I am going in the right direction.

The thing is, when I get through those rough patches, the view I get at the end of it can be absolutely spectacular.

No matter what makes me fall, it’s always – ALWAYS – worth my while to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going.

I just can’t seem to shed the baggage I collect along the way.

Filed Under: life Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,
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Another World

February 25, 2011 By

My son James, who is all of five years old, has a wonderful imagination. When he’s lying in bed at night, after the lights have been turned off, I lie down beside him and as he snuggles up against me, he and I come up with bedtime stories. Well, James comes up with the basic plot, and I just turn said plot into a coherent tale.

Here is last night’s story:

Once upon a time, there was a little boy whose name was James. James was a very good boy who loved his family, did a great job putting his toys away at the end of the day, and gave lots of hugs to his big brother George.

And so one day a giant magic toucan came to see James. The magic toucan said, “James, you have been a very good boy. You ate all your dinner and put your toys away, and you’ve been super-nice to your brother. And so I am going to take you on a special trip.”

James climbed onto the toucan’s back, and the toucan took off and started flying. Together, James and the toucan flew over the fields and oceans, going higher and higher into the sky. They went so high that they went all the way into space. But James was not afraid. The toucan was a magic toucan and he would keep James safe.

After flying for a long time, James and the magic toucan landed gently on another world. It was a planet of brilliant green grass that was soft to walk on, white beaches where the sand wasn’t too hot, and blue, blue seas. There were beautiful flowers and many, many butterflies of all colours. Even though it was daytime on this world, when James looked at the sky he would see twinkling stars that looked like diamonds, and far, far away, he could see the Earth that he had just come from.

On the grass there was a picnic table made of gold, and on the table there were all of James’ favourite foods. There was pizza, and sandwiches, and chicken nuggets, and fruit, and ice cream. There was apple juice, milk and hot chocolate.

As James looked at the picnic table, he heard the sound of children laughing, and then he saw his friends running towards him. James and his friends sat down at the table and ate the delicious food, and drank the delicious drinks. As they ate and drank, they talked and laughed and had a great time together.

When the meal was done, James and his friends went to play on the beach. They frolicked in the water and built magnificent sand castles. They ran around, playing tag and having races.

All the time, the magic toucan was there, making sure the children were safe and having a good time.

Eventually, it was time for James to go home. He said goodbye to his friends, and then the magic toucan took James around the corner, where James saw the biggest slide he had ever seen. The slide had walls going all the way around, and little windows in the walls.

James climbed into the entrance of the slide, counted to three, and off he went! Down, down, down the slide went, turning this way and that. James had a fantastic time on the slide, and he looked out of the little windows as he went down. The slide went all the way back down through space, and ended – in James’ bedroom!

When James came out of the bottom of the slide, he landed right in his bed, and his Mommy was there to put the blankets over him and tuck him in. James was so tired from his adventures, and he drifted off to sleep and had beautiful dreams about all of the wonderful things he had seen and done.

The end.

Filed Under: Children, Imagination Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Starting A Snowball Effect

February 24, 2011 By

From time to time, I find myself asking the following question: Why am I here?

Sometimes, when I am in a particularly bleak frame of mind, this train of thought leads me straight into a downward spiral, and I then have a hell of job trying to climb back out.

Other times, though, I can ask this question and come up with an answer (or answers) that make me feel – well, good about who I am. Because, you know, I think I’m quite a nice person. Not that I’m the type to blow my own trumpet or anything.

I am here to make a difference, to help make the world a better place. If my presence on this earth changes just one life for the better, then I think that maybe I’ll have done OK. I like to think that my immediate circle – my family and my close friends – are enriched by the fact that I am in their lives.

I try to instill positive values in my kids, to set them up for happy and productive lives in which they, in turn, can have a positive influence on those around them.

I am a strong supporter and advocate for the autism community. I run a race every year to raise funds for autism services, and I try to spread awareness and acceptance for people like my beautiful boy George. I also try to ease James’ path as sibling to a child with autism, to allow him to balance care and concern for his brother with his own need for independence and identity as a human being in his own right.

As Gerard’s partner, I try to make a difference in the lives of the youth in our community. I support Gerard in his endeavours to keep teens away from a life of crime and gangsterism, to steer them into avenues where they can have a more positive outlet for their creative energy.

When someone I love needs advice or support, I try to be there for them as much as I  can. I have a genuine love and concern for my family and friends, and it gives me joy to help them through troubled times.

When a friend’s baby dies, there is very little I can do to ease the pain, apart from making sure my friend knows I am there, and offering whatever support I can. There is no way to get anything positive out of that kind of tragedy.

Or… is there?

On January 20th, I donated blood for the first time, in honour of Capt. Snuggles, an eight-month-old baby who was fighting for his life. Four days later, I wept – even sitting at my workstation where other people could see me, I openly wept – as I read the devastating news that Capt. Snuggles had slipped from this world into the next.

A couple of weeks later, I started pondering the question: if I started the chain of events, how many people could I get to donate blood, in memory of Capt. Snuggles, over a five-day period? After running my idea by Amy, the brave, brave Mom of Capt. Snuggles, and after receiving her blessing (and some really valuable advice), I am now officially launching the campaign.

The Captain Snuggles Blood Drive.

From 9:00 a.m. Eastern Time on April 4th until 8:00 p.m. Eastern Time on April 8th, I am inviting everyone who is medically eligible to roll up their sleeves and give a unit of blood in memory of Capt. Snuggles. No matter where you are geographically located, please consider going to your local blood donor clinic in the first week of April to start in motion a sequence of actions that could save someone’s life.

I am relying on word of mouth here, so I need everyone’s help. Please spread the word. Repost, reblog, tweet, talk – please do whatever you can to let the people in your life know about this drive. Let’s work together to create a snowball effect that would make actual snowballs look like lazy amateurs.

Together, let’s save lives.

Currently, there are three ways for you to sign up:

  1. Respond to the Facebook event that has been set up.
  2. Send an email to captsnugglesblooddrive@gmail.com
  3. Leave a comment on this post, but make sure there is some way for me to contact you.

If you sign up, you will receive regular news updates and information, and I will even help you find a blood donor clinic convenient to you. Once your donation has been made, I will ask you to let me know, and you will be added to what will hopefully be the giant number of people who made a giant difference in honour of an incredibly brave, tough baby.

This blood drive is not going to diminish the tragedy of Capt. Snuggles’ plight, or the grieving of his family.

What it will do, though, is this. It will allow Capt. Snuggles to live on through the good that we will do for other families who need life, who need hope.

Together, let’s see what difference we can make.

Filed Under: Bereavement, Blood donation, Giving Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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Wordless Wednesday – Brothers

February 23, 2011 By

Someone once told me that you know an idea is good when someone steals it. I am stealing the Wordless Wednesday idea from my friend Amy. I hope she doesn’t mind and that she feels flattered!

There is something special about the bond between brothers, and for today’s post, I want to offer you some pictures of my two boys – very special brothers indeed.

Driving Lessons (2007)

Sleeping Beauties (2007)

Winter Fun! (2008)

Drinking Buddies (2008)

All Aboard Thomas The Train! (2008)

Water Play (2010)

The Greatest Love Of All (2010)

Filed Under: Brothers, Photography Tagged With: , , , ,
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Wordless Wednesday – Brothers

February 23, 2011 By

Someone once told me that you know an idea is good when someone steals it. I am stealing the Wordless Wednesday idea from my friend Amy. I hope she doesn’t mind and that she feels flattered!

There is something special about the bond between brothers, and for today’s post, I want to offer you some pictures of my two boys – very special brothers indeed.

Driving Lessons (2007)

Sleeping Beauties (2007)

Winter Fun! (2008)

Drinking Buddies (2008)

All Aboard Thomas The Train! (2008)

Water Play (2010)

The Greatest Love Of All (2010)

Filed Under: Brothers, Photography Tagged With: , , , ,
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Hat Boy

February 22, 2011 By

Me and my Hat Boy

George has a thing about hats. He wears them all the time, even when he goes to bed. We have succeeded in getting him to take it off at bathtime, and both the school and the therapy centre have him remove it for his periods of instruction. But when he is at home, the hat is always on his head.

It’s not just any old hat, either. George is very picky about his hats – he will only wear his hat, and if his hat is not available, things in my household get very noisy and fraught as we struggle to keep him from banging his head in frustration. From time to time we have to switch out the old hat for a new one, because – well, you know – George is seven, and seven-year-olds have this habit of growing really fast.

The “new hat days” are traumatic for the entire family, so we tend to hold on to the current hat until the seams start to pop.

However, with age comes wisdom, and we have learned that whenever it’s time for a new hat, we have to get two that are the same. That way, when one starts smelling a bit ripe, we can throw it into the washing machine and let George wear the other one.

We suspect that George wears the hat to gain that slight feeling of pressure around his head. Kids with autism are frequently big on physical pressure, and George definitely falls into that category. He climbs onto the back of the couch and jumps from there onto the floor, because he craves the deep pressure input to his feet and legs. It would make sense for him to want pressure around his head as well.

In addition, though, I think George wears the hat in order to protect his head from being touched. He really, really, REALLY does not like people touching his head. He allows me to remove his hat and stroke his head, or run my fingers through his hair, but after just a few seconds he gets antsy and squirms away.

This is a problem.

For a start, there’s the practical problem of hair-washing. I don’t wash George’s hair as often as I should, because it is just so stressful for him. Hair-washing is a joint effort between me and Gerard, and it has to be planned with military precision, right down to getting my mother-in-law to whisk James away for the duration. Basically, what happens is that I wait until George isn’t watching, and then I fill a plastic basin with water and lay a shower curtain on the kitchen floor. Then Gerard uses his arms and legs to immobilize a screaming George, and I wash his hair as quickly as humanly possible.

It sounds barbaric, and I always feel so bad that I end up in floods of tears, but it is the only way we can wash his hair.

When people hear of the difficulties, they say to me, “Just keep his hair short”. If only it were that simple. This kid won’t let us wash his hair normally – why would anyone assume that he will let us anywhere near him with a pair of scissors or any other haircutting device?

Cutting his hair is as traumatic as washing it. So what I have to do is creep around my own house in the dark like a burglar, gingerly remove George’ s hat from his head, and then tentatively cut whatever bits of it that I can reach while he is sleeping. Sometimes it takes up to two weeks to complete a haircut because George tends to lie down the same way every night.

We may be making progress, though, thanks to the wonderful folks at the therapy centre that George spends four mornings a week at.

The therapists had me complete a sensitivity questionaire, describing the issues with washing and cutting his hair, and two weeks ago they started a desensitization program. This morning George’s therapy supervisor called me to give me an update.

“We combed his hair,” she said.

“What, ALL of it?” I asked, incredulously. Usually my hair-combing attempts have to be aborted, so each day I start on a different side of his head, just to ensure full coverage every two days.

“All of it,” said the supervisor. She went on to tell me that she had put ear-muffs on George, and that this seemed to help with the sensitivity around his ears.

“He kept on ear-muffs?” I asked. Not sounding very intelligent at this point. Think Village Idiot.

“AND,” continued the supervisor, “We have sprayed his entire head with leave-in conditioner.”

Holy bat, Crapman! Who is this short person and what has he done with my son?

So, it would appear that the desensitization program is working like a charm. It will still be a long time before we can actually wash his hair normally, or cut it while he is awake, but with baby-steps, we will get there.

The staff at the therapy centre are absolutely incredible. Thanks to them, George will be ready for discharge into full-time school (with special ed support) by September.

He might be ready.

Me, not so much.

Filed Under: autism, Hair, Sensory Issues Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
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