Sleep Apnea and Other Issues by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I’m sure I mentioned that my cat has taken to waking me up in the middle of the night. For a while there I thought I would never get a decent night’s sleep again.

But one night I was having trouble getting comfortable and I ended up sleeping propped up in more of a sitting position. And Patches didn’t jump on me once that night! That isn’t to say he didn’t wake me up; he did, right around the time he decided he needed his breakfast.

Here is the difference; three or four times a night, he had been jumping onto me from my desk. Once in the pre-dawn hours, he would crawl onto me meowing and pushing his nose into my nose. He is still doing that. If I sleep in a more inclined position, he doesn’t jump on me.

Problem solved, right?

Around this time, I kept waking up with a headache, and I always seemed tired. I finally decided I needed to revisit the idea of a sleep study.

I wasn’t looking forward to this, because I’d tried it once before years ago while Tom was still alive. I didn’t sleep one wink hooked up to all those cables. Now though they can do the study with fewer cables and it is possible to do it at home.

It took some doing, and getting the appointment to get the device took some time, but I finally got the sleep study done.

They were slow to contact me about the results, but they finally called to set up an appointment for me to come in and learn the results.

So I went to the appointment, and the professional I talked to informed me that I stopped breathing three times that night!

Patches jumped on me three times that night!

Yeah, that’s right. Patches jumps on me when I stop breathing.

I did mention that he doesn’t jump on me when I sleep propped up, and she said that made sense, and suggested I do that until all the red tape is cut and I get a C-PAP machine.

At least Patches doesn’t wake me up as often that way.

In other news, I have been having a ton of financial issues these past several months, mostly due to how many days I missed work due to not getting enough sleep the night before. But it hadn’t been just that.

I missed several days because I put one or both knees out and I couldn’t walk. I missed at least one day because my blood sugar went sky-high on me. When my neighbor came to check on me, she thought what I needed was orange juice.

FYI, orange juice or candy is used when the blood sugar is too low; when it is too high, avoid carbs altogether and have protein.

Also, when it is too low, you are dizzy, faint, and woozy; when it is too high, you have dry heaves and you are sweaty, maybe also dizzy. There is a difference. I promise giving someone carbs or sugar in this case would only make matters worse.

Now my financial issues aren’t as easy to handle, though things are looking up. I paid off one credit card in December thanks to a generous gift from some friends. I paid off another bill last month, which was a big help because it was the highest monthly payment I had. And I am working on not missing so much work.

Of course, that is the hard part. I am still having issues with sleep. I don’t just have sleep apnea; I also have insomnia issues.

It turns out I am on the spectrum, and insomnia is a common problem for those of us on the spectrum. And here I just thought it was a family problem. Dad and our brother Bryon had problems with it too.

Has anybody mentioned that Autism most likely has a genetic component? And yes, they have.

The myth that it is caused by vaccines is bunk, but it is a fact that it is often hereditary.

By the way, I only received one vaccine as a kid, and I was displaying what is now known as clear signs of Autism long before grade school. And I know I have mentioned all my stims before.

Now I am wondering why I don’t write a character that is on the spectrum. That is certainly something I do know. And I might just do it eventually, or I might add some detail to an already existing character to make that person on the spectrum.

I’m thinking I should make the character female to help spread the work that isn’t a male-only problem.

Anyway, happy writing everyone! 

Autism And Me by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

This last week my niece, Claire, received the official diagnosis she is on the Spectrum. This has been quite a journey for our family.

I can’t remember how long ago it was, a couple of years at least, if not more, but Claire sent her mother (Konnie) an article about adult women who are on the spectrum. Claire sent it to Konnie because she felt the article described herself and she wanted her mother’s opinion. Konnie read the article and found more that described me than it did Claire.

This is not to say that it didn’t describe Claire, it’s just that I do more of the things it listed.

Within a couple of months of reading that article, I went to a psychiatrist who asked me a ton of questions, noted my answers, and sure enough I am on the Spectrum.

Claire had a harder time finding someone who would evaluate her.

Anyway, each time I read more about adult women who have gone undiagnosed and or unrecognized as being on the spectrum, I find something I did or still do.

I have previously mentioned how my mother made excuses for me not looking people in the eye, and my stepmother yelled at me for playing with my hair while I was studying, but I’ve done some other things that were obvious signs.

I recently came across this meme:

Me: I’m Autistic.

My parents: There were no signs.

Me as a child:

n  Eats food in order (in my case my least favorite food to my most favorite food)

n  Wouldn’t wear certain fabrics (or in my case hats)

n  Food aversions (absolutely!)

n  Lining up toys (I don’t recall doing this one)

n  Organizing things in order (I am a little OCD)

n  Extreme obsessions

n  Violent meltdowns (YIP!)

n  Huge imagination (Duh)

n  Couldn’t express feelings (true)

n  Kept getting in trouble for being rude (big time)

n  Scared of social situations

n  Particularly good at problem solving puzzles but not knowing simple things like the meaning of words (I didn’t have this problem, not with Dictionary for a big sister)

n  Repeating sounds or sayings I hear from other people or the TV.

n  Verbally stimming

n  Physically stimming

n  fidgeting

I didn’t do all of these, but I did quite a few. I also have to point out that both of my parents were dead long before Claire read that article, so they never had a chance to say there were no signs, but I think they might have.

Perhaps, I should ask my stepmother her opinion.

Then again, maybe not. I read one meme that stated that Autism is highly genetic. Then it went on to say there is a huge flaw in the diagnosis process where parents are expected to know if there is anything “different” about their child, but well, how are they to know when its likely their whole family is on the spectrum?

Of course, when I was growing up Autism effected only white boys, period, and the big one was that they were nonverbal. Not even the pros of that era would have considered me as being on the spectrum.

I am white, but very much female, and I was never nonverbal. Konnie and I did use “twin speak” when we were little, which is why we took speech therapy in our early years of grade school. And I have mentioned this before. I was never nonverbal; We were just slow to speak in a language the adults around us understood.

This is actually a common problem with twins, particularly identical twins.

But aside from all that, reading up on it, I have found some other things I did or still do that place me on the spectrum.

We can start with scratching and or picking at scabs. Yes, that’s on the list.

Another one is constantly rehearsing conversations or interactions.

May often, fidget, chew, tap, or do other repetitive behaviors.

May struggle with situations that are unfamiliar (absolutely true!)

May chew, rub, or tap certain materials obsessively.

I could go on; the list is pretty long.

What I find most interesting is that on the top of list of “bizarre neurodivergence things” is something called “nesting.” On the spectrum, “Nesting” is having a certain spot, and having certain things nearby to that spot at all times.

You can ask Konnie, I do that.
Nobody, and I mean nobody has any trouble figuring out where I sit in my living room, even if I’m not sitting at the moment.

By the way, I also tend to mimic people in order to blend in. I’ve caught myself doing it a time or two.

Anyway, happy writing everyone! And Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Of Grand Stories and Elaborate Tales by Konnie Enos

A few years ago, my youngest son, Royce, came to me and wanted to tell me all about this new show he found and loved to watch.

I let him tell me about the adventures of Smith and Regg. That first one was about how Regg hoodwinked an unsuspecting Smith into helping him with his mission. Regg is something of a spy. Poor Smith was a very bookish accountant or something like that. They became quite the spectacular team, a la “Scarecrow and Mrs. King.” Their stories were entertaining and funny.

As time went on, he continued telling these tales and added other starring characters in this universe, The Grand Oracle and his friend LuLu (better known as Lucifer). His description of LuLu was a very tall, thin guy in a red suit (think three-piece and tailored). He’s also one of the good guys despite having a considerable temper issue. Namely, he abhors anyone so much as scaring an innocent child. As such, he is a terrific babysitter because if anyone even attempts to kidnap the kid, they’re toast. Kill a kid, and you will spend eternity feeling his wrath.

The Grand Oracle is probably the best character in the bunch. His usual form is that of a young man/older teen. But if you question his age or say he’s young, he could display a temper even LuLu would avoid provoking. Ask his age, and he’ll say “old, very, very old.” He’ll even tell you he’s older than Earth since he’s lived through the life span of 16 separate universes. (Or something like that.) He does have his quirks, but I think the best one is, he gets into his scraps and adventures because he’s bored. When he’s bored, he pretty much does anything that comes along to have something to do for a day or two.

Smith, that bookish accountant, is brilliant and created his own AI and security system, both personal and his home. He also got married and had a daughter, who later married and had a daughter. So the story went on for a couple of generations.

Then, of course, there is the family of dragons that live at Smith’s place. There are four of them: Mom, Dad, and their son and daughter.

Every story he told me was elaborate, full of detail, and usually hilarious. I got to where I liked him telling me what they were up to this time, and he would occasionally mention that he was looking forward to the next issue being out.

I got busy, and he’d come to me with his tales of Smith, Regg, The Grand Oracle, LuLu, and their friend less and less often. I even got to the point of thinking about looking them up to watch some of these great shows myself. Since Royce likes Japanese-style cartoons, I figured it was something similar and didn’t think it’d be hard to find. I just never bothered looking. Mostly because I already knew the stories thanks to Royce’s colorful storytelling.

Yesterday evening, not long after I’d returned home (that’s another story), Royce told me he had to confess. I could not figure out what he wanted to admit, but he told me his brother’s friend discovered his secret by searching online.

I’m confused. What secret and what did he find online?

Folks! HE MADE IT ALL UP! There is no show about Smith, Regg, The Grand Oracle, or LuLu!

Every story. All that detail. Everything my son created that whole universe!

We have told him he has to write every story down now.

He is resistant to this. Not only because he has been spinning these tails for a couple of years but because he insists he can’t read or write.

He can, but like his dear mother, he can’t spell. He’s also unsure of the grammar. My daughter, Melinda, suggested he start recording them.

So our task now is to convince this creative young man to get his stories on paper so that they can be published and presented to a larger audience.

But mostly, I’m blown away. He is my one child who has displayed the least interest in weaving tales, but he is exceptionally talented at it.

So the universe creating storytelling bug has struck all my children. We only have to convince Royce that he is imaginative and talented too.

We can also thank him for this post.

Due to yesterday being our 31^st anniversary, my mind had been on what I would be doing to celebrate. What did I end up doing? Visiting my husband in the hospital. That’s where I had come home from when Royce dropped this bombshell on me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Of Road Trips and Phone Calls by Konnie Enos

 

This week my daughter had a doctor’s appointment about an 8-hour drive from our home. This requires some planning to make it on time. After covering who was going (i.e.: drivers and patient), securing a place to stay, packing needed items, and procuring road snacks, we loaded up the car and left the house.

We did not, however, immediately, head out of town because the car needed a full tank before starting on such a long trip.

After being on the road for a while, we all needed a bathroom break. When we stopped all three of us got out of the car without our phones.

Yeah, I know, an amazing thing in this day and age but my daughters aren’t glued to their phones and I hadn’t even thought about the fact I was leaving it in the car. After all, I wasn’t going to be out of the car that long.

Not long after we returned to the car the phone of my daughter and the designated driver started ringing. (Other daughter doesn’t drive and I don’t do long distances. My max driving time is two hours and even that is iffy.)

Anyway, she answered her phone and it was her youngest brother.

I’m not at all surprised he called, even after such a short time. After all, I had left him home alone with his dad. My husband, being his normal self, manages to annoy all his children, the youngest daily but since he is on the spectrum, it’s really easy to annoy him. I’m honestly surprised he has called only three or four times since.

I mean between his father finding ways to annoy him daily and his nearly daily need to discuss his favorite shows with someone, which is usually me since I’m the only one in the house who will listen, I expected regular calls.

So his call didn’t surprise me, nor did him calling every phone but his youngest sister’s before he tried her phone. After all, she was driving.

No, what surprised me is what he said about calling every phone in our car.

You see he told his sister he’d been calling us for two hours and was starting to panic since none of us had answered our phones.

Mind you as soon as we knew he’d been calling my other daughter and I checked our phones. We had one missed call from him each, both while we were out of the car to use the bathroom.

But according to him, he’d been trying to get ahold of us for two hours.

My daughter excused our not getting his call was because we’d been driving through mountains for the last couple of hours.

Of course, we were driving through mountains, just not for a whole two hours.

As I mentioned, we’d stopped for a bathroom break, our first such break on our trip. We planned all our stops as close to two hours as we could. That’s right, two hours.

Two hours previous to his calls we were barely leaving the city.

We not only weren’t in the mountains yet, but we’d also left the house no more than half an hour before.

So according to my son, he got frustrated and annoyed with his father, who he is spending three days with, within thirty minutes of us leaving the house.

 Worse, now he had to call because his brother, who was supposed to be gone the whole time we were, had returned home already.

My two boys get along like oil and water. On top of that lately, my older son has been moody, grumpy, and fairly hostile.

Now my son has to deal with his clueless dad and his grouchy brother.

I kind of feel for him, and my sister. The last time he called I let him know I was busy.

His solution?

Call his aunt.

So my sister got the opportunity to listen to my son talking about his current favorite shows and what’s happening in them.

Though honestly, I can’t do anything about how people at home are annoying him when I’m in a different state.

I’m sure when I finally get home I’ll get an earful from my son.

Oh, the joys of motherhood.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Life on the Spectrum by Konnie Enos

Not long ago I bought a case of spam and it was sitting on my kitchen table waiting to be put away. My youngest looked at it. “That’s going to annoy me.”

“What?” He simply pointed at the case so I examined it. Most of the cans had been arranged in the same way, making a clear pattern with the tabs. A few broke the pattern. “Oh. Yes, that would be annoying.”

More recently, I walked into the kitchen and found him making not one, not even two, but four hash brown patties. His reason? “I’m only having these and two just wasn’t enough.”

No, he did not consider having three. You see three is an odd number. Four is even.

See, for my dear son, things must follow the established pattern and things MUST come in packages of even numbers.

This is why he always cooks four hamburgers (he usually only eats two, two are for my husband and me) or makes two sandwiches. It must always be even.

Yet another incident. I was trying to pack my nebulizer with several individual vails of medicine. I told my son which bag he could dig some vails from. He handed me a fistful. I counted what I had and decided I should have at least seven more.

Son reached into the bag two more times, getting a few each time. I counted them as he handed them to me but I saw no obvious efforts on his part to count them. I told him how many more we needed as he pulled exactly that number out of the bag.

“I know that.”

“You’ve been counting?

He thought that was obvious.

I’ve lived with him for eighteen years and I’m just now beginning to realize his reliance on numbers and patterns, but it’s clear they are important to him in his everyday actions.

On top of that, he has an obsessive need to talk to someone about the shows he likes to watch, to the point of spoiling the story for anyone listening.

I know a great deal about all his favorite shows, which I’ve never watched because I’m his favorite sounding board. Probably because I’ll actually listen to him.

My son is also obsessed with technology.

I’m sure he knows more about computers than anyone else in the family. Something that is helpful to at least his senior citizen dad who has never quite gotten the hang of it. My husband is always asking our son for help doing something on his computer or phone.

It’s commonplace to hear my husband asking for help by saying, “Show me how to do this again.” He also regularly needs help with his passwords. I think our son knows my husband’s passwords better than my husband does.

My son has noted that, though my husband and I are the same age, I rarely need his assistance.

Another fun thing about my son is his need to show all his gadgets to strangers and talk incessantly with them. Someone comes into our house and he’s showing them all his tech and survivor gear and talking about his obscure bits of knowledge.

Not long ago he got upset with me because I told him to ‘leave us alone’ and ‘stop talking’. The gentleman my husband and I were talking to was here on business and I’m sure the conversation took twice as long as necessary because my son kept butting in with off the wall stuff he just had to share with someone.

Worse still, he has always had difficulty speaking in conversational tones. If you can get him to ‘whisper’, as he puts it, he won’t be giving you a headache just listening to him, but most of the time I have to remind him to talk quieter.

What I find both a bit laughable and really frustrating, is his insistence that he cannot read. It seems like a daily basis when he’s telling me he can’t read something, yet, on the same daily basis he’s on his computer and phone doing all sorts of things, all of which require him to read in order to do it.

Some days it’s kind of fun to watch his still childlike traits competing with his adult knowledge and skills. However, other days it’s unnerving to have someone so much bigger than I am reacting with such childhood innocence.

He is capable of taking care of himself, though now I have to convince him of that, my sweet, lovable oaf.

This is what it’s like living with a high functioning autistic young man. Of course, since no two people are alike, the autistic people you know may be completely different from my young man.

What stories do you have to tell?

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.