Would I change the diagnosis?

Lately I have had this question sitting in my mind.  If my Higher Power came to me and told me that I could choose to take away Sam’s diagnosis, would I do it?  The stipulation would be that my new friends that I have made in the Autism Community would have no memory of me.  As a trade off, Sam would have no memory of the challenges that he struggled with daily.  My Higher Power, with a last minute thought, would promise me that Sam would have every opportunity that his sister has had.  Sam would experience the world as a neurotypical.

The reason why I am thinking about this is because Temple Grandin’s words that she would not change her diagnosis echo in my head.  Her message is clear.  In today’s society people like Albert Einstein would most likely be diagnosed with Autism.  He did not speak until he was three and he was socially aloof.  Temple Grandin speaks about how if Autism didn’t exist, people like Einstein wouldn’t have made there mark on society that shapes who we are today.

I don’t worry about my friends losing their memory of me because they will know no difference.  Besides, while being undiagnosed with Bi-Polar, I have lost friends before.

I think of my past friends as trying to accept me as a dysfunctional erratic person.  My friends had to come to the fact that, for their sanity, they had to let me go.  I live with the shame of my past while giving myself permission to realize that it wasn’t my fault.  It is nobody’s fault.  If I could talk to them today I would say how sorry I was and I hope that they are healthy and happy.  One of my things that I hold near and dear to my heart is my friend telling me, “We will always have our memories.” 

So if I so choose, I go on living with the memories of my new good friends.  I will have the remembrance of being too tired and leaning over to a friend explaining that I couldn’t make it through the conference, with her leaning back saying, “Yes you can.”  I would miss the lengthy discussions of what we know is best for our children.  I would have to look for new ways to stretch my intellectual mind because my friends and I no longer would discuss what we want for our kids and how to get out there and get it. 

So my Higher Power continues, “If you change the diagnosis, I must warn you that Sam’s Sensory Integration disorder will be gone.  Sam’s acute ability to see will diminish and the photographs that he has taken will disintegrate.” 

I would remember walking with Sam taking pictures while constantly being surprised how good they are.  I will follow my passion for photography and find the beauty on my own.  I would be on the sidelines of every game and every concert with my camera in tow.  I would join the booster clubs and be in the background while Sam knew that I was there for him without me having to lead the way.

I could selfishly take away the diagnosis and think of what I could do with the extra time on my hands.  I would no longer be driving Sam around for hours at a time.  Music Therapy and appointments with Doctors and Therapists would be nonexistent.   Upstate New York Families for Effective Autism Treatment’s (UNYFEAT) Electronic Kids Club and Science Club would fade away while Sam was making friends on his own.  I would have to say goodbye to conferences and speaker series and the networking that builds more friendships.  I would essentially be giving up my life and starting a new one.

So, would I change the diagnosis?  Why yes, yes I would.

Now I move forward because I know that this will never happen.  I can and will keep my new friends.  I will be there for them as I know they will be there for me.  I will continue to foster Sam’s interests, to find what works and make it happen.  I will drive for hours while making sure he makes all of his appointments.  That is just how us Moms do it.

I was driving home with Sam from Electronics Kids Club one night and he asked for his camera.  He takes the camera and starts taking pictures of the traffic without the flash on. 

He shows me pictures, “Look Mom, doesn’t that look like fireworks?” 

“Why yes it does look like fireworks.”

A moment passes, “Look Mom doesn’t that look like the lights in the arctic circle?”

“You mean the Aurora Borealis?"

I’m stunned at the response, “Yes that is what I mean."

Sam starts experimenting with the camera and starts moving it in a circular motion while taking the picture.

These are the kind of conversations that I would miss the most.

Definition of Mental

1.a: of, relating to, or being intellectual as contrasted with overt physical activity.

2.a: of, relating to, or affected by a psychiatric disorder <mental patient>.

b: mentally disordered, mad, crazy.

I choose being an intellectual as my definition of being mental.

*The photo that I use for my background was taken by Sam.