Posts Tagged ‘poison’

Dorothy Spourdalakis murdered her son, Alex, a 14 year old with autism who was non-verbal and unable to communicate. He also suffered from a painful bowel disease and violent tendencies.  In June 2013, his mother and caregiver murdered Alex.  This isn’t an isolated event.  Kelli Stapleton’s mother tried to poison her daughter, Isabelle, two weeks ago.  Jaelen Edge, an autistic 13 year old, and his nine year old sister were poisoned by their mother two days ago. Saiqa Akhter, 30, also murdered her autistic children, ages two and five.

 

I keep hearing “murder is never an option”.

If you don’t live with the severely autistic, you don’t understand what it is, and you certainly don’t get to judge moms like Dorothy Spourdalakis or Kelli Stapleton.  It is easy to say that murder is never an option.  There are lots of things that are cut and dry when you look at them in a sterile setting but the game changes when you are put in that situation and you have to live it and experience it with every fiber of your being.  It also changes when you are the primary caregiver.  The one who they depend on for everything.  Food.  Water.  Cleanliness.  Health.  Safety.

There is no help and no support for those of us raising kids with autism, especially those kids who can’t speak or communicate.  This means we have no idea what is wrong, what is needed or what we can do for our child.  I go through my days guessing, and usually I’m guessing wrong.

There are fights to get treatment.  Appeal processes to get services.  Fights over what the child needs.  Perceptions to overcome.  Stereotypes to combat.

There is also exhaustion.  Depression.  Worthlessness.  Fear.  Anxiety.  Desperation.

For those of you who don’t believe this is as difficult as I say it is, I’d offer for you to come to my house and be the caregiver for a while.  But that really wouldn’t do any good because, you see, you get to leave and live your life again.  One where this isn’t weighing on your mind every single second of every single day.  There would be an end for you and that, perhaps would be where you would get your strength to go on and fight through the rough times at my house.  You wouldn’t just have to walk in my shoes… you’d have to walk with my feet.  For those of us dealing with this every day, there is no end in sight.  This is our existence and we do it because we love our children and we do what we think is best for them at any given time.

I don’t get to judge the soldier who has to kill children in war and tell him that he shouldn’t do that because murder is wrong.  You also don’t have the right to judge a mother trying to do anything she can for her child, and then, as a last resort, takes him out of his pain.  I have never been put in that situation and I am not going to cast my judgment on someone who has been brought to that point.

Before comments are made and opinions expressed, go find a family in your area that is dealing with a severely autistic child who is non-verbal.  One who doesn’t communicate.  Doesn’t even acknowledge you exist.  Perhaps one who has violent tendencies.  One who has a long-term, painful medical condition.  Help them.  Support them.  Lobby the government to help those of us who are dealing with this every day.  One out of 88 kids is diagnosed with some level of autism spectrum disorder, and that figure is on the rise.  Some of these kids are severely autistic and will need care for the rest of their life.  If something isn’t done to assist the families, we will, without a doubt, face an epidemic such as the case of Alex and so many others.

We aren’t asking for a pity pass.  We are only asking for help.  If our kids would have been born with cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, cancer, schizophrenia, ADHD or a traumatic brain injury our private insurance would provide more and we would get more state services to help us care for our children.  I am in constant contact with my son’s case worker, asking for help in whatever services there may be available for him.  Do you know what he’s eligible for?  Nothing.  There is nothing available to him until he comes off a waiting list.  A waiting list that took a year to get onto and that will take years to get off of.

In the meantime, I too, will wait for help.

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