This post would be the “go big” part of that statement… no-holds-barred, taking the issues head-on. It’s posted in full on my Facebook page, too.
Over, and over, and over, I hear parents say that I don’t know what “real” autism is like (oh, I guess my 20-some years of outright suffering was just because I felt like it) and that I’m standing in the way of their kids getting what they need. They say that their kids have behavioral issues and can’t communicate, and I say, “I believe he can communicate, and I’m happy to help you in whatever way I can to make that happen.” No one has EVER taken me up on that… but many do go on to continue to throw attacks at me. The very last thing I want is for any child or family to suffer. Not only that, but I’ll do whatever I can to turn things around. People don’t just refuse the help, they continue to be accusatory… and you know, I’m starting to think that people want to suffer, that it’s become a martyrdom. I don’t want to believe that, and yet I don’t know what else to believe.
“Cure” has become such a dividing word. I realize that, when parents say they want a cure, they almost always mean something different than advocates like me hear in the same word. Parents mean that they want to minimize their children’s suffering. They don’t want a different child, but they don’t want the child to be in pain, without a way to communicate, and self-harming.
I don’t know any advocate who DOES want children to be in those situations. The problem is that the one and only way we are anywhere, remotely, even on track to think about finding a cause, let alone a cure, is by way of genetic testing and a prenatal test. Essentially, the idea is that an unborn baby could be tested for his genetic risk toward developing autism, and parents would have the choice to abort. We have this ability with Down Syndrome, and the reality is that over 90% of fetuses known to have DS are aborted. Why are we kidding ourselves into thinking we’d see anything different with autism? I very well may have never had the chance at life. I very well may not know some of my amazing friends, some of whom can speak and others of whom cannot.
The thing is that, had such a test been available in 1987, my parents might have learned that I would grow up to need a feeding tube, IV support, have an ostomy, and an insulin pump. They might hear that I would be in constant, intense pain, that I would spend a lot of time in the hospital, and that I would need multiple surgeries and deal with severe fatigue, autonomic issues, fragile skin, joint pain, and be almost unable to eat. But, no prenatal test has the ability to tell my parents that I would love kitties to the extreme, write books, speak at national conference, earn my Master’s, or find a way, despite it all, to live independently. They would not know that I would have a deep, abiding faith and uncrushable joy. The tests can tell you all the bad, but they cannot and will never tell you anything about the good–the person.
I don’t for a second stand in the way of easing suffering, but my faith and my belief that my life is worthwhile, even with all the crap my body throws at me, mean that I will not stand in support of a test like that. Please don’t throw accusations of “not knowing what real autism is like” or being a “quirky genius” at me, as if I don’t know pain, rejection, and isolation. I don’t want anybody to suffer, and it breaks my heart when I see kids in crisis. I’ll do whatever I can to make good on my promise to help anyone who asks. Know that when you support a cure, in its current realistic possibility, and the organizations who are working toward it, by default, you’re supporting a prenatal test. I hope that, in the future, we have a way to ease suffering without undoing life. Until then, I’m glad we don’t, because no pain makes the joy not worth it.