Friday, March 13, 2009

autism and the flu during the night

march 13 2009

Being autistic is a struggle, trust me.

My autistic son shares a room with his ADHD brother.
It's far from a successful situation, but when they're asleep it works out well.

The flu is slapping the kids one by one, and my ADHD son has caught it in a very bad way.
Because his autistic brother complains about his normal breathing, he tries to conquer the night on the couch, coughing, wheezing and turning around all night.

Problem is my autistic son didn't want to go to sleep.
According to him things aren't distributed even, because he wants to sleep on the couch too.

Seeing a chance to offer my other son his own bed, I agree with him and tell him to go downstairs with his cushion.
He throws a fit.
The outcome is that he wants to have his brother in his own bed, because he misses his breathing sounds.

By that time it's 2.30 in the night, and my eyes are hardly prepared to stay open another 5 minutes.

We don't have sleeping pills available, but I do have vitamin C in a brown pharmacy pot with an interesting label with lots of C4pftbidyetrityfosfate thingies and umml and such, with his name and birthdate and a cotton ball under the lid to keep the pills away from moisture.

My underconscious steers my arm straight to it and I succumb.
I get a mug with water and tell my son to take a pill while I get his brother.
Ofcourse he needs a sleeping pill to sleep through the coughing and wheezing....

While I bring the mug back to the bathroom: about 4 steps to and 4 steps fro, he falls asleep and doesn't notice I switch of the lights and jump in my bed.

When I wake up a few hours later my right arms hurts badly because I kept it so firm in my sleep that the muscles protest.
My son had forgotten all what went on during the night and he tells his brother to stop wheezing and coughing, because a bad flu lasts a week and he's bugged for 8 days already.

"Yea, that's why he went to the doc yesterday" I tell him.
Like the doc added a few days extra.

I'm relieved when a big, deep, heavy silence follows...


Post a Comment

Thank you for your comment.