The Guy Who Can’t Talk

I know I’ve written as nauseum about an autistic, non verbal adult who wrote a book. The reason why I can never forget the contents (I am bad with titles) is because it scared me about my children. Or specifically, my daughter. He writes how he has so wanted to SAY to his mother, “Mom, I love you so much. Thank you for how you’ve cared for me all these years. I definitely appreciate it and I do see it.” He states how he knows it would be the best thing in her life, for him to speak even the sentence “I love you.” But he cannot. And for me who loves telling people how grateful I am, to never be able to say it to a very loving and sacrificial mother would hurt me, especially knowing she wishes I could say it and everything else that others can.

So I prayed and hoped my child would not be an unreliable speaker. These are the ones who from our angle as caregivers, don’t always talk and if they do, it’s not much. I feared it because of the frustration he would feel when he would try to say a word. From the auotsyic’s angle, it’s also terrible. Words desert them when they need them the most, or as he said, when they want to be social with their families but can’t. He gave a vivid example of how he could be in the backseat of their car as they travel somewhere and he then sees an aeroplane out the window. In his head he’s thinking he will say, “Look how fast that plane is going!” But his mouth and brain betray him and all he says is, “Dog.”

Can you imagine how horrible that would be!? I didn’t want that for my daughter. But for over a year now I have feared that’s where we are. Remember the time she used to call her father “ dinosaur?” Perhaps she was planning on saying “Daddy.”

She no longer calls anyone by any kind of name unless echoing something we’ve just said. Like if I tell her, “Let’s ask Bk,” then I’m a very angry tone she will repeat, “BK!” But today she said dolphin.

Let’s give context. I was resting my leg that has the incision that opened up again at the top of it, and eating green grapes. She came in and looking at me, looking at the grapes in a very clear, “You KNOW I love grapes, you WILL give me those grapes!” she said, “Dolphin.”

I immediately asked her if she wants the grapes, handing them to her and she took them and ate them all.

Dolphin isn’t dolphin.

And that stinks because she’s “trapped” like so many non verbal autistic have said they are. Words there but brain not wanting to cooperate. Probably similar to an aphasia patient recovering from a stroke, maybe?

Dolphin isn’t dolphin. So, what were all the other animals names she’d say so meaningfully while staring into my eyes like she’s asking for something?

I hate autism.