(Seven years previously)
"Autism spectrum disorder" said Simone Ellis, slowly, "autism spectrum disorder. What does that mean exactly?"
"Well, basically..." said the senior paediatrician
"No, not basically" muttered Simone
"I beg your pardon" said the senior paediatrician "what do you mean?"
"Basically is one of those non-words, those words people use when they are trying to buy themselves time, so they can formulate their sentences, it's lazy and unnecessary and it's banned in our house."
Simone knew she was being unreasonable and difficult but she was in shock. Dr Patricia Nolan, the senior paediatrician had just given her some life shattering news and she couldn't bear to hear it start with 'basically' which was, indeed, a banned word in their house. She and her husband, Neil, would joke about it all the time. They both knew the word was perfectly acceptable, one of millions of perfectly acceptable words but then, someone, somewhere decided it made them sound intelligent, it made their sentences sound very important and suddenly, nobody seemed to be able to speak without using it as their opening gambit and everyone from newsreaders right through to the woman behind the counter in the local One Stop Shop was starting their sentences with "Well, basically..." so Simone and Neil decided they would ban the 'B' word from then on.
"Simone" said Neil, gently, "Simone, the doctor is just trying to tell us what she thinks is wrong with Simon, that's all."
"I know" she answered "but I can't bear to hear that word, not today of all days. I'm sorry, please carry on, that was rude of me."
"That's OK" said Dr Nolan "it's a hard thing to hear, I do know that and I promise I won't use the word 'basically' again if that helps. Simon has autism which basica...erm, in a nutshell, means he has trouble empathising with others. His speech and language will be slower to develop and he will almost certainly find social interaction, social communication and things such as make-believe play difficult. This is a lot for you to take in right now so I'm going to give you some literature to take home with you. Read it when you're feeling a little calmer and then, we will contact you to arrange a second meeting where we can decide the best path for Simon. I hope that's OK."
Simone gave a watery smile and held Neil's hand tightly. "So, on a scale of one to one hundred, how bad is his autism?"
"Gosh, that's a large scale, I'm not sure..."
"Well, OK then, how about a scale of one to ten?"
Dr Nolan looked across at Sandra Dillon, the senior speech and language therapist, who had spent some of the diagnosis session with Simon and they both raised their eyebrows. "Well, about a three, maybe a four I suppose."
Simone burst into tears. Dr Nolan had said Simon was almost halfway up her self-imposed autism scale and she couldn't bear it. The years leading up to this diagnosis had been spent worrying, thinking, asking, reading and wondering why her son didn't speak, why he stared out of the car window, smiling to himself, why he didn't respond to Thomas the Tank Engine or Bob the Builder in the same way other toddlers did? Why he ran around the house on tip toes and why, instead of asking for a drink, he would grab her hand and drag her across to the fridge, using her index finger to point towards the door? Now she knew for sure, her precious four year old son had autism.
A friend, who worked as a one-to-one support assistant for a severely autistic teenager, had given Simone some PECS (Picture Exchange Communication System) cards. They were small, black-and-white laminated pictures; each had just one picture on it with a single word underneath so, for example, if the teenager (who had severe speech and language difficulties) wanted a drink, he would hand her the card with a picture of a cup or beaker on it and she would then give him what they had 'asked' for. She would look at him and say the single word 'drink' as she handed over the cup, in the hope that, one day, he might just repeat it back to her. Simone tried the cards but Simon just picked them all up at once, threw them up in the air, laughed as they all scattered like confetti all over the lounge carpet and then, went back to playing with his toy trains.
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YOU ARE READING
Hero the greyhound (Simon's Hero)
General FictionSimon is autistic and his mum, Simone, is in despair. He doesn't speak, he doesn't make eye contact and she wonders whether he will ever be able to communicate with her, or indeed, with anyone else. Simon's dad wants a son he can be proud of, one he...