I am a visual thinker. If I need to remember important information, I think of a picture with details drawn in. I am also somebody who, like perhaps all people on the autism spectrum, learns by making rules. These two brain functions are what carried me through much of life when it came to learning new tasks and becoming more flexible in my thinking. If I was expected to change the way I do something and then eventually did, people would say, "See, you CAN be flexible!" In reality, it's not that I was being "flexible" at all. Instead, I was forming a set of sub-rules to a main rule. In the book Unwritten Rules Of Social Relationships, rule #1 states, "Rules are not absolute. They are situation-based and people-based." By making a rule "situation-based," I can appear to be flexible and can therefore pretend to be somewhat normal in society. Thinking in pictures and forming sub-rules are also how I learned very complex tasks, tasks which would seem impossible to tackle for a person with an autism spectrum disorder.
In the book Developing Talents, Dr. Temple Grandin states that one of the most improbable jobs for visual thinkers is to work as a nurse in a busy hospital setting. There is too much sensory input coming at you from all angles, and the multitasking that is required would be unmanageable. Between 1984 and 1986, I was a student at the now-defunct St. Joseph Hospital School of Nursing. I never made it through the program because I was unable to handle being in such an environment. My mind could only focus on one task at a time, and it was very slow at doing that. Even though I was at the top of my class academically, the program administrators said that I needed to drop the program. Back then, I did not know that I was on the autism spectrum, and testing I had done at the local rehab hospital did not pinpoint anything specific. This was before the days of there being any form of protection or accommodation for people with disabilities. Six years later, though, I did become a respiratory therapist. The training itself was slower-paced and specific. Therefore, I was able to get through it. But once I was working in the busy hospital setting, I saw how very very challenging it really was. I didn't spent a great deal of time in that setting before going off to graduate school to become a chiropractor.
Where I DID spend a great deal of time was being an ambulance attendant. Ten good years of being with the same squad, working with the same mentor, was the ideal situation for me. It was where I became quite proficient at being able to handle extremely stressful situations which required multitasking to be able to get anything accomplished. Most people spend about three months being a trainee if they are just starting out on the ambulance squad. I spent at least three years as a trainee. Under normal circumstances, a person like me would have been let go of in a matter of weeks. But this was a volunteer organization, and my mentor Larry was somebody who worked with my mom and knew her very well. Besides, volunteers were always hard to come by. Little did I know that how I learned things was very different from the norm. Learning how to put a splint on a broken leg in a classroom didn't take much brains. But learning how to put a splint on a broken leg while your patient is lying in the middle of a busy highway covered in broken glass in the middle of a thunder storm while there were four other injured people to worry about is a whole different ball game. It took being subject to such situations over and over and over again to be able to form sub-rules for various situations before I was finally able to do such things on my own. A day eventually came when I could just pull out that file in my head and know what to do for what type of situation. Nothing was spontaneous. It all had to be learned, step by step.
Learning how to multitask was a whole experience in itself. How was it that I was eventually able to take a blood pressure while at the same time listening to the paramedic's assessment? This is where thinking in pictures was my best friend. Normally, such a bombardment of input would be handled by shutting everything out and focusing on just the task I was doing at the time. This is how I flunked myself out of nursing school and is also what I did in the hospital as a respiratory therapist. I knew that if I really wanted to be part of the ambulance service, being a great contributor to my community and saving lives, I better get learning! I eventually figured out that I could build my short-term memory by holding an image of what was being said in my mind long enough so that I could retrieve it when I was done with the task at hand, making that the next order of business. If there were more than one orders of business coming up, then each one would be a picture in my head, one right next to the other just like in a comic strip.
While making sub-rules and thinking in pictures were, and still are, my best friends in the work setting, starting up again in a whole new profession would not be possible. On the ambulance crew, I had three comfortable years to be able to go through all the processes and self-discoveries. This is certainly not something any employer has the time for. It is also why I am not currently looking for another career path. To reenter the world of pre-hospital emergency care is also not in the cards. Now that I know what chiropractic can do, and what medicine cannot do, I would be too tempted to educate people to these facts. I truly AM a chiropractor at heart, even if I’m not serving an abundance of patients at this time.
If there was a way to think in pictures and to form rules and sub-rules regarding successful marketing, I’d really have my hands full. This is an area that I still haven’t quite figured out yet, even after ten-and-a-half years of being in practice. Dr. Temple Grandin got to where she is today because she had a nice portfolio put together of all her successes. She did not get where she is because she had good people skills. She does not, and neither do I. While at first glance, people would never guess that I have autism, they would certainly come to know this over a period of time. My next step is to work on a portfolio that shows my accomplishments. Dr. Grandin, like me, developed her skills by having a mentor who believed in her and gave her a chance. The “real world” is not so giving or forgiving. I guess I will forever be in a state of struggle, whether being an entrepreneur or if working for somebody else.
There are other factors that affect my abilities, such as having a cognitive disorder and a circadian rhythm imbalance. The cognitive disorder affects my ability to process information and to remember things offhand. Learning new skills not only requires that I learn things my own way by forming rules. Constant repetition is also necessary. Usually when a person tells me something, such as a memorandum piece of information or their name, I will not remember it, even if I am attentive. I must hear the information a second time, or even a third. As for the circadian rhythm imbalance, ever since my senior year of high school I have had notable sleep disturbances. These disturbances have prevented me from being able to hold a daytime job. The record, though, goes to Penske Truck Leasing, who I worked for as a data entry and report editing clerk for 26 months, thanks to Benadryl and L-tryptophan. There is a reason why my chiropractic office hours begin at 2:00 in the afternoon and go well into the night. That’s what I am capable of. I mention this in my marketing efforts to let people know that it would suit them better to visit a doctor who they can see when their work day is done than to have to miss work during the day. I always find a way to make lemonade out of my batch of lemons.
Over the years, I have certainly been quite the spectacle. Kids on the playground at school would make fun of me. Adults in the workplace would make fun of me too. They knew that I was different, that I didn’t fit it. They knew that I did things in odd ways. Although I may have appeared as a recluse, I still got the job done, somehow. But for those jobs where I lasted only three weeks or less, it was apparent that I wasn’t able to cognize the skills that were required of me in a reasonable amount of time. Perhaps the most notable of these jobs was my short stint at Pearle Vision Center in January of 1988. Lots of lenses were destroyed as I tried to learn how to use the lens grinder. I would have finally “gotten it” if I had been given just a few more days. Whether we are talking about kids in school or adults in the work place, people do not like being around somebody who doesn’t “fit in”. It makes them uncomfortable to have to mesh with somebody like that. It makes them feel burdened as if they cannot be themselves. It brings out the worst in them. This is why schools and employers NEED to have mentors available for people on the autism spectrum. Mentors are truly angels in disguise. They are the ones who can let the individual on the autism spectrum know that they DO belong and that they are an important contributors in this world. The mentor is the one that the autistic person will remember and thank profusely when it comes time to give credit for their marvelous accomplishments. Despite the fact that the audie thinks and reasons very differently, the same goals can be reached, and perhaps with even greater insight. All they need is a chance.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Early Years
Kids just go about being themselves. I was no exception. I was not “different” in my eyes. I was just doing the things that interested me very much. Suddenly I found myself being the talk of the adult world around me. Who is this genius who knows how to pronounce the difference parts of the brain, and also knows what they do? Why does he make up his own addition and subtraction problems just to keep himself amused? What kind of strangeness must be in this guy’s head to dress up as Sherlock Holmes in 90-degree weather? While adults were kept entertained, kids my own age were not. They were very mean and spiteful, calling me a nerd or a retard. Not all of them were like that, though. If you wanted to be my friend, the best way to do that was to play word games with me. Otherwise, I was not social with my peers.
Although in third grade I started to cognize that I was very different, it wasn’t until I was eleven years old and in fifth grade that it really hit me. As we entered adolescence, differences between me and the other kids became very obvious. I wasn’t into all the gossip and rough play. Conversations did not revolve around sports, sex, or building friendships. It was as if my eyes suddenly opened one day. That’s when the inferiority complexes started rolling in – feelings that would plague me well into my adult years.
Just before being diagnosed with PDD-NOS in 2008, I read the book “Unwritten Rules Of Social Relationships” by Dr. Temple Grandin and Sean Barron. While reading Sean’s story, I couldn’t believe how much his early years were almost identical to what I experienced. It was as if I were looking into a mirror. That’s when it really started clicking in my own mind that I may have been autistic all these years. I also thought that it would be nice if I WAS diagnosed with autism because then, for the first time in my life, I could finally put my finger on the reason why I was so different.
To add to all my social ineptness, I was constantly suffering from some sort of health problem. The fact that I was small for my age didn’t help matters. Constantly having ear infections and some reason to visit the medical doctor kept me isolated from other kids much of the time. I spent a lot of time in the care of my grandparents or my Aunt Doris and being examined by some doctor for some reason. At the age of 12, during a routine visit to an endocrinologist, I discovered that I had a leaking heart valve. I myself made the discovery before the doctor mentioned it. I even pointed it out to my parents before the endocrinologist called for the cardiologist. It wasn’t until I was 19 years old that the leak in my aortic valve became bad enough to require open heart surgery to fix. While my own health challenges were an influence in my decision to pursue a career in health care, other interests developed during my childhood that are still present today. While spending time at my Aunt Doris’s place, I would walk up the street to the public library where I would spend the day reading books on anatomy & physiology, astronomy, and paranormal phenomena. While it is obvious from my choice of profession that anatomy & physiology is my forte, these other areas are still topics of great intrigue.
On the first day of fourth grade, in September of 1971, I met a new lifelong friend who would be an integral part of my life in many ways. It was the new priest who just took over as pastor of the parish, Father Steve. I remember that the reason why I was excited to meet him was because he had such a calming and accepting energy about him. As Father Steve recalls, his first great memory of me happened on the day we met, when I recited The Lord’s Prayer in Greek. This was just another feat by which I captivated an adult audience. At this period of time, I was teaching myself how to speak Greek because I had neighbors who were from Greece. From that day on, Father Steve would be the main person I would share everything about myself with. He would be there during all those years I was going through my inferiority complexes. He was there with me in the hospital ICU when I first woke up after my open heart surgery. He would also be the person I’d visit on a regular basis when I needed somebody to talk to during my adult years. I last saw Father Steve one Monday morning in February of 2001, when he made a surprise visit to my apartment in Hazleton, Pennsylvania. Because of his unconditional acceptance of others, I spent a great deal of time talking to him about anything and everything, even well after I stopped practicing Catholicism.
You might wonder what my parents must have thought as I was going through such difficulties. Among the myriad of doctors and health professionals they ever took me to, there was a child psychologist thrown in the mix. Back in those days, though, the only form of autism that existed was classical autism, where communication and logical action are lacking. Even when I saw a psychologist at the age of twenty-two for an evaluation for possible learning disabilities, autism never came into the picture. While my parents were extremely supportive and responsive to my physical needs, they were completely unaware of my emotional and social concerns. To them, I was an amazingly brilliant, precocious wonder. If I wasn’t following the rules of social conduct, I just needed more discipline to knock some “sense” into me. Needless to say, my relationship with my parents in my teen and young adult years were not always so pleasant. They were doing what they though was best, and they gave me what they thought I needed. But it wasn’t what I needed, and all that that discipline to knock more sense into me really did was frustrate me more and more. While I feel that I am very close to my parents to this day, I still do not mention all the things that are on my mind because of their limited understanding of how my mind really works. My mind works like an autistic mind, not as one that needs more sense knocked into it.
My stimming behaviors have not always been so disruptive. Most autistic people make strange repetitive motions or have undeniable behavioral mannerisms. This is not the case with me. As a child, I was completely addicted to anything that physically moved me, such as rocking chairs, a rocking horse, swings, etc. Throughout my teen years and well into my adult years, I would listen to music, sitting in a room with all the lights out, wearing out rocking chairs. I mostly listened, and still listen to, Elton John. I would daydream about being a hero with the fire department or being in the military. I would also daydream about being part of Elton John’s band, traveling with the band around the U.S. between concerts on motorcycles that could fly. This world of music, darkness, daydreaming, and rocking was so comforting.
An even more peculiar stimming behavior that I still indulge in is making lists. As a child, I made a list of every kind of car I could think of while drawing a picture of the front of the car next to the name. In high school, a circulating joke between three or four friends turned into my creating the fictitious, and now legendary, “Sugi’s Army”. My “recruitment” efforts netted over three hundred people, and I would always carry with me the list I typed up of all the army’s members and their ranks. Before the days of computer word programs, I became quite a good Scrabble player by reading through the Official Scrabble Player’s Dictionary, making list after list of strange words. While working for Penske Truck Leasing in the late 80s, I made a list of every city and town in every state and cross-referenced the names to every state that has a city or town by that name. I compiled this list be ticking off town names, one by one, in both the Rand McNally Road Atlas and the AAA Road Atlas. But perhaps my most notorious list was the creation of “Pat’s Picture Book” – the entire National Scrabble Association’s Official Tournament Word List typed, word by word, into a WordPerfect document, and many of the obscure words then being linked to websites that describe those words. Over the course of the past eight years that I’ve lived in Minnesota, I’ve created several lists – lists of all school districts, colleges, hotels, funeral homes, attorneys, trucking companies, etc. in the state and beyond, all being establishments which I advertised my services to. Making lists is what keeps my mind occupied when nothing particularly inspirational is in it. Yet, it is the inspiration to reach a particular goal that propels me to take on such an exhaustive project.
So, as I stated, I was just being me, a kid doing his own thing, following his own interests. Then, when adolescence and the teen years came, along came the eye-opening reality that I was very different than my peers. I really REALLY didn’t fit in. Although there were a couple other kids I did do things with, there was no way I could possibly go out independently into the world to make new friends. It’s not that I was shy or afraid. I was not. I was just clueless as to how to go about initiating conversation. Even when I did finally get the gumption to start talking to other kids, my ignorance of the social rules was quite evident. I didn’t even talk like a “guy”. I talked like that nice kid who was treading lightly as he ventured out of an eggshell. Knowing I was so different was indeed painful. Thanks to the adults I could talk to, though, I never reached such a low as to consider self-destruction. There was always that inner spiritual awareness, yet to a small degree during the teen years, that kept me engaged in the world. But at the same time, the strong need to “fit in” eventually gave rise to some very inappropriate ties.
During my senior year of high school, I would go to parties and do things that I would have never considered doing before. My beer chugging habits became the talk of the school. Taking a few “hits” from a marijuana cigarette seemed cool. Although I never became part of the “in” crowd, I was being more socially daring and was therefore talked to more. Once while I was at a training exercise with the Fire & Rescue Explorers Post, we visited a local fire company. I decided that it would make me look more mature if I spent some time hanging out with a loudmouthed fireman and some of his friends. When I became a fireman, I tried to act like what I thought a “guy” should act like. Having a few too many beers at the local bar with some "friends" became a pastime. In the later 80s, the scene moved from bars to a biker bar with adult entertainment where a few firemen I knew frequented. These scenes were NOT regular events at all. They were occasional activities that I felt would improve my manliness. But in the end, all they did was obviate my awkwardness. These “fitting in” digressions lessened significantly when I left Pennsylvania in 1992 and stopped all together when my fortunate spiritual journey began.
Those who have known me since 1998 know the inner adventures I so diligently wrote about during the years since. Meeting an Indian guru in the summer of ‘98 changed the course of history forever. I briefly touched upon my spiritual experiences and revelations in past blog posts. You can get a good picture of where this path has taken me in such writings as “The Healing Power Of Qi: Lessons From Avatar”. There will be more to come like this in the near future.
Although in third grade I started to cognize that I was very different, it wasn’t until I was eleven years old and in fifth grade that it really hit me. As we entered adolescence, differences between me and the other kids became very obvious. I wasn’t into all the gossip and rough play. Conversations did not revolve around sports, sex, or building friendships. It was as if my eyes suddenly opened one day. That’s when the inferiority complexes started rolling in – feelings that would plague me well into my adult years.
Just before being diagnosed with PDD-NOS in 2008, I read the book “Unwritten Rules Of Social Relationships” by Dr. Temple Grandin and Sean Barron. While reading Sean’s story, I couldn’t believe how much his early years were almost identical to what I experienced. It was as if I were looking into a mirror. That’s when it really started clicking in my own mind that I may have been autistic all these years. I also thought that it would be nice if I WAS diagnosed with autism because then, for the first time in my life, I could finally put my finger on the reason why I was so different.
To add to all my social ineptness, I was constantly suffering from some sort of health problem. The fact that I was small for my age didn’t help matters. Constantly having ear infections and some reason to visit the medical doctor kept me isolated from other kids much of the time. I spent a lot of time in the care of my grandparents or my Aunt Doris and being examined by some doctor for some reason. At the age of 12, during a routine visit to an endocrinologist, I discovered that I had a leaking heart valve. I myself made the discovery before the doctor mentioned it. I even pointed it out to my parents before the endocrinologist called for the cardiologist. It wasn’t until I was 19 years old that the leak in my aortic valve became bad enough to require open heart surgery to fix. While my own health challenges were an influence in my decision to pursue a career in health care, other interests developed during my childhood that are still present today. While spending time at my Aunt Doris’s place, I would walk up the street to the public library where I would spend the day reading books on anatomy & physiology, astronomy, and paranormal phenomena. While it is obvious from my choice of profession that anatomy & physiology is my forte, these other areas are still topics of great intrigue.
On the first day of fourth grade, in September of 1971, I met a new lifelong friend who would be an integral part of my life in many ways. It was the new priest who just took over as pastor of the parish, Father Steve. I remember that the reason why I was excited to meet him was because he had such a calming and accepting energy about him. As Father Steve recalls, his first great memory of me happened on the day we met, when I recited The Lord’s Prayer in Greek. This was just another feat by which I captivated an adult audience. At this period of time, I was teaching myself how to speak Greek because I had neighbors who were from Greece. From that day on, Father Steve would be the main person I would share everything about myself with. He would be there during all those years I was going through my inferiority complexes. He was there with me in the hospital ICU when I first woke up after my open heart surgery. He would also be the person I’d visit on a regular basis when I needed somebody to talk to during my adult years. I last saw Father Steve one Monday morning in February of 2001, when he made a surprise visit to my apartment in Hazleton, Pennsylvania. Because of his unconditional acceptance of others, I spent a great deal of time talking to him about anything and everything, even well after I stopped practicing Catholicism.
You might wonder what my parents must have thought as I was going through such difficulties. Among the myriad of doctors and health professionals they ever took me to, there was a child psychologist thrown in the mix. Back in those days, though, the only form of autism that existed was classical autism, where communication and logical action are lacking. Even when I saw a psychologist at the age of twenty-two for an evaluation for possible learning disabilities, autism never came into the picture. While my parents were extremely supportive and responsive to my physical needs, they were completely unaware of my emotional and social concerns. To them, I was an amazingly brilliant, precocious wonder. If I wasn’t following the rules of social conduct, I just needed more discipline to knock some “sense” into me. Needless to say, my relationship with my parents in my teen and young adult years were not always so pleasant. They were doing what they though was best, and they gave me what they thought I needed. But it wasn’t what I needed, and all that that discipline to knock more sense into me really did was frustrate me more and more. While I feel that I am very close to my parents to this day, I still do not mention all the things that are on my mind because of their limited understanding of how my mind really works. My mind works like an autistic mind, not as one that needs more sense knocked into it.
My stimming behaviors have not always been so disruptive. Most autistic people make strange repetitive motions or have undeniable behavioral mannerisms. This is not the case with me. As a child, I was completely addicted to anything that physically moved me, such as rocking chairs, a rocking horse, swings, etc. Throughout my teen years and well into my adult years, I would listen to music, sitting in a room with all the lights out, wearing out rocking chairs. I mostly listened, and still listen to, Elton John. I would daydream about being a hero with the fire department or being in the military. I would also daydream about being part of Elton John’s band, traveling with the band around the U.S. between concerts on motorcycles that could fly. This world of music, darkness, daydreaming, and rocking was so comforting.
An even more peculiar stimming behavior that I still indulge in is making lists. As a child, I made a list of every kind of car I could think of while drawing a picture of the front of the car next to the name. In high school, a circulating joke between three or four friends turned into my creating the fictitious, and now legendary, “Sugi’s Army”. My “recruitment” efforts netted over three hundred people, and I would always carry with me the list I typed up of all the army’s members and their ranks. Before the days of computer word programs, I became quite a good Scrabble player by reading through the Official Scrabble Player’s Dictionary, making list after list of strange words. While working for Penske Truck Leasing in the late 80s, I made a list of every city and town in every state and cross-referenced the names to every state that has a city or town by that name. I compiled this list be ticking off town names, one by one, in both the Rand McNally Road Atlas and the AAA Road Atlas. But perhaps my most notorious list was the creation of “Pat’s Picture Book” – the entire National Scrabble Association’s Official Tournament Word List typed, word by word, into a WordPerfect document, and many of the obscure words then being linked to websites that describe those words. Over the course of the past eight years that I’ve lived in Minnesota, I’ve created several lists – lists of all school districts, colleges, hotels, funeral homes, attorneys, trucking companies, etc. in the state and beyond, all being establishments which I advertised my services to. Making lists is what keeps my mind occupied when nothing particularly inspirational is in it. Yet, it is the inspiration to reach a particular goal that propels me to take on such an exhaustive project.
So, as I stated, I was just being me, a kid doing his own thing, following his own interests. Then, when adolescence and the teen years came, along came the eye-opening reality that I was very different than my peers. I really REALLY didn’t fit in. Although there were a couple other kids I did do things with, there was no way I could possibly go out independently into the world to make new friends. It’s not that I was shy or afraid. I was not. I was just clueless as to how to go about initiating conversation. Even when I did finally get the gumption to start talking to other kids, my ignorance of the social rules was quite evident. I didn’t even talk like a “guy”. I talked like that nice kid who was treading lightly as he ventured out of an eggshell. Knowing I was so different was indeed painful. Thanks to the adults I could talk to, though, I never reached such a low as to consider self-destruction. There was always that inner spiritual awareness, yet to a small degree during the teen years, that kept me engaged in the world. But at the same time, the strong need to “fit in” eventually gave rise to some very inappropriate ties.
During my senior year of high school, I would go to parties and do things that I would have never considered doing before. My beer chugging habits became the talk of the school. Taking a few “hits” from a marijuana cigarette seemed cool. Although I never became part of the “in” crowd, I was being more socially daring and was therefore talked to more. Once while I was at a training exercise with the Fire & Rescue Explorers Post, we visited a local fire company. I decided that it would make me look more mature if I spent some time hanging out with a loudmouthed fireman and some of his friends. When I became a fireman, I tried to act like what I thought a “guy” should act like. Having a few too many beers at the local bar with some "friends" became a pastime. In the later 80s, the scene moved from bars to a biker bar with adult entertainment where a few firemen I knew frequented. These scenes were NOT regular events at all. They were occasional activities that I felt would improve my manliness. But in the end, all they did was obviate my awkwardness. These “fitting in” digressions lessened significantly when I left Pennsylvania in 1992 and stopped all together when my fortunate spiritual journey began.
Those who have known me since 1998 know the inner adventures I so diligently wrote about during the years since. Meeting an Indian guru in the summer of ‘98 changed the course of history forever. I briefly touched upon my spiritual experiences and revelations in past blog posts. You can get a good picture of where this path has taken me in such writings as “The Healing Power Of Qi: Lessons From Avatar”. There will be more to come like this in the near future.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
What If Your Doctor Had Autism?
What if your doctor had autism? Would that be so hard to believe? I guess if your view of autism is seeing helpless children and adults who can’t speak and can’t care for themselves in any way, then it probably would be. The truth is that such a view of autism describes a limited number of people who have been diagnosed with classical autism, not the entire autism spectrum. The rest of the people with autism spectrum disorders (ASDs) are very much able take care of themselves and to be great contributors to society in many professional ways. Yes, I am a doctor, and yes, I have autism. So what is it that you should know and expect from a doctor who has autism? First and foremost is to know that the care you receive in such a doctor’s office is done with such empathy for your concerns and with such diligence at giving you the best care possible that you can be grateful for such an individual who can give you such outstanding attention. Secondly, you need to know that people with ASDs will almost always appear socially uneasy. That’s because they just are, and there is no “why” to explain this. It is something that you will need to look past in order to appreciate the gift that such a person brings into your life.
So, what is actually going through my autistic mind as I am caring for you? Do not be surprised if it sometimes seems that I am “zoning out”. This is actually how I go through the problem solving routine. I am searching through the “hard drive” in my brain, much like Dr. Temple Grandin, a world-renowned autistic scientist, does when she is trying to solve a problem. I have to think in pictures, to visualize what is going on in the body or in the mind, as the case may be, in order to derive the correct treatment, procedure, or piece of advice to give. This is not to be mistaken for cluelessness. It is just how many autistic minds work. Keep in mind that the answers and advice I come up with may be very different from what another doctor may have told you. One doctor’s response may be based on academia or past experience alone. Mine is ALSO based on the conceptualization of processes and outcomes. It is MORE insightful.
While many people with ASDs become great scientists, engineers, and computer programmers, those who choose professions where direct, and often personal, contact with people is required, such as being a doctor, do so for a very humanitarian reason. They are not doing what they do just because it was a good choice of profession; they are true healers. They knew from a time early on, perhaps due to having had their own health concerns, that they could make a difference for other people. As for me personally, I had many many health challenges throughout my life. Therefore, I can understand how serious your concerns are to you. I can ESPECIALLY understand the concerns of your loved one who you may be bringing to my office because they have an autism spectrum disorder. Also, it is necessary that you understand that a person with autism will express themselves differently. The social mannerisms of an autistic person may oftentimes be peculiar. This is not always evident to somebody who is not familiar with autistic people. Therefore, in jest, while listening to me speak, you can think of Dr. Gregory House on the TV show House in order to feel more at ease.
Personally, I feel that I can be more at ease when talking about health concerns. The reason is because I have been through so many of my own, and I turned out to be okay. Some of these concerns include having had open heart surgery, and I am also a stroke survivor. When I am talking to you about a condition or situation that worries you, and I know that it is something that I can help you with, then I will convey uplifting, hopeful vibes to you. My goal is to help you feel more comfortable with the care you are receiving, to instill hope, and to help you see that being positive-minded is the best healing power of all. By having appreciation for my good nature that I relay is key to seeing beyond serious “doctor-ness” which is usually expected and realizing that I am a real, down-to-earth person, one that really cares.
It may surprise you to learn that people with autism may be great contributors to society. It’s just that they are challenged because they do not interact, nor does their mind function, in the ways which are considered “norms” by society. They have to think and do things in alternative ways. Unfortunately, this oftentimes affects how one communicates as well. But once the autistic person finds the way in which he or she can communicate, whether it be through writing, drawing, speaking, or some other way, it is amazing what they can accomplish! Having an ASD does not doom most people who have them. It does give them obstacles they must maneuver around in order to be functional. They are, nonetheless, FUNCTIONAL. The stereotypes of autism being a taboo subject, a curse, or a life sentence need to be thrown out. The autistic child who disrupts the normal schedule of a classroom is not to be disciplined but is instead to be encouraged to think and do what he can in the ways that he can. Many thoughts and feelings about people with autism are actually shadows of Dark Age paradigms. This is NOT a medical condition that can be cured, and people with autism need not be institutionalized, shunned by society, or, worst of all, be made a pin cushion of by the medical establishment. One thing I often contemplate is whether or not there will ever be a cure for “neurotypical-ism”. Now THAT would be nice!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The Coincidental Omen: Ominous Or Auspicous?
The date was Saturday, October 2, 1982. It was 11:30 PM in Ganeshpuri, India. The man who would become my spiritual teacher and guru in due time, Swami Muktananda, took his last breaths before leaving this world. In the meantime, some 7,800 miles away in Reading, Pennsylvania, it was noon. I was standing in the back yard of the house I grew up in. I was talking to my next door neighbor, a man named Anthony. Suddenly, we heard a very loud buzzing noise directly above our heads. We looked up to see a very strange sight.
“Do you see what I see?” Anthony said.
I shook my head, laughed, and answered,
“Yeah. That’s a plane flying backwards!”
Well, that was a conversation piece for years to come. We never could figure out what kind of plane could do that. We never saw the plane again.
Fast-forward exactly 28 years to the day, minus about eighteen hours, to Friday, October 1, 2010. I was standing behind the Coyote Moon Grille on the grounds of the Territory Golf Course in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. I was dressed in my ministerial attire, mentally preparing myself for the wedding ceremony I was about to officiate. Suddenly I heard that strange buzzing noise again. I looked up to see that plane flying backwards again! It was the only time I had seen it since the first time. It took no time before I realized the coincidence of the date. Instead of laughing at the irony, a bittersweet feeling came over me. Anthony had since passed away just a few years ago. Muktananda was leaving this world the first time I saw this plane, and now my head and heart are full of his teachings and his presence. I was only twenty years old then, and I am forty-eight years old now. So much of life has been lived in those years. All of these thoughts flooded my mind. As the plane flew over my head, going east toward the Saint Cloud Regional Airport, a tear came to my eye in wonderance of what this could possibly symbolize. I feel that a new era in life is about to begin.
Add to all this strangeness the absolutely bizarre dream I had just before 7:00 this morning. The alarm went off for my wife Bianca to get ready to start her day as a school teacher. Now I’ve had all sorts of very strange dreams over the years of my life. But I never had a dream like this. I was inside a building, and I didn’t know where I was. I was in a room that was deep blue in color. On a big screen TV, there was a very weird program playing. What started off as an adult entertainment film very quickly deteriorated into a horror show. I thought this was definitely not something I wanted to be watching, either way. While purposefully avoiding eye contact with the TV, I walked over to the large windows to see if I could get a clue as to where I was. I found that I was on the ground floor, looking out into a parking lot where a few cars were parked. I then turned to leave the blue room. Instead of pushing open the door, I walked THROUGH the door out into the hallway. I saw in a large meeting room down the hallway that a couple people were gathering. Instead of approaching them to ask where I was, I figured I’d venture through the building myself, using my newfound superhuman power of being able to walk through walls. Besides, maybe I didn’t even BELONG in that building? Next, I walked through a wall and found myself in a dark dressing room with curtained cubicles and hospital gowns. Was I in a clinic of some sort? Then I thought I’d get really adventurous, and I walked through the wall behind the dressing room. That’s when I ended up in a cold place where I couldn’t see a thing. The dream then came to a sudden end as the alarm clock rang. The alarm probably woke me from my dream at just the right time.
This dream left me shaken and wondering. Just the night before, I had performed two Reiki sessions in a row. I equated being able to “walk through walls” with being able to penetrate through, very clearly, the walls within the subconscious mind. The Reiki sessions had more to do with helping people find clarity in their life choices rather that helping them to heal from some kind of ailment. Was I not using the healing gift I was given for what it was intended? Was I going into places where I didn’t belong because I was actually reckless? And what about the horrid show that was playing on TV? Somehow I intuited that it had something to do with the naivete of years gone by, particularly during the period of time when I first lived far from home when I moved to Valparaiso, Indiana n 1993. Was the building I was in my own clinic? Were the people in the meeting room coming to hear me speak? Was I trying to escape from them? Many thoughts and contemplations ran through my mind until I was finally able to fall back to sleep.
One thing that I considered odd is that this all happened on the first day of what I consider the most reflective, bittersweet time of the year – the months of October and November. Last year at this time, I felt such a deep sadness and, I ended up having a stroke. The rest of the months of October and November would be marked by profound sleep disturbances. While I feel happier and much healthier this year, I feel that this time the Universe is bringing about a profound change. Today’s events seemed quite evident of that! But is it a good thing or a bad thing? Muktananda once wrote a book entitled “Where Are You Going?” Perhaps Muktananda wanted to remind me that I need to be contemplating this question right now by sending that airplane flying backwards over my head.
“Do you see what I see?” Anthony said.
I shook my head, laughed, and answered,
“Yeah. That’s a plane flying backwards!”
Well, that was a conversation piece for years to come. We never could figure out what kind of plane could do that. We never saw the plane again.
Fast-forward exactly 28 years to the day, minus about eighteen hours, to Friday, October 1, 2010. I was standing behind the Coyote Moon Grille on the grounds of the Territory Golf Course in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. I was dressed in my ministerial attire, mentally preparing myself for the wedding ceremony I was about to officiate. Suddenly I heard that strange buzzing noise again. I looked up to see that plane flying backwards again! It was the only time I had seen it since the first time. It took no time before I realized the coincidence of the date. Instead of laughing at the irony, a bittersweet feeling came over me. Anthony had since passed away just a few years ago. Muktananda was leaving this world the first time I saw this plane, and now my head and heart are full of his teachings and his presence. I was only twenty years old then, and I am forty-eight years old now. So much of life has been lived in those years. All of these thoughts flooded my mind. As the plane flew over my head, going east toward the Saint Cloud Regional Airport, a tear came to my eye in wonderance of what this could possibly symbolize. I feel that a new era in life is about to begin.
Add to all this strangeness the absolutely bizarre dream I had just before 7:00 this morning. The alarm went off for my wife Bianca to get ready to start her day as a school teacher. Now I’ve had all sorts of very strange dreams over the years of my life. But I never had a dream like this. I was inside a building, and I didn’t know where I was. I was in a room that was deep blue in color. On a big screen TV, there was a very weird program playing. What started off as an adult entertainment film very quickly deteriorated into a horror show. I thought this was definitely not something I wanted to be watching, either way. While purposefully avoiding eye contact with the TV, I walked over to the large windows to see if I could get a clue as to where I was. I found that I was on the ground floor, looking out into a parking lot where a few cars were parked. I then turned to leave the blue room. Instead of pushing open the door, I walked THROUGH the door out into the hallway. I saw in a large meeting room down the hallway that a couple people were gathering. Instead of approaching them to ask where I was, I figured I’d venture through the building myself, using my newfound superhuman power of being able to walk through walls. Besides, maybe I didn’t even BELONG in that building? Next, I walked through a wall and found myself in a dark dressing room with curtained cubicles and hospital gowns. Was I in a clinic of some sort? Then I thought I’d get really adventurous, and I walked through the wall behind the dressing room. That’s when I ended up in a cold place where I couldn’t see a thing. The dream then came to a sudden end as the alarm clock rang. The alarm probably woke me from my dream at just the right time.
This dream left me shaken and wondering. Just the night before, I had performed two Reiki sessions in a row. I equated being able to “walk through walls” with being able to penetrate through, very clearly, the walls within the subconscious mind. The Reiki sessions had more to do with helping people find clarity in their life choices rather that helping them to heal from some kind of ailment. Was I not using the healing gift I was given for what it was intended? Was I going into places where I didn’t belong because I was actually reckless? And what about the horrid show that was playing on TV? Somehow I intuited that it had something to do with the naivete of years gone by, particularly during the period of time when I first lived far from home when I moved to Valparaiso, Indiana n 1993. Was the building I was in my own clinic? Were the people in the meeting room coming to hear me speak? Was I trying to escape from them? Many thoughts and contemplations ran through my mind until I was finally able to fall back to sleep.
One thing that I considered odd is that this all happened on the first day of what I consider the most reflective, bittersweet time of the year – the months of October and November. Last year at this time, I felt such a deep sadness and, I ended up having a stroke. The rest of the months of October and November would be marked by profound sleep disturbances. While I feel happier and much healthier this year, I feel that this time the Universe is bringing about a profound change. Today’s events seemed quite evident of that! But is it a good thing or a bad thing? Muktananda once wrote a book entitled “Where Are You Going?” Perhaps Muktananda wanted to remind me that I need to be contemplating this question right now by sending that airplane flying backwards over my head.
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