AZ front page autism article

[Guest guest]

No mention of the cause or increase in autism however they do mention

he was born with autism and a big link to autismspeaks.org

http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/0902ThatBoy-redo.html#comment

A painful choice to save a family

Faherty

The Arizona Republic

Sept. 2, 2007 12:00 AM

When police officers finished binding her son Colin's hands and feet,

they turned to Abernethy and asked what she wanted them to do

with him.

It felt like every moment of the past decade led to this question.

Colin, then 12 years old, had severe autism. His disability had grown

to shape the Abernethy family. knew that her answer to the

officer's question would define it forever.

She thought first of Colin.

She thought of her other children. They already had seen and

experienced too much.

She thought of her husband, Jim, who once told her that if they

placed Colin outside the home, he would never be able to see his son

again. He would be too ashamed.

knew the answer but was surprised to hear herself say it: Take

my son.

It was at that moment two years ago that the Abernethys began the

process of breaking their family apart in order to save it.

.. . .

By the time Colin was a very young boy, Abernethy knew he was

not like other kids.

" I would take him to the park, and he would just run, " she said. " He

would never look back. Most kids turn back to look for their mom and

dad when they get to a natural boundary. He never looked back,

never. "

Colin was diagnosed at 18 months.

Autism is a neurological disorder with a wide spectrum of behaviors.

There is no cure.

Colin didn't speak. He didn't connect with anybody. He seldom looked

at his parents.

The Abernethys treated his illness aggressively. They worked with

doctors, psychiatrists and therapists to get him the best care.

They worked with his teachers in special education in the Madison

School District.

quit her job as a nurse to take care of Colin and the other

children.

But Colin continued to struggle at home.

Like many children with autism, Colin finds comfort in routine. In a

large family, that is in short supply.

" The lack of consistency was too much for Colin, " Abernethy

said. " Family is hectic. School is going to call. Soccer practice

gets changed. A kid gets sick. There is always something. And it was

all too much for Colin. "

The Abernethys were realizing that the thing they loved the most,

their family, was a big reason why Colin was becoming unmanageable.

As he grew older, Colin's outbursts were becoming more common and

more violent.

And they were usually directed at his mother.

" He was such an imposing figure, " , 42, said.

When Colin was at school, there was respite for , but it was

temporary.

" The bus delivered him to the front door every day. He would come

home, and I would be petrified. "

Some days he would run into the home, drop his book bag and start

hitting her.

" Living with Colin was like living with an abusive spouse, "

said. " You never knew what was going to set him off. "

Colin's doctor, Dr. Berger, told her it was common for someone

like Colin to lash out at the person he is most comfortable with.

wore long-sleeved shirts to hide her bruises and bite marks,

but she knew Colin's behavior was beginning to damage her entire

family, something she and her husband had vowed would never happen.

" You try to protect your kids from things, but the violence they have

seen is not something any child should ever see, " said. " He

was our burden; he was not our kid's burden. "

.. . .

Connor Abernethy, then 9, shared a room with his brother Colin.

Getting Colin down for the night was never easy.

" We would close his door and just pray that it remained closed, " Jim

said.

One night, after a particularly difficult day, the boys were in their

room and, finally, asleep.

The parents were sitting and listening to the sudden silence of a

house full of sleeping children.

Then Connor emerged from his room and told his parents he had a

headache.

" You've got to keep in mind that Connor is a kid who never complains

about anything, and all I could think to do was get him back into

that room, " Jim said.

They rushed to the medicine cabinet, gave Connor aspirin, and all but

pushed their child back into his room.

When the door shut, Jim realized that he had lost control of his

family.

" I stood there and I said, 'This has got to end.' "

Jim Abernethy, 41, comes from a family of six kids in Queens, N.Y.,

and he places great value in keeping the family intact.

The Abernethys tiptoed around the issue of placing Colin sometimes

and argued about it other times.

Jim could no longer deny Colin's presence in the home was harming

their other children.

" His violence was extraordinary, " Jim said. " He was uncontrollable at

the end, and it was all going on in the house in front of the kids.

He was assaulting my wife. "

There were at least six calls to 911 from the Abernethy home in the

two years before Colin left.

More people, including Colin's doctor and psychiatrist, advised the

Abernethys to consider removing Colin from the home.

Jim remained reluctant to place his own son, who cannot communicate,

into a group home.

" My primary concern is that he would not be able to tell me if he was

abused in any way. "

.. . .

The night told police that Colin could no longer stay in their

home, he was handcuffed to a gurney and taken by ambulance to St.

Luke's Behavioral Health Center in Phoenix.

As he was admitted, Colin began to realize what was happening.

" It lasted about 35 minutes. Banging his head. Ripping off his

clothes with his mouth, " said.

During his four weeks there, a spot was found for him in a group home

about 5 miles west of the Abernethy home.

While Colin was in the hospital, his family moved his furniture and

clothes.

When they walked into the house, said to her son, " Colin, this

is your new home. "

He had no reaction.

The state's Division of Developmental Disabilities tries to keep

families together because it is usually best for the child. Placing a

child at a treatment facility is also costly for the state. Of the

16,680 children with developmental disabilities the division is now

serving, only 94 live in group homes.

was told repeatedly by the division to try to keep Colin at

home.

But she knew, and Colin's doctors knew, that he was becoming worse,

not better.

His stay at St. Luke's changed things.

The state reviewed his case and decided to place him in a home with

just one other teen.

The house is handsome and clean and staffed by at least two people 24

hours a day.

There is art on the walls and notes on the refrigerator, but it still

feels more like the waiting room for a large dental office than a

home.

Colin has made significant progress during his time there.

His psychiatrist has adjusted his medications, which has helped. Of

equal importance is that Colin now lives in a completely controlled

environment.

He wakes up at the same time every day. He is taken to school, and

then he sits down for dinner each night at exactly 6:30. After

dinner, he spends 20 minutes on a swing set.

He has not physically attacked anyone since his move.

As Colin's anxiety decreased, the Abernethys were able to start

seeing him more.

" We did not put him in the group home to not be part of the family, "

said.

Nearly every day Colin goes to the Abernethy home to spend time with

his family.

is certain she spends more time with her 14-year-old son than

anyone else she knows.

" It's great being able to just be his mom, " she said.

Although Colin has progressed, he remains highly uncomfortable around

people. He still spends hours every day shuffling a deck of animal

flash cards in a manner that seems to calm him. He remains non-

communicative.

Colin works with counselors on self-calming methods. He is learning

basic living skills such as how to clean and the value of money.

But he will never be well.

On his wall is a dry-erase board where writes her son notes:

Colin,

Your mom will be here to visit you tomorrow at the house around 8:45

a.m.!

Then you will go to OT around 2:30 p.m.

Colin will go to Mommy's house Wednesday.

.. . .

One day last school year, , then a seventh-grader at Madison

Meadows Middle School, sat down and wrote a poem about her brother.

She called it " That Boy, " and it described what she and her family

were going through.

read the poem after learning it won a districtwide

contest. " You think you're protecting your children from some

things, " she said, " but of course they know everything, see

everything. "

When Colin is home with his brother and sisters, he is a brooding

presence and remains the point around which everything revolves.

His siblings love him and ignore him like only family can.

They sit on the couch and talk to him and about him while he shuffles

his cards.

Maggie, 3, is just now realizing that Colin answers all of her

questions with a quick grunt that sounds like a yes.

It's a defense mechanism he uses for all questions, an attempt to end

a conversation as quickly as possible. It is beginning to infuriate

her.

, 13, clearly adores her brother and knows he would never hurt

them, but she also knows Colin hurt their mother.

Connor, 11, cuts his hair very short just like Colin's.

" Most of the memories I have of Colin are sad ones because it was

hard, " Connor said. " He would have tantrums, and he makes a lot of

noises. "

He pointed out that it was also nice to share a room with his big

brother.

" I used to be afraid of the dark. I'm not anymore. But it was nice to

have someone in the room with me. "

Colin has always been close to his maternal grandfather, Jim Gross of

Sierra Vista.

Recently, Gross came up for a visit and found Colin sitting on the

family couch, shuffling his cards.

Gross, 68, leaned over and kissed his grandson. Then the two of them

held their foreheads together.

Colin did not smile, but for a moment it looked like he recognized

the world around him.

Then in his rapid monotone he said, " Jeopardy, Jeopardy, Jeopardy, "

his favorite show.

At once his brother and sister told him the show will begin at 4:30,

and he was quiet again.

Despite the progress Colin has made, moving him home is not an option.

The Abernethys have to think of all of their children and are certain

Colin would revert to his more troubled ways.

" Would I be keeping my child at home for him or for me? " said.

The Abernethy house is a place where everything works but nothing is

perfect. There is very little art. The furniture does not match. The

walls could use a fresh coat of paint.

It is also the home of three children still trying to navigate their

family minus Colin.

Their brother continues to define who they are, but now it is his

absence that forms them.

" At first it felt kind of empty, " said, " like he was not here.

Weird. "

" But now it feels right. Perfect. Sad but perfect. "

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