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Our veterans go through a lot in the service of our country, so it is no surprise that this population is more prone to disabilities, both physical and mental. Fortunately, having a service dog can make your life easier when you're running errands and handling other daily activities. They can also help during periods of heightened anxiety or panic attacks. Today, SPORKS! outlines some ways that your new friend can improve your quality of life and enhance your overall happiness.
I hate the term “special needs.” There, I said it. I know that statement is going to raise the ire of some people, but I have good reasons for my antipathy.
Let’s start with the term “special.” When I looked up the word “special” in the dictionary, the definitions were “better,” “greater,” or “otherwise different from what is considered usual.” Does that mean that the term “special needs” refers to needs that are better? Probably not. Needs that are “greater?” Quite possibly. Needs that are “otherwise different from usual”? Also, quite possibly and most likely.
I never leave the hospital that day. Instead, I get the grim, but not surprising news, of finding out a disk ruptured. Essentially, the reason my nerves now felt like they were on fire was because rather than being only partially cut off, they were almost entirely cut off from the rest of my body. Which explains why my head was cocked at a forty-five-degree angle, it was to offset the severe balance problem of my brain not being able to communicate with my leg. So, surgery was inevitable, however, you’d think I’d be afraid at this point. The thing is, I wasn’t. At no point did them putting me under, or performing surgery around my spine even phase me. It just seemed like a necessary thing at this point. It was do or die for me.
And even when you spend the energy to correct and call it out, you then have the back and forth of having to explain exactly why it was problematic. The burden of that shouldn’t have to fall on Black people. Arline Geronimus coined the term weathering back in the late 70s to describe the impact of racial discrimination on Black people. She found that Black people had higher incidences certain illness due to the stressors that are common and chronic in their lives. This constant stress and the effect it has on the body is what Geronimus refers to as weathering.
How to tell him about his condition, and when to tell him became the question. Do you tell a two-year old about brain scans and Probst-bundles? Do you wait until he is ten and can fully process the science of it all? We decided, after much deliberation, to begin explaining this to Tim at such a young age that he would never be able to remember a day in his life when he didn’t know about ACC. We started by explaining in small ways, that his “thinker” was a little bit different from other people’s but that it was a good thing, because it made him special. Over time, we’ve come to refer to Tim’s ACC as Magic Brain, as in, “Tim has a Magic Brain.” We started with that when Tim was just about two years old.
As a parent of children with special needs, I think that setbacks are often the most discouraging part of our children’s journeys. We can go for days and weeks and months watching them make progress and believing they have mastered a skill, and during these periods, we begin to convince ourselves that all of the challenges are behind us. But just like Icarus, I tend to fly too high, and allow myself too much complacency. When the setback occurs, I tumble.
It is easy to become myopic in regards to the needs of my kids. I tend to hyper-focus on crafting an environment where my children can thrive without having to face the challenge of relating to other people. I so badly want ‘perfect’ for my kids, that I often overlook what the impact on the surrounding world will be. I’m that dad that at the park will intercede on behalf of my kids when someone cuts in line for the slide. While my intentions are good, there is no reason for me to jump in like that—the world we live in is one where my kids will need to know how to be patient, and have good social graces, even when those around them don’t.
“People with Borderline Personality Disorder, like you,” Michael started but his words trailed into terrifying darkness as I cast my eyes about the narrow room. Whom, I thought, is he addressing? Certainly, I don’t have Borderline. I went home and took every online self-assessment test for Borderline that I could locate. The diagnosis remained the same… severe Borderline Personality Disorder profile.
Ever determined, even after the doctor diagnosed her with fibromyalgia, she tried everything to help us feel better. She changed her diet, workouts, and hydration. Plus, she fed us many supplements. We soaked in bubbles and salts, enjoyed massages, took naps, and basked in heat, but nothing worked. We still love her and try to do what she asks, but she only resents us. She does not want us anymore. Yet every morning we wake up thinking, Today is the day! We will do anything she asks and more. We try. We truly do, but nothing works. We are sorry she dropped the razor in the shower again this morning because the flexors could not contract. We feel her frustration when she cannot easily get into and out of a jacket because the left Deltoid has frozen. We feel bad about that too.
That’s the challenge—getting a smart, strong-willed boy to do hard work when he doesn’t want to. Heather and I know that if Isaac isn’t pushed to work on his speech delay, the problems he has now will only become more deeply ingrained and difficult to correct later on. While his speech delay does impact to a degree how he interacts with others—and I’m speaking here of those who are not with him all the time—his delay has not yet created an overall reduction in his quality of life. But that will change: classmates and teachers alike will grow to have less and less patience with listening to Isaac, which means that he will struggle to be really heard.
