Living
with a cognitively challenged child is,
well…challenging! It also has its humorous
moments. Comic relief arrives, just when you
are ready to pull out your hair!
Although
little Matthew, our adopted son who is both
Downs syndrome and autistic, did not walk until
he was three years old, he certainly made up for
it by becoming a "runner." (A runner is a child
who gives no signal before darting outside and
running flat out.) This is a serious,
life-threatening problem when the child is
severely limited mentally, as Matthew is. He
has no sense of his bodily needs-no sense of
pain when injured, no sense of cold or heat. He
has no common sense to draw upon--just his raw
instincts.
If Matthew has
an area of savant (genius), it would be getting
out of locked rooms. He is an expert in
unlocking locked doors-I know, because while he
lived at home there were at least three locks on
each exterior door to our house. Still he
managed to unlock them and take off running
without shoes, socks or a jacket. Given the
type of weather we had in Saskatchewan
(temperatures can average -30 C in the winter)
leaving the house inappropriately dressed was
NOT a good idea.
I can't count
the number of times he escaped so quickly and
silently we had to enlist our neighbors to help
with the hunt for him. With a shout of,
"Matthew's out!" an army of parents and youth
would spread in every direction. If more than
15 minutes passed, I called the
police.
Keeping to the
15-minute rule, one time I was rushing back to
the house to phone the police when I noticed a
small yelp coming from the dog house. It was a
slightly different pitch than Gus the basset
hound's voice. When I got to the back yard, the
gate to the dog-run was shut and locked and to
this day! I don't know how Matthew scaled
six-foot smooth planks to get inside, but there
he was, in the dog house, making doggie
sounds.
When Matthew
was three years old, he attended a special
pre-school for children who were in need of
extra special attention. I warned the staff that
he was a runner and could unlatch any lock on
the doors of their institution. They gave me a
look of "pity" and assured me he could not
escape while under their watchful
eyes.
Of course, he
did. And of course they called me when he did
escape which only served to heighten my
anxiety-finally; I had to instruct them not to
call me until after he was found, since I could
do nothing constructive when they lost him. It
didn't take long for the school to place special
locks on every exit (something like airplane
seat-belts) as they conceded their inability to
supervise him.
Keeping
Matthew safe was a huge challenge in a family as
large as ours. With five children, ranging in
age from six to sixteen keeping all the doors
locked, while acknowledging the other's need for
freedom to come and go, was nearly impossible.
I thought I had the problem licked when, one
day, I heard the garage door opening. I knew I
was alone in the house with Matthew and my
husband was at work, so how could someone open
the garage door??? It was Matthew! He had
unfastened three locks on the door leading to
the garage, and then pressed the button to open
the garage door with a broom handle. The garage
door button had recently been relocated at the
six foot level because he knew what THAT button
was for!
One constant
source of concern was the gate leading to the
backyard along the side of the garage. It was
an old heavy wood thing, which was constantly in
need of repair. My oldest son had rigged a rope
around the first plank and the post, as a
temporary "fix" of this outlet. I knew this was
not going to last long and it didn't. I left
Matthew alone in the backyard for less than
three minutes and when I returned, he was gone!
And the gate was wide open!
I dashed to
the front of the house where I could see him
riding his little green tractor for all he was
worth, right down the middle of the street!
"God! He's half-way to the zoo!" I panicked. He
was so far gone and so small and low to the
ground, I was afraid a driver in a car might not
see him. I reasoned that if I ran down the
middle of the road after him, drivers would see
me and slow down.
There I was,
running down the middle of the street leading to
the zoo, slowly gaining on a small boy riding
his green plastic tractor, when a police car
pulled up beside me. The officer rolled down
the window and in a serious tone asked, "Ma'am
would you like me to give him a ticket for
speeding?"
With an
official police escort, I was able to catch up
with and bring Matthew home safely.
You better
believe THIS autistic boy is a real
Houdini!
