From the Autism Awareness Centre, Inc. Blog:
Dr. Andrew McDonnell, creator and founder of
Studio III UK and the
Low Arousal Approach, was recently at my home to meet my family. He commented that my home embodies the tenets of low arousal. It got me to thinking – what have we done to make it that way? How have we kept life on an even keel with two young adults with autism?
Routines
Since our children have been young, they’ve had established routines around mealtimes, bedtime, hygiene, getting dressed, and weekday and weekend schedules. Weekends are more relaxed, but their daily living routines are still intact. Routines create
predictability and lessen anxiety. They also encourage autonomy. For example, snack time is at 4 pm. At 3:55 pm, my daughter goes to the kitchen and prepares her own snack.
From an early age, we also fostered flexibility by adding the word “surprise” to the visual schedule. This helped the kids to understand that a surprise or something unexpected didn’t mean a bad thing; in fact, in could be fun. They are still flexible with schedules as adults.
Our routines have also changed as they kids have aged. Bedtime is now 10:30 pm. With no school anymore, waking up in the morning is a little bit later (and boy, are they happier without the morning rush). Schedules are created to fit their needs and what works best for their body clocks and down times.
If something in the routine is going to change, like having to get up earlier the next day, I tell the kids the night before. If the change is bigger, like going away on a
holiday, we start talking about that a couple of weeks in advance. This length of notice can be anxiety-provoking for some people; you have to know what works best for your child.
A Quiet Retreat
There are places to go in our home where one can sit quietly and be undisturbed. Our son, Marc, uses his bedroom for this purpose daily. He retreats to read aloud to himself or to meditate to music. Julia wears noise-cancelling headphones when she needs complete silence. There are always opportunities to withdraw and regroup throughout the day.
A Predictable Environment
My husband and I also follow routines for ourselves so the kids know what we are doing and when. Marc enjoys looking at my daytimer everyday to see what appointments I have. When I am travelling, I leave a detailed schedule of what will happen in my absence.
We don’t allow people to drop by unannounced for visits. If people are coming over, we let the kids know in advance who is coming and when. We keep our voices down and never fight in front of the kids. Once they are in bed, we keep the TV low or we do quiet activities like read or practice yoga.
Organization
Having an organized home can maintain a sense of calm. Knowing where things are or where they go after you’ve used them creates order and predictability. This also fosters independence, because if you know where the item lives, it’s easy to find and put back. Our books, CDs and videos are organized by topic/genre. Marc’s Thomas the Tank Engine trains are all in one big basket in his room. All snacks are located in a central drawer in the kitchen. Hats and gloves are in an easy-to-reach drawer below the coats.
Why organize the books, DVD’s and CD’s? We allow our kids access to everything, but that could potentially be overwhelming if there wasn’t a system. Both kids think categorically, so arranging “like” items helps them to find what they’re interested in independently, but also expands on the interest with related topics nearby.
Bedtime
Sleep issues are often a problem for those with ASD, and our kids have been no exception. To encourage better sleep habits, we begin to lessen sensory input two hours before bedtime. There are no TVs on past 8:30 pm. There is no screen time allowed in the bedroom, although there are some screen rituals before the final lights out. Marc watches a few scenes from one movie of his choice on his DVD player for a set time. He then puts the player away and turns out his lights. Julia has some iPad time, but that has to be put away outside of her room before bed.
Bathtime starts two hours before lights out, so that there is plenty of time to unwind, and no one feels cheated out of doing things they like to do before bedtime.
Respect
Our home is also our children’s home, and as parents, we’ve always believed that Marc and Julia should have a say in their own lives. We’ve offered them choices from the time they were little, respected their wishes, allowed them to say “no”, and gave them access to the things that are in our home. We’ve supported their interests and helped them expand them so that they don’t get bored or stuck. They participate in making their schedule, so they can choose what works for them.
Regular Exercise
Regular exercise alleviates stress, lowers anxiety, and helps with sleep. We make sure our kids have regular exercise several times a week. Marc has an at-home yoga program which he is now able to practice on his own.
Teach calming strategies as well. Julia has deep breathing exercises and some calming tools like a
Tangle Toy, and Marc meditates with his eyes closed to classical music. We worked on these strategies from the time they were 4 years old.
When Upsets Occur
When there are tense moments or the kids feel upset, there are several strategies that we use. We speak slowly, softly and calmly, but overall, we try not to talk too much. We reduce household noise, increase personal space, and generally don’t touch when agitation is present. Most of the time, we can distract them by mentioning something they like. For Julia, it’s talking about our cat, Mr. Darcy.
We don’t argue with the kids in the heat of the moment. We also reduce requests or demands when stress levels are rising. I also try to pull back on demands if a transition is occurring. With the end of school, new staff in our home, and new routines going into place, the past three months have been about keeping stress levels as low as possible and reducing demands.
Learning about the
Low Arousal Approach finally gave me a name and framework for what we’ve been practicing in our home for years.
To learn more, read
Managing Family Meltdown, No Fighting, No Biting, No Screaming, or
Managing Aggressive Behaviour in Care Settings.
Share Your Experiences with the Disability Tax Credit
Autism Canada is proud to be taking a leadership role for all Canadians as it pertains to issues surrounding the Disability Tax Credit, as well as the secondary problem of how this impacts people’s Registered Disability Saving Plans.
On November 30, 2017, Autism Canada held a press conference in Ottawa. At the time of that press conference, we had heard from just over 140 people telling us their Disability Tax Credit application stories. As of today we have 320 stories. In order to effectively advocate for a more equitable and transparent procedures, we need to gather as much information as possible.
It is crucial that we keep hearing from families and autistic individuals about their experiences applying for, or maintaining, their Disability Tax Credit. It is also essential that we hear from professionals who are asked to complete the forms.
Here are some of the media outlets that have covered the story to date:
Transitions: Care and Support for Adults Living with Autism
Tanya Kendall, ACP Clinical Manager, Edmonton Oliver Primary Care Network
The lack of coordinated, autism-knowledgeable health and mental health care for the rapidly growing number of adults with autism in Alberta is a critical issue.
Edmonton Oliver Primary Care Network, in partnership with the Sinneave Family Foundation and the Glenrose Rehabilitation Hospital, initiated an exciting new service for adults with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) in the greater Edmonton area in 2015.
The Program
After an investigation, three major areas of medical need were identified:
- A diagnostic service for adults suspected of having autism,
- An autism-friendly primary medical care home for adults living with ASD, and
- A consultation service to support physicians who have adults with autism in their medical practice.
Our goal is to champion a person-centred ASD medical home and, with that intent, we have established an “autism-friendly” primary care medical service for adults with ASD. Following a series of educational sessions, we opened our doors to adults with ASD who did not have a family physician.
Our program includes a psychiatrist with training in this area, autism-aware physicians, and a multidisciplinary team who liaise and collaborate within the network. The group of doctors and the health team address basic and complex medical and behavioral issues, and provide links to specialists as needed.
The Process
Referrals and inquiries are sent through our mental health intake to a navigator who tracks all intake information and coordinates needed care and services on a case-by-case basis.
The process is: Referral → Intake Interview by Social Work Navigator → Shared Care Meeting (Patient, Caregiver, Doctor & Social Worker) → Specialized Support and Links to Community Resources → Ongoing Care and Follow-up.
The Results
Since inception in the fall of 2015:
- We have received 56 referrals;
- Fifty patients were contacted, and 37 patients were accepted into the program (32 with current ASD diagnosis; 5 with suspected ASD).
- Thity-seven patients were seen, with a mean appointment wait time of 18.3 days from time of referral.
- Fifteen referrals were made to internal PCN services [mental health (n=11),CDM Nurse (n=2)]. Twenty-four referrals were made to external services [psychiatry (n=16), Lifespan Diagnostic Clinic (n=4), other, (n=4)].
- All 37 patients who were seen by the program were attached to a family physician for ongoing follow-up.
The Patient Experience
Here is some of the feedback offered by patients:
- It was easy to make an appointment
- Clinic staff treated them with courtesy and respect
- Staff listened well to them
- Staff worked with them to meet their needs
- Their health needs were met at the clinic
- Staff really found out what their concerns were
- They were satisfied with the care they received at Transitions
- They had a high level of overall satisfaction with their medical home
Moving Forward
Our plan is to continue to increase patient intake, keep expanding services to additional clinics, and support the physicians and clinicians. We also plan to implement the EQ-5D measurement standards as an indicator of areas of patient health improvement and as a guide to further program development. We will also continue to collaborate with the Glenrose Rehabilitation Hospital, share our way-finding and information, and build a toolkit to increase capacity in Primary Care Networks across the province.
For more information regarding the Transitions program, please contact the Edmonton Oliver PCN Mental Health Navigation team at 780-756-3434 ext 262 or
tkendall@edmontonoliverpcn.com
I dislike smiling. It’s not that I can’t smile or that I don’t smile – I simply find smiling strange and uncomfortable. Most of the time, I’d prefer not to.
This is not to say that I’m unhappy. I am a generally content, well-situated person with a lot to be thankful for. If you asked me at any given moment whether I was happy, I’d probably say yes. The problem is that for me, smiling and being happy are unrelated. There is little, if any, causal relationship between the one and the other.
I dislike smiling, but I do it anyway. I smile to be pleasant, to be polite, to show that I’m having a good time. I smile because, although I dislike smiling, I dislike appearing cold or indifferent even more. It’s an awkward and difficult way to express how I feel, but I’ve yet to find another way to make people understand that I really do care, that I’m not angry or upset.
I first learned to smile from a textbook of body language as a teenager. It’s mostly a matter of controlling the muscles at the corner of your eyes and trying not to look too much like a shark on land. Just exposing your teeth looks more like a threat than anything. I was surprised by just how much it changed people’s reactions to me. Surprised, because I had no idea that others were so unsettled by my narrow range of facial expressions. I had thought that they would understand my feelings as I stated them, rather than putting so much weight on whether or not I smiled or frowned.
As an autistic person, I have struggled with my desire to accurately portray my feelings and my equal desire to be an authentic, honest person. Communicating with people for whom body language and intonation are as vital as the words themselves means having to speak in a language of motion, pitch, and resonance that I find deeply unintuitive.
Because I do not myself naturally pay attention to body language or understand it, I am forever unsure of what precisely I am saying through the way that I move and hold myself. I cannot be certain that I am not miscommunicating or misleading, but at the same time I cannot simply say nothing: to say nothing is to allow the other person’s imagination to fill in the blanks with any number of things, unlikely to be true. To fake body language I do not intuitively understand is to risk causing offense; to refuse to fake that body language is to ensure it.
In the end, it is a matter of translation, of trying to stumble along in a second language. I am highly unlikely to ever measure up to the fluency and ease of a native speaker of the allistic social world, though I may achieve something almost imperceptibly similar, albeit with greater effort. I am always going to have an “accent” of sorts, an autistic speech impediment.
As a translator – a literal translator, not a metaphorical one – one must come to terms with the reality that communication across different ways of understanding the world is necessarily imperfect. You can translate a sentence, but you cannot translate the vast web of cultural cues and shared history necessary to understanding the language from which these words and ideas came. You can show your reader the surface of the language, but you cannot reveal its vast oceanic depths. The constraints of a single translated phrase simply do not allow it.
Communication between different minds is always imprecise. It is a reality born of the way in which we live divergent lives, think divergent thoughts, and experience divergent experiences. Neurological wiring is no more than an additional layer to the separation, albeit a not-unimportant one. It will always take more time, more effort, more experience with how the other person thinks to bridge those gaps – and sometimes, it will require us to speak in another language, one unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
I dislike smiling. It’s not a natural reflection of my feelings. I don’t smile because I’m happy – I smile because I want people to know that I am happy. Maybe that’s close enough.