August 16, 2002
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So a while back I mentioned that I went to see the rock-star autism doc, and that I felt like a corner had been rounded. Except I didn’t use those words because they seemed trite.
A few days ago I went for the actual testing. The unofficial word was that yes, Asperger’s syndrome was a likely diagnosis. The tester was going to have to talk to the rockstardoc so as to make it final, but it seemed obvious to him.
The testing was interesting. There were a lot of questions about early childhood… interests, social interaction, areas of obsessive interest. That was the interview section. There was also a ‘play’ section (for lack of a better term). The tests had been designed for little kids, so there I was, 34, in a room full of bean bags and toys.
Mostly we just continued the interview because I could easily describe what the tester was after. Little kids aren’t as articulate as I am.
The last test of this phase (and in fact the last test of the day) was the most revealing to me. The setup was that we both chose five items from a pile of small toys. I was to make up a radio newscast linking the objects together. The tester demonstrated, making up a silly story linking a playing card, a bit of string, a toy milk carton, etc. Then he immediately said, “Ok, your turn,” and stared at me, smiling.
I couldn’t do it. Regular readers of my ‘blog know that I’ve done tasks like this before. It was the social expectation that crippled me. If someone had demanded that I make up that story about the shower amenities, I might not have been able.
After watching me being trapped in emotional vapor-lock for a while, the tester finally said, “Is it too much for you?” And I had to answer yes. I told him that if he hadn’t been around I might have been able to do it. He said that he half expected me to have this reaction.
That’s my problem in a nutshell. He wasn’t even being threatening; his mere presence and rule-making turned my creative self off completely. Extrapolate this reaction outward to the vast majority of social interaction, and we end up with an under-achieving Homer.
If I’m a loser, it’s because I’m built this way.
Comments (6)
If you are a loser, then *I* am a huge one with a capital L – O – S – E – R.
And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
You know, I’m going to ignore the “loser” comment.
I’m thrilled for you…I know how important it is to have a diagnosis…a place to start…I hope you send letters to everyone who has ever suggested that you could “do better” if you really “wanted to”.
Grrr.
On an entirely different subject all together, sort of…I love you. But you knew that already.
And in case I’d never mentioned it, you’re pretty darn beautiful, strong and all around extraordinary yourself.
Love
Feithy
You’re not a loser!
My son and I have Asperger’s. But we are just called very wierd…
Oy! It’s getting to the point where everybody that’s anybody is Asperger’s. No, I’m not putting you down, gosh knows I’ve gone through a whole diagnostic manual of possibilities for my own weird self. I’m beginning to feel a little resentment that smart people who aren’t necessarily socialized in the normal ways are considered to have something wrong with them. Maybe it’s something right and the rest of the world is deficient in some important qualities. *We’re* certainly not the ones screwing the world up.
You’re not a looser – especially since you’re obviously a competant adult human being right now – a diagnosis of Asperger’s – well lets just say it could be totally worse right? I don’t know why PDD’s have been showing up so much lately, but they are. You’re not a loser.
AMEN Sylva!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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