I am a little box,
With feelings locked inside,
But you can’t open me,
I have no key.
I am a little box,
With feelings locked inside,
But you can’t open me,
I have no key.
Deletions of chromosome 19 p13, in any form, are rare. Due to this, little is known about their effects on the human body within the scientific community.
Because there’s so little understanding of the effects of these deletions within the scientific community, there’s even less understanding, awareness and support for those who experience them, within the broader community.
My son has two chromosome 19 deletions which are found on the cytogenetic band p13.13 and p13.12.
This makes him a genetic rarity.
But my son would be the first to tell you that being rare is no fun at all when it comes at such a high physical and emotional price.
So this post is aimed at raising awareness of chromosome 19 p13 deletions within the broader community by providing information about their symptoms and the impacts they have for those, who like my son, live with their effects every day.
From the few studies that have been conducted on individuals with chromosome 19 p13.13 deletions, geneticists have been able to accumulate a list of conditions and symptoms that arise as a consequence of these deletions.
Known symptoms and conditions include nystagmus, vertigo/extreme dizziness, ataxia psychomotor delay, intellectual delay, gastrointestinal abdominal pain, vomiting, hypotonia, dyspraxia, epilepsy, and other neurological symptoms and a wide range of developmental and speech delays.
To put this list of symptoms into some form of context, my son has all these conditions.
Several, like vertigo, nystagmus, ataxia, dyspraxia, and abdominal pain, he experiences on a daily basis
Others, such as Migraines, vomiting and other neurological symptoms, he experiences weekly or even monthly.
All of these conditions, with the exception of epilepsy, which ceased affecting his life at the age of 7 for no apparent reason, are expected to affect him for the rest of his life.
In other words, his chromosome 19 deletions create health conditions for him that will never go away.
Which is why it’s vitally important that our society as a whole begin to develop an understanding of the way in which these deletions impact on the lives of all those who carry them.
Yet, I have found, that despite being able to list his symptoms and provide verification of their existence, trying to get others to understand and support my son in his daily life, is another matter entirely.
So, in order to try and increase awareness and understanding, here’s my attempt at providing a few hopefully, easily relatable examples of what it’s like to live a life with chromosome 19 p13 deletions.
Okay, here we go.
Have you ever tried to watch a movie or a TV show when the image keeps jumping up and down on the screen?
It usually ends up making you feel like you have motion sickness, right?
So you either turn the movie off, or fix the tracking so that you can see it clearly.
But, what if it’s not the tracking on the screen that’s the problem but the inability of your own eyes to accurately track everything you see?
How would you turn your tracking problem off?
Well, you could try closing your eyes and choosing never to look at anything ever again.
Apart from that, there’s absolutely nothing what so ever you can do to try and turn your tracking problem off because although nystagmus affects the eyes, it’s actually a neurological condition.
So, short of wearing a blindfold, you’ll have to accept that no matter what you do, or how much you want it to stop, your life will always be flicking before your very eyes.
This is what it’s like for my son to live with vertical nystagmus.
His world quite literally jumps about on him.
On a bad day, his rapid eye movements cause him a great deal of pain and he’ll often press his fingertips into his eyes until they pop, just to try to relieve the sense of pressure and pain it causes him.
Have you ever had that awful sensation of ‘light headedness’ that you get sometimes when you stand up too quickly and the world seems to swim and spin beneath you?
You know, the kind of dizzyingly disorienting sensation that makes you have to stop what you are doing for a few minutes, close your eyes, and wait until the feeling passes before you can go about your day?
Well for my son, that feeling of dizzy, light headedness or vertigo never goes away.
So on any given day, his vision is impaired; he’s dizzy, feeling light-headed and perhaps just a bit nauseous.
Then there’s the ataxia. The inability to control fine and gross motor muscle coordination.
So now, if you’re trying to imagine what it’s like to be my son, – you can’t see straight, you’re dizzy, feeling light-headed, nauseous and you can’t control your limbs.
If you’ve imagined yourself experiencing all of those things, then you’ll now have some idea of how the first triad of conditions, listed as being symptoms of p13.13 deletions, affect my son every day of his life.
Now imagine how difficult the combination of these symptoms make carrying out, even the simplest of tasks, for him?
Some mornings his vertigo and ataxia are so extreme that he cannot even manage to coordinate his limbs well enough to feed himself.
Given this, maybe you can also begin to imagine how much of a challenge attending college is for him.
The amount of effort and determination required just to be able to walk, talk, navigate and participate in college classes, while feeling this way, is enormous.
Yet every day he says that he wants to go to college.
Even though he gets growled at by staff and laughed at by other students for having to lean against the walls just to get from class to class.
Can you imagine how it must feel for him to be growled at for doing the best that he can?
Can you imagine how it must feel to know that no matter how hard you try, sometimes you just can’t do what’s being asked of you by your teachers because your body simply won’t let allow your limbs to coordinate themselves enough to even pick up a pen, let alone write anything down?
Then imagine what it would feel like if, while experiencing all of these things , instead of being offered any form of compassion, understanding or support, you’re told to go and sit outside, alone, in the corridor, until you feel better?
Great, now perhaps you can imagine exactly how frustrated, confused and let down my son feels every time his teachers respond to his difficulties in this way.
Not only does he have to deal with all of his health conditions, he also has to deal with ridiculous levels of ignorance and intolerance, from those who are supposed to be supporting him.
Yet it’s not just his teachers who show him such a lack of compassion and support.
It surrounds him virtually everywhere he goes.
His classmates accuse him of “bunging it on” to try and get out of school work.
His friends get angry with him for being “dizzy” all the time and ruining their fun.
Strangers stare and glare at him as if he’s doing something criminally wrong whenever he can’t walk a straight line and has to hold my arm for support.
Yet worst of all for him, is the level of constant negation that he experiences at the hands of health care professionals, who know nothing at all about chromosome 19 deletions, let alone understand the severity of the migraines he experiences or comprehend just how draining it is for him to suffer constant abdominal pains, for which, in their ignorance, they can find no cause for.
He cannot understand why the doctors aren’t helping him.
He cannot understand why his eye doctor can’t find any reason for his eye pain, let alone treat it.
He cannot understand why he’s being told that they can’t find a reason for his abdominal pain, when he knows for a fact that his abdomen hurts.
Some days a lot.
He cannot understand why, when he has so many health conditions to contend with, he see’s other people, with lesser issues, getting the help, support, understanding and acknowledgement for their issues, when he gets none.
He gets upset when he see’s reports on TV about children with rare conditions because he wants to know why no one cares about him and his rare condition.
And I, for my part, have no answers to give him.
All I can do is console him and remind him that I am doing my best to help others understand his needs.
But I’m just one person and so far, I’m not making much of a dent in the wall of ignorance, which surrounds his condition.
I am doing my best but progress is slow.
I know that my son is growing ever so tired of constantly feeling like he’s the only one.
So maybe, just maybe, this will help, a little.
Thank you for taking the time to read this and if you or anyone that you love or know, has a chromosome 19 p13.13 or p13.12 deletion, then please feel free to make contact.
“I recently got an email pitch from a company with a social skills product that claimed the product, “will enable [children with special needs] to be accepted by their peers throughout all aspects of their lives.”
I’m not actually sure what the product was because that sentence stopped me in my tracks.
“Be accepted.” I can’t stop thinking about that. “…will enable them to be accepted by their peers…”
I don’t even remember what the pitch was for because it made me so upset. Why the passive structure on that sentence? Why is the onus on the disabled to be accepted? Why is it our job to make you accept us?
Shouldn’t the real issue here be how to get the typical children to accept special needs kids?
I look at my beautiful, perfect, weirdo autistic son. He is not like his peers. He is also not always accepted. It would probably be easier in the long run for him to learn to “be accepted.”
Yet I look at him and the most damaging thing I can imagine saying to him is, “Maybe you should act like everyone else so kids like you more.”
Yes, I’ve put my son in social skills groups. Yes, I teach him about neurotypical society. Yes, I teach him how to navigate the world as it stands. But no, I do not teach him that he has to change so that the other kids will accept him. I tell him that I love him exactly the way he is. If kids are mean to him, I tell him that the problem is with them—not him.
I am a perfect example of someone who has adjusted her behavior to be accepted. At this point it is almost unconscious. I don’t know that it has been terribly damaging to do that. But it has been exhausting. And it is unfair.
I hear people making the argument all the time that people have to work to be accepted. I hear parents of typical kids, parents of autistic kids, and neuro-typical and neuro-diverse people alike say that you have to change yourself to fit in. To a degree, they are right. Most people work to get along with other people. We dress a certain way in business environments. We tend to alter our behavior based on the situation in which we find ourselves.
But these ways of fitting in and the fact that everyone does them doesn’t change the fact that society asks autistic kids and adults to change most of their behaviors and to deny their natural instincts for the purpose of becoming more palatable to the neuro-majority. Society isn’t asking autistic people to make the same adjustments as everyone else. Society is asking autistic people to suppress who they are almost all of the time.
Asking someone to change who they are to be accepted isn’t okay. It’s like asking a woman to learn not to be raped. It’s like asking a child to learn not to be abused. It’s like asking a victim to learn not to be bullied. I know those analogies aren’t exactly right, but that is what it feels like. If you want something to happen, you have to teach the actor—not the recipient.
I am happy that I hear more and more parents defending their kids’ rights to be who they are, society be damned, but I know that I also hear a lot of parents telling their kids that it is their job to fit in. I wonder if all parents—of both typical and autistic kids—stopped trying to help their kids fit in and just told them to be who they are—consequences be damned—if maybe those consequences would disappear.
Maybe the time has come to stop teaching our autistic kids to mold themselves into what society wants them to be. Maybe the answer isn’t to change autistic people until we are palatable to the world at large. Maybe we don’t need to keep working to “be accepted.”
Maybe the answer is to put the onus on everyone else to accept us.”
Article sourced directly from http://autismwomensnetwork.org/node/1634
“Many disabled children fail to reach their full potential because they continue to be marginalized in schools, health and social care, according to new research funded by the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC).
“We found that disabled children often experience discrimination, exclusion and even violence,” say Professor Dan Goodley and Dr Katherine Runswick-Cole, who implemented the study at the Manchester Metropolitan University. “The biggest barriers they meet are the attitudes of other people and widespread forms of institutional discrimination.”
“Disabled children are seldom allowed to play and act like other children because of concerns about their ‘leaky and unruly’ bodies. But our study shows that many children who don’t fit the narrow definition of ‘normal’ have untapped reserves of potential and high aspirations which can be fulfilled when their families receive effective support. There are also many amazing families who should be celebrated for the way they fight for their children.” continues Professor Goodley.
The aim of the Does Every Child Matter, post Blair? project was to find out what life is like for disabled children and young people in the context of policy changes set in motion by the New Labour Government after 1997. The Aiming High for Disabled Children policy agenda was intended to enable disabled children to be ‘healthy’, ‘stay safe’, ‘enjoy and achieve’, ‘make a positive contribution’ and ‘achieve economic well-being’.
The findings, which are based on a series of interviews with disabled children and their families, reveal numerous barriers to these goals, for example:
The researchers call for a change of attitude towards disability so that diversity is not only valued, but promoted. “There is an ‘epidemic’ of labelling children as disabled,” Professor Goodley and Dr Runswick-Cole warn. “Parents are repeatedly under pressure to talk about what their children can’t do in order to access services and support, but sometimes the label can obscure the individual. Families should be asked what support their child requires, not what is the ‘matter’ with him or her.”
Their report recommends that policy should prioritize enabling disabled children to break down barriers by supporting their participation in education, the arts, leisure and their communities and by meeting their communication requirements. “We need to re-think the culture of individualism and performance which pushes disabled children out” continue the researchers. “Pressures on schools are getting worse. We found a case where parents of non-disabled children petitioned to exclude a disabled child. What does this say about the meaning of education and community?”
The study found that bullying is often accepted as inevitable when disabled children are perceived as vulnerable. There were several layers of violence, from manhandling in school to psychological bullying, which often goes unnoticed by adults. Some children do however stand up to bullies and refuse to be limited by labels that are imposed upon them.
One young person insisted on attending Brownies meetings alone, despite health and safety rules that required her mother to accompany her. “Kids seem to enjoy challenging people’s expectations about their limitations,” the researchers commented.”
Originally sourced from http://www.esrc.ac.uk/news-and-events/press-releases/18605/disabled-children-do-matter.aspx
Educational inclusion is the process of integrating children with disabilities within public or private non-segregated (mainstream) educational facilities (Better Pathways, 2006:3). Cognitive disabilities (Autism, Asperger’s Syndrome, Intellectual or Global Delay, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) form the largest and fastest growing area of disability within educational inclusion (Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 2008:8; AEU, 2011:2).
This research therefore encapsulates parental perspectives on the fastest growing area of inclusion within our education system. In doing so it provides insight into an under investigated and increasingly contentious area of policy that holds social and political ramifications for both children with cognitive disabilities and their parents (Goodley and Runswick-Cole, 2011:604;Goodley, 2001: 207).
Parental experiences of educational inclusion are situated within an anti-discrimination policy framework. A framework which increasingly constructs the ideal of inclusive education as the standard form of educational practice within Australia (Better Pathways, 2006:3).
Within such contexts parents of children with cognitive disabilities are required to submit to multiple educational policies, processes and practices that other parents are not exposed too.
Predominant among these is the application of an Intelligence Quotient (IQ) rating in order to determine their child’s eligibility for accessing special educational facilities and funding (AEU, 2011:2; Education Standards, 2005:10).
This processes makes the allocation of funding for children with cognitive disabilities one of the most structurally controlled categories of disability within the inclusion process.
In Australia the qualifying IQ score for both accessing special educational facilities and government assistance for funding is that of 70 or below (AEU, 2011:2; Commonwealth of Australia, 2009:18).
Through applying qualifying IQ scores the Australian education system has significantly reduced the number of children with cognitive impairments eligible to access special education and funding (AEU, 2011:3).
The Australian Education Union (2011:3) state that as a consequence of the way in which the government applies qualifying IQ levels to both funding and accessing special education, “the rights of students with disabilities to be provided with special education” are being removed.
The AEU (2011:2) estimate that 94% of children with cognitive disabilities are not being accurately “recognised or supported” within the Australian education system.
This impacts predominantly on children with conditions such as Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), Asperger’s Syndrome, Global Delay, and ADHD, as they receive little to no funding within the process of educational inclusion (AEU, 2011:2).
Through restricting access to special educational facilities, parents of children with cognitive impairments within Australia are being structurally channelled into engaging within an inclusive education which in turn, through its own mechanism, actively denies parents the ability to access the appropriate supports their children require.
Parents within this study used the words, ‘fight’, ‘risk’ and ‘brutalisation’ to describe their experiences of their child’s process of educational inclusion within a system underpinned by the policies of educational equity for children with disabilities.
Such findings suggest that parental experiences of educational inclusion do not begin at the school gate. Rather they begin with the policies and processes that enable the education system to structurally define and dictate the practices of inclusion.
Parents described experiencing educational policies not as neutral legislation but as the discriminatory grounds from which their enforced compliance with the processes of categorising their child’s level of dis/ability begins. Such expressions suggest that from a parental perspective there is something fundamentally non-inclusive about an education system that tests, measures and defines children with cognitive disabilities in ways that deny them access to support.
This research further found that parents experience their child’s processes of inclusion within the Australian education system as discriminatory, oppressive and exclusionary. It found that parental experiences are constructed through the restrictions that the policy of mandatory education, when combined with educational inclusion, hold for them. These restrictions are experienced through the lack of special educational facilities available and the eligibility criteria applied to accessing them. Some parents expressed that due to these restrictions educational inclusion is not a choice for them but an enforced action.
Parents related experiencing the capacity of the education system to define, limit and remove their child’s access to resources and funding as creating both an implicit and explicit ‘threat’ (Goodley and Runswick-Cole, 2011:604). Parents further expressed that the lack of transparency and accountability the education system applies to the disbursement of funding gives them “no say” regarding how the practices of inclusion are implemented. This generated a sense of exclusion within parental perspectives due to the authority of the education system and school staff to define and decide how their children’s inclusion will be managed.
This was reflected in the “everyday encounters with disablism” that parents describe experiencing within the education system (Goodley and Runswick-Cole, 2011:609). These everyday encounters of discrimination, oppression, disablism and sense of ‘threat’ that parent’s experience can be identified as systemic violence (Goodley and Runswick-Cole, 2011:609). This is reflective of the recent work of Dan Goodley and Katherine Runswick-Cole (2011:610) who argue that both children with disabilities and their parents are being governed by the power of education systems to limit and control resources. As a result parents of children with cognitive disabilities are being structurally positioned and governed by the triad of policy, process and practice within educational inclusion.
This study found that parents express the need to have more educational choices for their children and to be given a say as to how their children’s levels of funding are established and applied. Parents within this study indicate an awareness of their exclusion from the policies, processes and practices of their child’s educational inclusion. Parents within this study express that they are actively seeking ways to generate their participation within their child’s process of inclusion. Despite this the education system maintains the power to control, define and limit the ways in which inclusion takes place through the combination of policy, process and practice. All of which currently exclude parents.
This research indicates that the settings in which the processes and practices of educational inclusion take place are becoming key sites through which parents of children with cognitive disabilities experience disablism (Goodley and Runswick-Cole; 2011, 608; Ryan & Runswick –Cole, 2008:199; Brett,2002:835; Avery, 1999:118) and systemic violence(Goodley and Runswick-Cole, 2011;610).
I see your true colors,
Even when others don’t!
Love isn’t in your eyes baby girl,
It’s in your heart.
Can you tell,
Just by looking,
That this beautiful girl,
Has Asperger’s Syndrome?
Can you tell,
Just by looking,
Is just too much,
Can you tell,
Just by looking,
That sometimes this world,
Makes her feel,
Can you tell,
Just by looking,
That she is,
The most precious gem,
In the world,
Can you tell,
Just by looking,
My daughter is just one,
Of the many girls,
Now being diagnosed,