I'm still not even sure how I convinced my husband to agree to marry me, although I know kidnapping him to a secluded cottage in the Blue Mountains of Australia and providing beer definitely helped.
|All this and beer? Who could say no?|
Somehow, I've managed to help people in my life understand what James needs in order to thrive. I'm lucky that 99% of the people involved agree with me, or I don't think we would have gotten this far.
Then there is that other 1%. The one that I can not find the strength to stand up to and defend my position of what my son needs. You know the one. I wrote about him in He Just Looked At Me. He Doesn't Have Autism.
I got so much support from your responses after that post. Many suggested I send the post to him to read (which I did. In my mind). A few of you had incredibly humorous ideas of how I should respond, and I thank you for providing all manners of potential vindication for my imagination.
Here's the thing. I have to go see him tomorrow. Again.
Tony and I agreed that he would deal with the next appointment while I looked for a new doctor, but James' recent behavior has me concerned enough about the medicine that I need to go. Tomorrow.
I'm trying to find the strength, but I'm already flustered just thinking about it, and this pit in my stomach just makes me want to cancel the appointment and hide out in my house. And although that is how I often deal with my own issues, I can't do that to James.
He is depending on me, and I have been entrusted to be his advocate.
So, tomorrow morning, I'll be back in that small, stifling office, uncomfortable as hell. But I'll have the copy of that post in my bag.
Just by having that with me, I will feel like all of you are standing by my side, and that pit in my stomach might just go away so I can help the doctor understand what James needs to thrive.
And if it still doesn't go away, I'll just think of all those other ideas you had...