Showing posts with label advocate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advocate. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

This Shouldn't Even Be Their Choice

                                      knee scooter                         comprehensive AAC app


Imagine this: you've had an accident, and one of your legs was badly injured. You endure a period of rest and immobility, and then the time comes for you to get back on your feet---but you can’t. The weakness, the pain, the coordination issues . . . that leg is just not ready to do its job quite yet. You meet with a physical therapist and a doctor and discuss different tools that can aid your mobility, and you ask about the one-legged scooter that you have researched diligently online---it will take the weight off of your bad leg and allow you to move quickly, keeping up with everyone in many environments (let’s pretend you live in a fully ramp-accessible world for this imaginary scenario). You have been waiting for a long time to get off the sidelines and are eager to get the scooter, which can help you get around until you have your strength.

Imagine this: You are a child who has no speech, or very limited speech. You are frustrated (or rage-y, or sad, or dejected, or deflated) when you want things, or feel things, or want to comment on things, or have a question about something, or want to boss someone around, or need to get someone’s attention, or have something really funny to say . . . because no one understands. Or some people understand sometimes but then other times they are wrong and it’s not-really-even-worth-telling-them-they’re-wrong-because-you-can’t-figure-out-how-to-tell-them-the-right-thing-anyway. You meet with a speech therapist and a teacher and they sometimes are very fun but sometimes it’s all just hard work. Your mom comes to talk with them, and you hear them talking about something, some device, that will help you talk to people. You’ve been waiting for a long time to get off the sidelines and you need a way to communicate, effectively, with as little effort as possible, until you have the means to communicate with speech.


But then, something strange happens. They decide that you shouldn’t get the scooter just yet.


But then, something strange happens. They decide that you shouldn’t get a device to help you communicate just yet.


First, they aren’t sure that you can even use a scooter . . . they’ve never seen you even show an interest in scooting. They say that the scooter is so fast and effective that you may just lose interest in ever trying to walk independently. They think that you may just perseverate on the fun of wheeled scooter, spinning in circles, being totally irresponsible as you speed aimlessly around, never bothering to actually wheel yourself where you are supposed to go.  They think that the wheeled scooter is very complex, what with the moving pieces and the brakes and the features that need to be learned . . . and based on your previous interactions with them, they aren’t sure that you’re capable of managing it.

They think that first you have to prove that you’re capable of managing something without wheels, to work up the mobility hierarchy. It is determined that you will start with a cane-if you are successful you may graduate to two canes, then to crutches, then to a wheeled office chair (to be used only when you’re seated in your office, possibly to be expanded to home use if you are successful), then to the wheeled scooter. The wheeled scooter is a very good option for those who have mastered the other mobility options, but they don’t want to overwhelm you with too much speed and freedom. They’ve always given the cane first.

First, they aren’t even sure that you can use a speech generating device, or whether you would be interested. They say that an SGD is so stimulating and fun that you may just lose interest in even trying to speak with your voice. They think that you might just stim on the pictures and buttons and sounds of the device, hitting button after button and never bothering to learn how to actually communicate with it. They think that a full-bodied AAC device/app is too big: too many words, too many options, too much navigation . . . and based on what they’ve seen from you, they aren’t sure that you’re capable of managing it.

They think that first you have to prove that you’re capable of managing something no- or low-tech. It is determined that you will start with a low tech device with a field of 6 choices (to be determined by an adult who will pick the things that they want you to “say”). If you can manage a field of 6 it will increase to 12, then maybe to 32, and then (if you stay focused for a few months) possibly to something with a dynamic screen and more reasonable vocabulary size (to be used only at school during snack time initially, then also in circle time, and possibly to be expanded to home use if you are successful). The dynamic screens of AAC apps/devices are great options for those who have proven their capabilities, but they don’t want to overwhelm you with something too complicated from the start. They always give low tech first.


This doesn’t seem fair.


This doesn’t seem fair.


There are clear counterpoints to each point raised by the treatment team. First, it’s ludicrous to assume that you would prefer to scoot perpetually—managing the equipment, not being able to move with your peers as they cross uneven terrain, having to haul the scooter everywhere you go---the scooter is more work, and less ideal, than natural locomotion.  Next, you may spin some wheelies or race around as you get a feel for the scooter, but this is part of the process of learning how to navigate on wheels. Third, while the mechanics and maintenance of the scooter will take some getting used to, there’s no way of knowing if you can do it without trying (but you’re pretty sure you can do it). Lastly . . .  a mobility hierarchy? Really? Why in the world should you waste your time and energy painfully proving yourself on things-that-really-won’t-work-long-term, when you could already have the long term solution in hand? (or, in this case, under leg)

There are clear counterpoints to each point raised by the treatment team. First, it’s ludicrous to assume that you would prefer using a talker to speaking**-managing the talker, not being heard easily in crowded places, having to carry it everywhere you go---the device is more work, so much slower,  and less ideal than natural speech.  Next, you may press a lot of buttons to learn where words are located, but this is part of the process of learning how to navigate a speech generating device. (And even “stimming” on one word over and over is often a way of self-teaching that word and the melody of it.)  Third, while the navigation, transporting, and usage of the talker will take some getting used to, there’s no way of knowing if you can do it without trying (but you probably can do it, with the right modeling and support in your corner).  Lastly . . .  an AAC hierarchy? Really? Why in the world should you waste your time and energy painfully proving yourself on things-that-really-won’t-work-long-term, when you could already have the long term solution in hand?


Being able to navigate in your world seems like a basic human right. You are entitled to the tool you need to make this happen.

Being able to communicate is, indeed, a basic human right. You are entitled to the tool you need to make this happen. 


You tell the therapy team that their proposed course of action is invalid, for the reasons outlined above. You advocate for yourself and insist on getting the tool that you need. This shouldn’t even be their decision. You are the one who is dealing with this limitation, and your vote counts the most.


You don’t say anything. Because you can’t.

This shouldn’t even be their decision. You are the one who is dealing with this limitation, and your vote counts the most.

Except you don’t get a vote.


Every child who can’t speak deserves access to a full, robust, comprehensive communication system. If you have one of these children in your life*, you’re either on the team that is presuming competence and fighting for a big system (immediately), or you’re on the team that is standing in the way. 


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*Please note that I included the parent in the treatment team of the nonspeaking child. This isn't accidental. Sometimes the roadblock to a great device is a professional-but sometimes it's the parent who is hesitating.

**PS: And honestly, so what if an AAC user prefers using their device to speaking? There are reasons that AAC use is a better option for some verbal users sometimes (particularly in times of stress or exhaustion). Why should it matter how they choose to communicate, as long as they have the ability to do so?

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Related post:  The Gatekeepers, in which I discuss the AT evaluator that tried, twice to underserve Maya---the first time providing her with a low tech 32 button system, the second time trying to take her communication app away and replace it with something "simpler."

  

Thursday, July 14, 2011

You need to know about button batteries.

Please share this post.  Injuries and deaths from button batteries are serious, on the rise, and preventable.  Most people are completely unaware of the grave danger posed by a swallowed battery . . . until tragedy touched the life of a friend, I had no idea that batteries were so immediately hazardous.  Every parent, babysitter, grandparent, etc who cares for small children needs to be aware of the serious danger posed by lithium button batteries.

If you live with small children, you likely have taken safety precautions to make your home a safer place for them.  Knives are stored out of reach, hazardous household cleaners are secured, doors have locks and pools have fences.  But within your home right now, you have at least one item (but probably several of them) that can cause grave injury, or death, and you are possibly unaware of how rapidly fatal it is.


The Button Battery




These are button batteries (lithium batteries).  They are found in so many common items:
  • toys
  • books (the kind that make noises)
  • small remote controls (for air conditioners, ipod docks, etc)
  • watches
  • hearing aids
  • clocks
  • musical greeting cards
  • cameras
  • keychains
  • flashing shoes
  • and more (see a more complete list here.  Basically, if it's small and battery powered, there's a button battery in there.)
Parents already know that kids shouldn't play with batteries.  But these button batteries are even more dangerous than the traditional batteries simply because they are smaller and easy to swallow (or stick in an ear or nose).  And because they come in so many items, the saftety regulations are somewhat vague.  A button battery in a toddler book, for example, is highly regulated and must be secured in a compartment that requires a screwdriver to open.  Pretty safe.

But what about those singing greeting cards?

Kids love those cards . . . but the only thing between the child and the battery is a layer of paper. If they wander away with one and rip it apart, the battery is sitting right there.  (Some cards do have a battery lock, but many don't).

And small remotes? I know from experience (because I'm constantly dropping things) that many of these pop right open when they hit the floor, exposing the (shiny, interesting looking) battery inside.

The Danger
(This is the part where some people shudder and think: "I don't even want to know any more about battery dangers because now I'm going to be paranoid about batteries and have nightmares." You know what? Suck it up. The parents of the 12 kids who died due to button batteries since 2004 would probably give anything if they could reverse time and become more aware of the serious danger caused by them.)

Kids swallow these batteries.

And then very, very bad things happen. 

When a battery is swallowed, it generates a small electric current, which burns the tissue next to it.    (An experiment showed that a button battery will burn straight through deli meat after only 2 hours.)  In some cases, a swallowed battery is small enough that it can pass through the system (with careful medical monitoring).  In others, the battery becomes lodged (often in the esophagus).

As soon as the battery is lodged against tissue, the electrical current starts. Tissues are seriously damaged.  Resulting injuries have required surgeries, feeding tubes, respiratory tubes, and home nursing care.

And if the battery can burn through deli meat, imagine what happens if it reaches a blood vessel.
 
There are several possible routes of injury, and a few ways that a swallowed battery leads to death.  (More information about mechanisms of injury is here.)

The Bottom Line
Batteries are not (by far) the most commonly swallowed household item (they rank at about 1% of the total swallowed items, with 3,500 cases reported to poison control each year).  "But while swallowing batteries has occurred for years, the development of larger, stronger lithium cell batteries has increased the risk of severe complications." (from the NY Times)

Few other ingested items will cause potentially fatal damage so quickly.  And because parents often are not aware at just how serious battery ingestion is, these batteries may fall into the hands of children, and then get accidentally ingested, without their knowledge. 

What Parents Need to Know

1.  Button batteries can cause serious injury and death if swallowed.

2.  Button batteries are in your home and may be more easily accessible to your child than you think.

3.  If your child is playing with a product (key chain, small remote, greeting card, etc) that contains a button battery, they must be supervised.

4.  If a child is playing with an item and you are unsure if the battery has fallen out, or you can't find the battery (a remote broke into pieces that scattered, a musical card was torn up, etc) than you need an xray.  Head directly to the emergency room and tell them "My child may have swallowed a battery."  This is a do-not-sit-in-the-waiting-room type of situation. 

5. If you suspect that a battery may have been swallowed, you should call the battery ingestion hotline: 202-625-3333.  Likely they will tell you the above.  They will also likely tell you that panic is not necessary, but swift action is.

6. Even dead batteries can hold enough charge to kill a child.  So dispose of dead batteries appropriately and immediately.
 

One More Thing

Share this blog post.  Or share one of the articles linked below.  Or share the National Capital Poison Center page.  Put it on Facebook, print out a copy to give a friend, send an email to the caretakers of young kids that you know.  When a parent has bleach in the house, they know the dangers to children.  The dangers of button batteries should be known by everyone so that the proper precautions can be taken.  We can't be careful of something that we don't know about.

(And if your friends react with "Oh my!  Why did you send me that terrible thing about the batteries?  I can't stop thinking about batteries now!"   . . .  well, then good.  Better to leave someone aware and slightly paranoid than ignorant to the dangers.)


Resources

National Capital Poison Center

A NY Times article about babies and button batteries

A comprehensive article that speaks with a doctor who published a review of button battery data from 1998-2008. 

A video from ABC news that shows the batteries and hears from experts.

One mom's story: My son died after swallowing a button battery

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

I'm no writer, but this guy is

I've tried three times to start this post.  The first time I even typed out something that was a few paragraphs long, then I deleted it.  Ironically, I'm trying to write about how I'm not a writer. 

This blog was started to fill friends and family in on my pregnancy, then to share pictures of Maya, then to also share medical stuff as it unfolded, and then I added some of my thoughts to it.  The things you read here sound like my thoughts . . . I'm informal, I don't follow grammar rules (due to a combination of simple ignorance and willful ignoring), and I have a tendency to-do-this-thing-with-the-dashes when I don't know how to make a rambly thought not turn into a run-on sentence that leaves a reader lost in the middle, thinking "huh?". 

I'm unpolished.  And often I look back on posts and think "Argh!  Why didn't I use a different adjective there?  Or add in a few sentences about xyz?"

Every so often I come across a blog post that inspires me with it's ability to get things out in a simple, clear, vivid and compelling way.  And so it was when a friend (Thanks, Kris!) sent this my way last week.

This post, along the lines of "spread the word to end the word", is fantastic.   (It also makes my humble post on STWTETW day look, well, mightily inferior, but que sera sera.) 

Please take the time to read it.  The author puts into (beautifully crafted) words the exact sentiments that I, and many others, feel.

If you have a family member with special needs (or work with people with special needs) and hate the word "retarded", this post will have you nodding and saying "Yes! That is how I feel.  Thank you for putting it in better words that I can."

If you're of the I-hear-what-you're-saying-and-I'm-sorry-it-hurts-you-but-really-it's-just-a-word mindset, I really and truly believe that this post will give you a type of insight and perspective that will be eye opening.  


(Just in case you can't see the hyperlink on your screen, here's the direct link to the post, on Robert Rummel-Hudson's blog, Fighting Monsters with Rubber Swords:  http://www.schuylersmonsterblog.com/2011/05/just-word.html)

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

You gotta fight (!) . . . for your right (!). . . to party (?)*

My new books arrived in the mail today . . .


. . . watch out, Mr. "You don't have the right to that, I only have to give you a school placement." Now two of us will know the laws.

Or at least one of us will.

Come to think of it, you seemed confused on some of the details. I could bring them to the meeting in case you need a refresher.

:)

Also, I put up a new poll.   Be interactive, chime in---it only takes a second (or two), and it makes me happy to see votes come in (you know, like there are really people out there).

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

No dark sarcasm in the classroom*

(Well, maybe a bit of sarcasm.  But nothing really dark.)

Earlier this month I was invited to go and speak at a local college, which was really flattering.   I spoke to an Early Childhood class about our story---what it was like to realize we were in the special needs world, what day to day life is like, what it's like to become an advocate, and what my concerns/hopes are about entering preschool. 

Dave helped me prepare by surprising me with these (the night before):

*If you don't know what sitcom this is a shout-out to, shame on you the answer is at the bottom of the post*

The craziest part to me was seeing my blog up on the big screen in a classroom:


I sent this pic to Dave via text and he responded "Wow, you got 1 person to come?  Good job!".  (Eyeroll)  That's the professor . . . we were chatting and I said "Sorry---keep talking---I just have to take a picture of this because it's so cool!"

I had a great time talking and answering questions.   I talked about way back in the beginning, showed pictures, played video clips, and marveled in my head about how the blog is kind of our virtual baby book.  (That makes up for the fact that I never filled in the actual baby book, right?  Right?!)

Today,  Maya got a package in the mail from the class that I spoke with, along with a sweet little card thanking her for letting me come to visit. 


Is that what I think it is?!


I asked her, "Maya, where's the cow?", so she picked this book out of the bin that was next to her and held it up.  Clever little thing :)

He's so fun to roll around with.  Thanks for thinking of me, Early Childhood folks!


*The candy bars were an Office reference, from when Michael goes to speak at Ryan's business school.  Have a look for yourself: