Tag Archives: barometric pressure

Air Pressure, Autism and How To Make A Perfect Arnold Palmer

Em has a cold.  When Em has a cold it’s stressful to her.  She repeatedly holds her nose and blows, despite being told this will not reduce the pressure she feels in her head, she does it anyway.  Maybe it momentarily does release the pressure and that’s why she keeps doing it.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that having a cold along with a change in air pressure causes her tremendous discomfort and pain.  A friend of mine, who is also Autistic told me her head feels as though it’s going to explode when the air pressure changes.  She told me it’s so excruciatingly painful she loses the ability to speak.

While I do not share in Em’s pain due to the barometric pressure, I did manage to throw my back out Friday afternoon.  No this is not going to be a “woe is me” post, I promise.  I could barely walk on Saturday and so Richard, being the all around amazing, wonderful, practically perfect guy that he is, took Em to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, ending with the Natural History Museum where they played an extended elevator game. (Emma rides the glass elevator in the biolife section where an enormous whale is suspended from the ceiling and a video plays on a massive screen showing the beauty of the ocean and the slow, march towards its inevitable death because of mankind’s negligence and refusal to take responsibility, while Richard pops into view and pretends to scream, and Emma, safely cocooned inside the moving glass elevator hysterically laughs.)  This game can go on for a very long time.  Thankfully Emma was NOT slowed down by her cold or the pain caused by the air pressure.

By the time they returned home I was able to hobble up to the roof with Em where she insisted on wearing this outfit.  It’s a new take on the standard knight costume, a kind of King Arthur’s knight meets one of the witches from Macbeth.  Personally I think it totally works and can we all take a moment and admire Emma’s pose.  (No.  I did not set this up.  She saw the camera and struck a pose unprompted..)

Last night, having spent yet another jam-packed day going to MOMA and (yes again) to the Natural History Museum with her awesome dad, Emma’s cold had worsened only slightly and my back had not improved.  “You two are quite the pair,” Richard observed as I hobbled over to Em’s bedroom, carrying my iPad, while making (almost inaudible) groaning noises.

“I’m going to read to her and then it’s zombie time,” I warned him.  Lest any of you conclude this is referring to some form of kinky foreplay specific to Richard and me, let me dispense with this notion.  It’s not.  We are catching up on season two of the series ‘The Walking Dead’, which Richard has tried to get me to watch for about six months.  Given my weakened state I finally gave in and found I rather enjoyed it.  Lots of zombies, end of the world as we know it, great non-zombie characters and it’s only while watching a zombie show that one can truly appreciate the following conversation: “That was totally unrealistic!  Zombies can’t move that quickly.”  Or “Gross.  How can a zombie have that much blood in their skull?”  Or  “So, wait… they eat humans?  But how are there so many of them?  I mean are the zombies basically left-overs?  Why would they just bite one human and devour another, seriously I don’t get it…”

And then, as though this might explain everything, Richard asked, “Want to go back and start from the first episode?  You’ve missed a lot.”

“No.  That’s okay.  Just keep filling me in.”

So when I was jolted awake at 3:45AM by a body (Emma’s) lying practically on top of me, I just rolled over in a zombie induced state of undead exhaustion.  I heard Richard get up and take her back to her bedroom and ten minutes after he returned to our bed, having immediately fallen back asleep, I heard Emma crying.

I grimaced in pain as I made my way to her bedroom where she had the lights on and was whimpering “Mommy come.  Ears popping.  Go see Mommy nurse.”

“Oh Emmy.  I’m sorry.  Want me to lie down with you for a little while?”

“Mommy stay.”

I promptly fell asleep only to be abruptly awoken, a few hours later when my face hit the floor, having fallen out of bed, either that or Emma pushed me in an attempt to gain a few more inches of room on her twin bed.  In a dazed state I slowly stood up and found, much to my surprise, my back felt fine!

“I think falling out of Em’s bed this morning made my back better,” I announced to Richard as we got breakfast for the children.

“Really?” he said.   Then he added, “Cheaper than a chiropractor.”

“And not as painful as a zombie bite.”

As an added plus, Emma seemed to feel much better this morning too!

Lest anyone accuse me of ‘making lemonade from lemons’, I need to add that I was voted, “Most Negative” in high school, a high school, by the way, of over 3,000 students.  Just sayin’… Plus, I don’t much care for lemonade, unless it’s in an Arnold Palmer and even then limeade is preferable.

The Perfect Arnold Palmer

Fill two-thirds of a glass with brewed, cooled English Breakfast Tea, add Limeade and a splash of Cran-Raspberry juice, garnish with a sprig of fresh mint. Voila! 

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