Tag Archives: stem cell treatments & autism

Day 6

Posted on October 21, 2011 by | 5 comments

Call me crazy… BUT I think we’re seeing some changes.  Okay, I know, I said this after each of the three stem cell treatments.  Though there really did seem to be a slight shift – a change in her speech, better eye contact, longer more complex sentences, a more grounded presence in the world and I don’t think we were wrong about any of that.  I’m pretty sure Emma really did make some progress.  However, here’s my latest theory  (Richard, please refrain from rolling your eyes) – what if the stem cell treatments were helped by the fact that she also wasn’t eating all the dairy she normally ate.  What if in addition to giving her a little boost, the fact that she ate very little and therefore almost no dairy and hardly any wheat contributed to the progress we saw?   What if these food intolerances really are making it difficult for her to concentrate, focus, stay on task, carry on a conversation, maintain eye contact?

Today is the 6th day on Emma’s modified gluten free/casein free diet.  I use the word modified because, according to Dr. D she can tolerate dairy products from sheep and goats.  However she is not allowed to eat anything containing soy, corn or potato.  Which pretty much eliminates all pre-made foods, no matter how organic and gluten free they are, they all, every single one of them, contain either soy, corn or potato and often all three.  In addition she cannot eat anything with chicken eggs as she cannot have the whites, yolks are okay, but not the whites.

I’ve been doing a great deal of baking.  Which is a bit ironic considering how little Emma is actually consuming, but I keep trying to find things she might like.  I also love a challenge.  My mother told me about one of those cooking shows she likes called Chopped or a name like that. I’ve never watched it, but she described how the chefs are given bizarre items such as (I can’t remember what the actual ingredients were on the episode she told me about, so I’m making this up) – sweetbreads, licorice and coca-cola – and told to create something edible.  The chef then whips up some amazing concoction using those ingredients as their base, which looks delicious and the judges proclaim it a work of art.

The list of Emma’s “CANNOT EAT” foods sits on our kitchen counter, where I refer to it, reminding myself that if someone can prepare a fabulous dish with lifesavers and sweetbreads (or whatever it was they were given) then surely I can create something Emma will eat with all the foods she CAN have.  Still it does seem daunting.  And I’ll bet Emma wouldn’t touch any of those dishes prepared by those fabulous chefs, no matter how talented they may be.  Emma is one discerning customer.  Or as my son Nic said in answer to my question as to why he didn’t like the girl who keeps texting him at all hours of the day and night, “I’ve got very high standards, Mom.”  He then went back to playing his video game, involving lots of blood, various weapons no one has ever heard of and screams of agony.

When I first told Richard about taking Emma to Dr. D, he asked, “So what’s the science behind this?”

And the truth is I cannot answer that.  Though the following non-biased paragraph from the website, about.com is a pretty good description of the theory behind foods, intolerances, GI issues and autism:

“Why Does GFCF Seem to Work?

GFCF diets are difficult and expensive to administer. They require a lot of dedication and knowlege, and most professionals suggest that the diet be implemented over at least three months. Given all of this, it’s possible that parents who desperately want to see improvement could report improvement that may or may not actually be present. In addition, many children do gain new skills over the course of three months, with or without special diets.But there’s more to the story than just wishful thinking. Allergies to gluten and cassein are not uncommon, and those allergies often manifest themselves in diarrhea, constipation, bloating and other symptoms. About 19 to 20 percent of autistic children seem to have significant gastrointestinal issues.

If these issues are caused by gluten and/or cassein, then they would certainly be significantly improved by the diet. By removing a source of constant discomfort and anxiety, parents may well be opening the door to improved behaviors, better focus, and even lowered anxiety.”

It may be that I am trying to find improvements that have nothing to do with the change in her diet.  It may be wishful thinking on my part.  It may be that what I’m seeing may have happened had we not started her on this radical new diet. But I began this blog as an honest documentation of Emma, the progress, the lack of progress and everything in between.  Since we began the diet I have seen the following:

Greater sustained eye contact.  Less spaciness and a more solid grounded presence.  An interest in her Dad and a desire to include him beyond what she normally displays.  This morning, when I told her we didn’t have time to finish her study room and that we’d finish it tonight, she said, “Study room later.  We get to show Daddy.”  Now this may seem insignificant to most, but I can tell you, to Richard this sort of acknowledgement is a long time coming.

Emma – last night – October 20th, 2011

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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On the Spectrum

Posted on October 12, 2011 by | 2 comments

I was asked recently why I am trying so desperately to overcome autism.  It’s a valid question and it made me think about the challenge of writing about one’s child in a way that honestly captures that child with all their complexities.  A week or so ago I wrote in my post entitled A Cure – “Emma cannot function in our world, she is not mainstreamed, she cannot take a shower, wash her hair and dry herself off without support.  We are not discussing nuances here.  We are talking about a child who is more than “quirky”.  My husband, Richard and I love quirky.  Quirky is GREAT!  We’ll take quirky.  But that’s not what Emma is.”

To me, that summed up why we continue to search, why we continue to try various things, but it does not adequately describe Emma.  Emma cannot function in our world without hands on support.  We cannot have a conversation with her or ask her questions.  I am still trying to capture Emma on video and post some clips on here, but haven’t had the time to do that yet.  The question I began this post with, made me realize that for someone reading this blog they cannot know her through my writing.  Perhaps one gets a sense of her, but there’s too much left out, too much I don’t think to mention, the cadence and inflections of her speech, the words, which I can understand, but which may not be understood by someone else.  I try to give an accurate portrait of her, but in the end, it is just that, an interpretation and not representative of the whole.

When we first received Emma’s diagnosis I was determined to find a “cure”.  I felt sure that I would find one too.  (Hubris?   Arrogance?  Ignorance?  Stupidity? Denial?  All of the above?)

After those first few years I realized I might not find a cure for what ailed Emma.  And after another few years and three trips to Central America for stem cell treatments under our belt, a “cure” seemed more and more elusive.  I have come to accept that.  Perhaps more importantly, I am less focused on the miracle of a cure and more focused on pushing Emma to expand her world.  There’s a balance we have tried to achieve with Emma.  We try to follow her lead whenever possible, but we also encourage her to stretch and do things beyond her comfort zone.  Our most recent attempts to expand her diet is a case in point, her literacy and math program are another.

Which isn’t to say that I don’t continue to research and do everything in my power to find treatments to help her.  I am convinced Emma’s digestive issues are exacerbated by her environment – the foods she ingests, the air she breathes, the water she drinks.  This Friday I am taking Emma to a doctor who has worked with hundreds of children on the spectrum.  He and I spoke on the phone yesterday for over an hour, going over her history, her GI issues (inflammations and ulcerations), chronic constipation, recurring strep throat, porous teeth, cracked heels and limited diet.  While a few years ago, I would have eagerly anticipated this appointment with the same degree of excitement the devoted view a visit from the Pope, I no longer do.  I have come to see all of these people, no matter what letters may follow their name, with tempered interest.

Last week Emma’s school bus matron told us Emma refused to buckle her seat belt and when the bus matron tried to help her, Emma kicked her hard in the chest.  We immediately went over with Emma the behavior we expected from her.  We rehearsed buckling her seat belt and made sure she had her ipod and ear buds with her so she could amuse herself once she was seated.  We went over the importance of not hurting another person.  We tried to consider what sort of support she might need to help her control herself.  We are lucky in that Emma seems to have understood and has not struck nor tried to get up from her seat while on the bus since.

As we waited for her bus this morning, I coached Emma, “Emma, it’s nice to say good morning to people.  She’s a nice lady and saying – Good Morning – will make her smile.

When Emma boarded the bus this morning she said, “Good morning, nice lady.”

The bus matron beamed.

There are many people with an autism diagnosis who are on the “mild” end of the spectrum or fall in the “gifted” category of Aspergers or are considered “high functioning”.  These children are often mainstreamed or learning at grade level or above.  And while they have tremendous hurdles, often requiring support into their adult lives, they occupy a different level of hurdles from those who, like Emma are moderately autistic.

I had a friend whose child was unable to walk or even lift his head.  He, too, was diagnosed with autism, though severely so.  That child faced developmental and physical problems far beyond anything Emma has had to deal with.  For me to compare the two would have been ludicrous.  At this point my goal is to get Emma to a higher level on the spectrum.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

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Yes, but… – Autism

Posted on September 27, 2011 by | Leave a comment

A blog follower recently contacted me saying how exciting it is to see how much Emma is progressing.   Whenever someone says this to me, my first reaction is surprise, followed by a shot of hopefulness and finally curiosity.  What exactly do they see?  How is she progressing in their opinion?  So I almost always ask, “In what ways do you see her progressing?”

I then listen intently, making a mental note of the various things.  And then, and I’ve noticed this happens almost every time, I think – Yes, but _________ .  Here is the current list of my “Yes, buts…”

Yes, but she still sucks her thumb and as a result the shape of her mouth has changed, resulting in her front top and bottom teeth no longer meeting because of her massive over bite.  (This thought usually leads to a whole laundry list of anticipated horrors about dentistry, orthodontistry, the worry of how we will have to have her hospitalized to have braces put on – this is what we had to do when she had a cavity) and the exorbitant cost of  all of this.  I become acutely aware of how fast my heart seems to be beating.  Suddenly I am nauseous, can’t eat and wander around feeling ill.  Which leads me to my next – Yes, but:

Yes, but she only eats a half dozen things, all of which are either dairy or wheat and though we put her on a wheat free/ dairy free diet when she was first diagnosed to zero effect, maybe we did it wrong.  A vegetable has not touched her lips in more than six years.  Maybe we missed something.  Maybe there’s something else here that we should be doing.  I then am led to Google and several hours later I emerge from the black hole that only Google can provide, having learned about the dozens of diets all with the ominous warning that early intervention is key.  Which, to my mind, means we’ve missed the boat as she is now at the ripe old age of nine and a half.  If I’m feeling really panicked – almost ten!

Last night I mentioned to Richard my current litany of – yes, buts.

“You’re spiraling off again,” he observed, after I’d finished.  Then he looked at me with an expression of concern.  He sighed and said, “I know, honey.”

I understand that my thoughts, shooting off to the next catastrophe, are my convoluted way of protecting myself.  However that “protection”, all those, “Yes, buts” are what block me from fully enjoying Emma’s amazing accomplishments.

Yes, but…

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:  www.Emma’s Hope Book.com

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Wake Up Calls

Posted on January 14, 2011 by | Leave a comment

Last night Emma came into our bedroom every few hours.  The first time was just after midnight, then again at 2:30AM or thereabout, again sometime after 3:00AM and once more, only I was so tired, I can no longer remember what time it was.  The last time she came in, standing beside the bed and looking at me, we told her she had to go back into her room and that we would come get her when it was time to wake up.  When she left, whispering, “Mommy, Mommy come into the other room,” I stayed awake waiting for her return.  Only she didn’t return.  She went back to her room and managed to fall back asleep, something I was unable to do.

So I’m tired.

And when I’m tired things can look a bit bleak.

I know this about myself.

This post is therefore about countering that exhaustion induced bleakness with a more balanced view of Emma and how far she’s come in the last year.

At this time last year, Emma was still wearing a diaper at night.  She was often awake in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep without one of us, usually me, lying next to her for the remainder of the night.  Or she would come into our bed, forcing Richard to sleep in her twin bed in her bedroom.  The feeling of utter exhaustion I am currently experiencing was commonplace a year ago.

In addition to the nocturnal awakenings, Emma had a habit of sucking on a strand of her hair, returning home with an encrusted lock, which I had to soak in lukewarm water before brushing out.  Emma was unable to shower by herself, brush her teeth, floss or brush her hair and needed reminders to go to the bathroom. Emma showed no interest in most toys and her language was not as complex as it is now.  Her utterances were in the three to five word category and often were difficult to understand.  Her difficulty distinguishing between pronouns such as “you”, “me”, “I”, “him” and “her” was all too apparent.  More often than not she referred to herself in the third person and often referred to others by calling them – “Emma”.

In the last few months, Emma has become enthralled with one of her baby dolls.  Each night for the past week, she comes home, bathes and washes her baby doll’s hair with shampoo, then wraps her in a towel and puts her to bed.  Her pretend play continues to be somewhat literal, in other words she doesn’t pretend to talk for her doll, she isn’t able to “name” her dolls beyond calling them things like:  doll, girl, baby, etc.  But Emma is showing an increased interest in playing with them, taking on the role of “mother” and spends longer periods doing “motherly” things with them.
This is the first year Emma has shown even a remote interest in Christmas and likewise with her birthday.  She has been talking about her birthday and the party we are giving her for over a month now.  Sadly, few children are able to come to her party, as it falls on a three-day weekend and almost everyone is busy or away.  But despite this, we are making sure she and her birthday are celebrated.

Sometimes it takes exhaustion and numerous wake up calls to remind me of just how far Emma has come.

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Family

Posted on August 24, 2010 by | Leave a comment

When Richard, Joe and I took Emma to Costa Rica for her first round of stem cell treatments this past March, we arranged to have Alycea stay with Nic.  Alycea is one of those people who is multi-talented; a musician-singer- songwriter, terrific with both children, with an unbelievable upbeat-can-do attitude.  So when we explained to Nic he could either come with us to Costa Rica or stay in New York with Alycea, he didn’t hesitate in saying, “I’d rather stay with Alycea.”

And he had a blast, though there were logistical hoops we had to go through to get him to Denver where we met up with him and Alycea before we continued on to my mother’s.

Upon our return from Costa Rica, my mother said, “Next time you must leave Nic with me.” She said it more as an announcement than anything else.

“But Mom, are you sure?” I asked.  After all she is 81 years old with degenerative disk disease and though she and Nic have a special relationship, I wondered just how she would manage.

“Yes.  I’m sure,” she said, with the authoritative tone used by someone of a certain age – in other words – there would be no further discussion.  “He might like to go visit your sister Toni,” she added brightly.  “I thought we’d drive down with the dogs after you leave,” she said.

My sister operates a working ranch with free-range pigs, sheep, lamb, chickens, a number of ornery roosters and that’s just naming the non-domesticated animals.  In addition she has four dogs, horses and I’m sure, upon this post she will have acquired new animals I have failed to mention.  I can just hear her as I write, “Ariane!  I can’t believe you forgot the __________________!”  (Fill in the blank of some rarely heard of species belonging on a ranch.)  In summary her ranch is a ten-year old boy’s version of heaven.

About a month after it was decided Nic would stay with his Grandma, I heard from one of my three brothers, Victor.  He and his wife, Susan had decided they would also come out, “to help with Nic”.  As it turned out another brother, Andy and his fiancé were planning a trip to Colorado during the same period.  Andy is on Nic’s top ten list of favorite people.

So it was with a certain amount of mental freedom that I boarded the first airplane on my way to Panama to meet up with Richard, Emma and Joe three weeks ago.  I knew Nic would be well taken care and the removal of that particular concern was deeply appreciated.

When we returned from Panama, Nic greeted us with countless tales of Wilbur the several hundred pound boar, the pigs, the lamb, the dogs and all the various adventures he had had while we were gone.  Not once did he mention missing us.  Why would he?  He had been surrounded by my siblings, their significant others and my mother – who should be sainted – for the entire week.  If anything, Nic had a difficult time adjusting to our return as his carefree week of animals and family came to a screeching close.

Victor and Susan extended their stay so they could be here for my birthday festivities, which meant Emma was able to spend a week with them upon our return from Panama.  Emma has always loved Victor and Susan and they return her love. During the winter we over lap for the Christmas Holidays and Victor and Susan make sure they spend a few days skiing with Emma.  When we return to New York Emma asks after them for several months.  We know she misses them.  To also spend time with them during the summer was an added bonus.  Emma was overjoyed, as was I.

“Victor and Susan tomorrow!” Emma said after they left a few days ago to return to their lives in Illinois.

“No, Em.  But we’ll see them over Christmas,” I said.

“See Victor and Susan later,” Emma said. Her way of conveying how much she wants to see them and wishes they were still in Colorado with us.

“Yes, over Christmas.”

“Ski with Victor and Susan,” Emma said, showing she understood.

“That’s right, Em.  You can ski with them.”

“Victor and Susan tomorrow?”  Emma said sadly.

“Do you miss them?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said.

Later that day as my mother, Emma and I were out walking the dogs, Emma said, “Say hi to Victor?”

“Sure Em, good idea.  I’ll send him a text and you can say hi to the camera, I’ll text the photo to them.”

Below is the photo I took as Emma said, “Hi, Victor!”

Richard and I realized early on we needed help if we were going to give Emma the support she needed to make ‘meaningful progress’ as Stanley Greenspan use to say.  We realized her needs were greater than our ability to provide them on our own.  When we made the decision to start doing stem cell treatments, the help we required multiplied.  My family jumped in unasked, voluntarily and cheerfully.  My siblings and mother joining forces so Richard and I could take Emma for her second round of stem cell treatments without worrying about our son was an act of kindness above and beyond the call of familial duty.  It is my family and our close friends who have helped us help Emma.  We could not have done or continue to do as much were it not for them.  Because of my good fortune in having such an amazing family and friends who have given of themselves so selflessly time and again, I feel all the more determined Emma should be given the opportunity to have a life, which includes deep friendships.  That she may one day know the indescribable joy of connecting with family and friends is my hope for her.

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Panama – Day 4

Posted on August 12, 2010 by | 1 comment

Emma began yesterday with a long swim.  She has devised a game where she leaps into the pool with a towel wrapped around her waist.  For some reason this strikes her as the height of hilarity.  Then she drags herself, still wearing the towel, out and onto one of the lounge chairs where she sits and announces to anyone within listening distance that in fact, she has just jumped into the pool wearing a towel.  Regardless of the listener’s reaction, Emma breaks into peals of laughter before leaping into the pool again – with the soaking wet towel.

After Emma’s swimming pool escapades, we ventured off to La Vieja – the old city.

Emma in the ruins discovered in 1519, only to be destroyed by Henry Morgan in 1691.

After visiting the Artisnal Market exhibiting local crafts and going to La Vieja museum we drove to a mall where we were told was a carousel and some other children’s rides.  Emma was ecstatic.

However once she had taken four rides on the carousel, we suggested we look for some of the other rides we had been told of.  There were three.   Two, which she was too big to ride in and one, the teacup ride, which she was the right height for but was empty and they wouldn’t let her on unless another child showed up.  Emma took the first disappointment in stride, “Too big,” she said, nodding her head, the smallest frown appearing on her forehead as she tried to reason this out.  But when she was not allowed to ride inside the teacups because of a lack of other children she began to fret.  “Go on cup ride?” She whimpered.

“Yes, but we need to wait until some other children come to ride too,” We tried to explain.

Our explanation was weak and we knew it, but there was nothing to be done.  Joe and I went to plead with the “supervisor” to see if we could convince them to let her ride on it anyway.  They were resolute.  Emma began to cry, “Go on cup ride?  Go on ride.  You have to wait.  I said no!”

“It’s okay Em, we can wait and see if another child comes, then you can go on the ride too.”

Even while saying this to her, the weakness of the argument was all too apparent.  Why one other child should make a difference was not something any of us could explain.  Was there a balancing issue, weight distribution problem?  Who knows, but our Spanish being what it was, even Joe’s fairly good Spanish, would not sway them.  Meanwhile Emma became increasingly distraught.  All the joy from the carousel was now replaced by a kind of frantic, perseverative mindset.  Eventually another child did come along and Emma was able to ride in the teacup.  It was not a joyful ride. It was as though she no longer could obtain any amount of actual pleasure from the ride.   It had fallen into the “must do” category, an action, which must be taken, but with no enjoyment attached.  There was an addictive quality to the desire.  It was as though she were caught in a rut of thinking, nothing could be said or done to quell.

Emma riding in the teacup.

Once the teacup ride was over Emma went back to the other two, which she was too big for and insisted on riding in either of those.

“Ride in train?” She asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.  “You’re too big, you have to wait,” she said.

“Em, let’s go see if we can find the big indoor playground.  You can bounce,” One of us encouraged.

“No.  Ride?” Emma said.

“Emmy, we can’t go on these other rides and only on the teacup ride if there’s another child.”

“Ride in cup?”  Emma said.

Eventually we were able to pull her away and began to look for the indoor playground.  Emma was unhappy and sucking her thumb, clasping Muzzy to her and repeating the same phrase over and over again.  “Ride on carousel?”

“Okay, let’s ride on the carousel,” Richard said.

It was decided Richard would scout ahead to see if he could find the indoor playground while Emma rode on the carousel a few more times.  Once Richard was out of sight, however, a train came by stopping at the carousel.  So we took the train which runs the length of the shopping mall.  Immediately Emma perked up.

Emma in the train with Muzzy & me.

 

Back to the carousel and then to a round elevated platform where Emma made up a game she called:  “Swing game”.

The Swing Game went on for quite some time, with Emma running around the parimeter of the elevated circle with Muzzy as one of us tried to catch her.

Today we go into the clinic for the second stem cell treatment.  We have been preparing her.

Emma:  Take Muzzy to hospital.  You have to put the mask on. Last time.

Richard:   Yes.  Today is the last day of the hospital.

Emma:  Then bye-bye hospital.  Sleep, wake up, go to play swing game!  Go on airplane, go see Granma!

Richard:  Yes, that’s right.  Tomorrow we rest and then Saturday we go on the airplane to see Granma.

Emma:  I’m so excited.

As are we all.

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A Tribute To Stanley Greenspan

Posted on April 30, 2010 by | 7 comments

We first heard of Dr. Stanley Greenspan and his work through another parent who had seen some success using his DIR/floortime methodology with their autistic child.  I read his book:  The Child With Special Needs, which led to our appointment for a floortime training session with Emma.  We drove to Bethesda, checked into the hotel, took Emma swimming and hoped we might all get a good night’s sleep for what we guessed would be an exhausting day.  In preparation for the meeting, Richard and I watched some of Stanley’s training videos.  We felt we had a vague idea of what was expected of us.  Whether we would be able to engage and interact with Emma in the DIR way or not, we were not so sure.

So it was with some trepidation that we were ushered into Stanley’s office – a small dingy room with some toys, a few broken, Stanley’s desk and piles of papers and books.  Stanley asked us a number of questions, all the while watching Emma intently.  “Okay.  Mom, why don’t we start with you?” He said, still watching Emma.

“Hey Emma!” I said, huge smile, high affect.  “What should we play with?!”

Emma ignored me and wandered over to the couch where Richard was sitting.  I ran over to her, tried again to engage her, “What do you want to do?  Do you want to play with this,” I asked, thrusting an armless doll at her.

The office was hot. I could feel perspiration beading on my upper lip.  After about twenty minutes Stanley said, “Okay Mom.  That’s fine.  Now I need you to take that energy and up it by about 100%.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” I exclaimed.

Stanley smiled at me,  “You have a nice connection with her. “

As he spoke, Emma was busy trying to open the door to leave the office.  I tried to pull her away.  “No, no Emmy, we can’t leave yet, “ I said.

Emma resisted me and continued to turn the door’s handle.

“Em, it’s not time to go yet.  We have to stay here,” I said, pulling on her arm to come with me.

“Block her!  What will she do if you put yourself in the way?” Stanley asked.

I wedged my body between the door and Emma.

Emma tried to reach around me.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

Emma tried to push me out of her way.

“Oh!  You want me to move?”

“Don’t make it so easy for her.  Make her tell you what she wants!” Stanley coached.

“Emma, what do you want?” I asked, sure that this was leading to a melt down.

“Open it!” Emma said.

Richard and I gasped.  WOW!  We hadn’t heard Emma say that since she was 13 months old.

Stanley was brilliant.  Keenly observant, unfailing in his critique, he encouraged us to follow Emma into her world.  To interact with her, “playfully obstruct”, “entice her”, were a few of the things he encouraged us to do.  “The worst thing you can do is nothing at all,” he said, as our session came to a close.

When we returned home his insight and words stayed with us. We enrolled Emma in the Rebecca School in New York, which uses the Greenspan DIR approach. It is the only school in New York City using this model.  Richard and I undertook additional floortime training sessions at the Rebecca school and hired their DIR training specialist to work with us at home.  Alex trained Emma’s therapist, Joe as well.  Hence the “Zen Master of DIR” label in the last post.

Dr. Greenspan had a consulting relationship with the Rebecca School and we were privileged to have two sessions with him over the last three years. The entire school faculty was in attendance and Stanley was conferenced in by telephone. Richard and I began each session by updating everyone on Emma’s home life, her progress and problems and our questions on what we could do to help her.  This was followed by her teachers’ review of how Emma was doing at school. Whenever they addressed an area of difficulty, such as Emma’s self-injurious behaviors like biting herself, instead of giving his recommendations immediately, he asked the faculty for their ideas. He listened patiently and then offered his own suggestions, which were always so intelligent and insightful that Richard and I would look at each other with an expression of awe – and gratitude.

Dr. Stanley Greenspan’s ideas and methodology changed everything for us.  His belief in the intelligence and abilities of each and every child were a profound change from the kind of rote “training” we had heard and received in the past. To say that his presence and guidance in our lives will be missed is a vast understatement. It is a great loss for us and for all the parents and children who will never have the opportunity to experience his keen analysis and problem solving ability on an individual basis.  Yet his legacy will live on through his books and videotapes, his DIR Support Services under the brilliant stewardship of his son Jake, a floortime genius in his own right – and with schools like Rebecca School, which have adopted his teachings as their principle therapeutic model, helping countless autistic children and their families like ours move forward one day at a time.

For more information on Stanley Greenspan and his work with Autism read:  Engaging Autism & The Child With Special Needs and go to his web site:  www.stanleygreenspan.com

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Our Emma

Posted on April 5, 2010 by | 10 comments

What lengths would you go to if your child were diagnosed with autism?

This blog is about what we have learned, what we have done and continue to try in the hope that we may help our daughter Emma, now 8 years old, lead a life that includes deep friendships and the powerful bonds that result from being able to communicate with one another.  A life that is enriched by our interactions..  this is what I dream of for her and what drives us to go to such extremes to help her, hopefully, achieve some day.

Five and a half years ago we received the news that she had been diagnosed with PDD-NOS (pervasive developmental disorder – not otherwise specified).  Since then it has been nothing less than a wild roller coaster ride of hope, disillusionment, gratitude, determination and perseverance.

Here are some of the therapies we have tried in the last five plus years:

Gluten/Casein free diet – no noticeable change after five months

Homeopathy – up to 13 tinctures a day delivered orally – suppose to help her gut issues – no noticeable change after more than 10 months.

Cranial Sacro Therapy – did seem to help her constipation issues at first, but over a longer period (close to a year) did not appear to help enough to warrant continuing.

Qigong Master – suppose to help regulate her “energy flow” and promised to “cure” her autism – no discernible change after almost 6 months.

Chelation – we did one round before discontinuing upon advisement from a number of lead and metal specialists out of Albert Einstein College of Medicine.

Detox Foot pads – Pads that supposedly draw toxins from the body while she slept.  No noticeable change after several months.

Brushing Therapy – Emma became very hyper as a result of brushing therapy and after her sleep became disrupted we discontinued.

Auditory Integration Therapy – while this therapy did not seem to adversely effect her, it did not appear to help either.  We discontinued after a few years when she began objecting to it.

Hyperbaric Chamber – We did not do more than 10 sessions.  So I cannot comment on whether this may have helped or not.  We discontinued because we were starting the stem cell therapy and wanted to do one over the other.

ABA (Applied Behavioral Analysis) – 40 hours per week – we discontinued after two years when Emma began regressing.

Stanley Greenspan’s Floortime Therapy – We continue to use Stanley’s DIR methods.  Emma has made noticeable improvements in language – both receptive and expressive – as well as shows a real interest in initiating play with others, both adults and peers, as well as a huge uptick in imaginary play as a result.

Stem Cell Therapy – The Institute for Cellular Medicine – Costa Rica

We took our daughter Emma for her first bout of stem cell treatments with the hope that they might help her autism in March, 2010.  The Institute for Cellular Medicine was introduced to us by Emma’s neuroscientist in New York City.  This treatment is in it’s infancy, they have only treated about 100 autistic children, but are seeing promising results.  The stem cells were harvested from umbilical cord blood and mixed with her own blood serum..  They then injected this mixture intrathecally and intravenously on Tuesday and again on Thursday.  She was sedated for all procedures.  Emma had a bad reaction to the first round, evidently fluid leaked from her spinal cord causing blinding headaches and vomiting.  We were able to calm her with pain medication and by Wednesday evening she felt much, much better.  We decided to go ahead with Thursdays treatment and had them sedate her after the procedure to ensure that she lie flat and thus lessen the likelihood of seepage from her spine.  She was also given a drug to reduce nausea.  She rested in the hospital with us by her side for almost four hours.  We have been told that we should not expect to see any significant change for a month or two.  We will be returning to Costa Rica for round two in August.

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