A few weeks ago my daughter was diagnosed with “high functioning autism” with some learning abilities. (They don’t use the term Asperger’s Syndrome anymore.) We had to think about what the next steps would be. Here’s the treatment plan and update.


Speech therapy: We will check into this after the current college semester is over or possibly next summer when she doesn’t have any classes. This was suggested to help with language usage, vocabulary, speaking up, and general social interactions with others.  Maybe I should go. In fact, I think most people should sign up.

Social groups: She’s somewhat against this, but I’m working on it. Maybe some Asperger’s meetup groups and possibly some weird artsy student groups at her college.

Pscyho babble mumbo jumbo therapy: That was decided as a big fat NO. “I’m not crazy” is still her mantra.

Nutrition: She likes things tangy because she says she cannot taste most foods, but the ketchup has been given a reprieve lately by BBQ sauce. LOTS of BBQ sauce over pork (WHAAT?!!) and chicken that she consumed in the same week. BBQ is the new Superman.

BBQ Super Hero

School Dayz

She also took her diagnosis paperwork down to her college and the appointment with disability services was last week.

The nice woman at the services center asked if I was Mom and instead of replying I answered with the question “Is it okay for me to sit in?”at practically the same time. “That’s up to her,” the woman said looking at my daughter.

Since she’s eighteen she must give permission for me to sit in on almost anything now, which is a big “whoo hoo!” for me.  I kept telling her adulthood would come. I think somehow she didn’t believe me. She’s also learning that saying “It’s fine if she wants to” and the teenage favorite “I don’t care” are not answers in this regard. She must specifically state my participation. I love that also.

As we settled in, the first question the woman asked was, “So, tell me about yourself.” My daughter raised an eyebrow,”Whatta you mean?”

Off to a good start.

The paperwork also had the “depression, unspecified” on it, a permanent part of her record unless we get a new work up done, so she had to address that again. “I am NOT depressed” with two eyebrows raised was her single line response. A few seconds of silence followed since I also thought that was sufficient.

The good times continued to roll.

Actually, she did well on her own. She listened, responded and handled the discussion. I only prodded her a couple times to clarify what she was saying. (Sometimes I think she believes others can see what’s going on inside her head. WORDS. Words must be used.) She even shook hands when we left.

You go don’t-like-to-be-touched girl.

The result of the meeting was that she can get a student note taker in her classes, get extra time for tests, and take tests in a room separate from other students. She was pretty stoked (do we use that anymore?) It’s a lot of pain in the ass paperwork every semester though and I’m glad I don’t have to do it. She’s a LEGAL ADULT now.

I’m also glad these services exist. I think the next semester will go a lot smoother. The four classes she took this time, well, college is an eye-opener for all Freshman, right? I’m crossing fingers a lot and will breathe easier once the final grades are in.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking of ways to incorporate BBQ sauce with vegetables.