Unfortunately, this story is much more fact than fiction. I don't have a Jerome or (alas) a Clark in the picture, but Todd's behaviours were drawn from those of my own son who is a teenager chronologically and hormonally, but who has reached at most the toddler level in terms of cognitive, social, and emotional development. I'm always sporting bruises these days, and I am praying that I will survive the next few years. (And I do mean "survive" in the literal sense.) It had gotten so bad that I had even looked into the possibility of alternate living arrangements for him -- either at a residential school or a group home -- but he is meeting his academic goals as specified in his Individualized Education Plan and he is a minor, so neither of those possibilities panned out. We're together until he turns 18. The medicines I mentioned in the story have definitely helped out a lot -- his aggressions are less frequent and less intense than they had been -- but each time he has a growth spurt, we go through another rough patch until we get the right dosages again.

I realize that the ending of the story wasn't all that satisfactory, but just as I can't come up with a satisfactory solution in real life, I couldn't bring myself to synthesize a happy ending for the story -- it would have felt like a cheap cop-out to do so. As it was, I left it with as hopeful an ending as I could muster.

As always, all feedback gratefully accepted.

Joy,
Lynn

Thank you for choosing to spend your precious free time giving us insightful stories like this!

Wow, Lynn. I just...wow. Powerful piece. I can't even begin to fathom the pain, heartache, and overall roughness of the life you (and L&C by extension) are going through. It's very, very easy to see how you've drawn from your real-life experiences to bring us this small glimpse into your world/L&C's world. Thank you for that.

Here's to hoping you (and L&C) find a solution that works well, and which gives you all the peace you deserve.

Thank you, again, for sharing this intensely personal story.

My hat is off to you for both this story and your RL situation. It's clear that you've had to deal with a difficult situation. Just like in the story, you are dedicated to finding a solution that works without abandoning your son. My son is in adolescence and I can't even imagine what it would be like if he had autism and lashed out physically with his strength and mass.

Good luck and thank you.

My thanks to the three of you who read past the story warning and then went on to provide feedback. To be honest, a warning like that would have kept me from reading a story.

Amy, I wish I could write, "My pleasure," but that would be patently untrue under the circumstances. I will say that writing this story was therapeutic.

DC, had this story been part of an afternoon television series aimed at kids, I'm sure it would have been advertised as "a very special episode." I do appreciate your good wishes.

BJ, thank you. We are definitely in a challenging phase right now. In addition to his autism, my son also has OCD and ADHD. Not a particularly pleasant combination for anyone involved -- including him. As a boy, he had generally been happy and sweet, and I have every reason to be hopeful that he will be both once again in a few years. But those years will be long ones...

Joy,
Lynn

Nice job, as always, Lynn. Very touching story. Day to day life must be very challenging dealing with these issues.

Joan

Wow, Lynn!! This is a very powerful story, and left me initially speechless. I read it last night but couldn't find the words to comment. You put your own situation into this story, and I hope writing about it helps you and others. My heart goes out to all families who are affected by these situations.

Thank you for sharing it and putting so much of your own situation into it. I also hope you find a workable solution that eases the pain you must be going through, and have been going through for years.

I do find a glimmer of hope in the ending for L&C, that perhaps Clark can find a way to reach Todd and help him.

A story like this comes from deep within. Definitely not easy to write, but we appreciate your pain and love. Lynn, we are fortunate to have you here.

This was an incredibly powerful story, Lynn. So glad you decided to post, even though it must have been difficult. My sympathies are definitely with you. *hug*

I think you captured it well in the scope of the story, too. Lois being bruised all the time, Clark wanting to protect her. There's a little bit of hope in the ending but it's not unrealistic. Very strong little story and as always I'm looking forward to more from you.

Joan, thank you. Life with my son can indeed be extremely challenging at times. Things are relatively good at the moment, though. At least my son hasn't pushed me in a couple of months. (My equivalent to Lois's major bruise was on the entire bottom of my upper arm. I had been trying to stand up from sitting at my computer desk when my son shoved me.) I think things have settled down until the next growth spurt.

Cuidadora, your comments, and those of others, are making me realize that the story was a lot more powerful than I had originally thought. I am so used to living this life that I forget what it would look like to someone who isn't used to daily physical abuse. One of the tremendous things about reading is that it can give one a glimpse into how other people live, and one can gain perspectives not easily attained otherwise. I'm glad that I was able to do that for you.

Morgana, thank you. Your kind words mean a lot to me. I am grateful to be here. Being on this MB is almost the only time that I can just be "Lynn" (as opposed to being "Mother" at home or "Dr. M." at work -- both are titles that I like, but that have been consuming me the past several years).

Mouserocks, I'm delighted that the story left you with at least a glimmer of hope. I had been contemplating writing a story like this for several weeks, but I had struggled with trying to come up with an ending that was neither completely depressing nor completely unrealistic. On another note -- as I wrote in a PM to you, I think our muses have traded places this summer.

Joy,
Lynn

Gripping and beautifully written as always, Lynn. I can understand both Lois and Clark's POV here. Lois isn't likely to leave her son any more than she left Clark in Lethal Weapon. She doesn't shy away from danger. And Clark is trying to protect her as he does, despite knowing that she runs towards danger when others might run away (or wish she wouldn't).

Putting this story in the timeline that you did, you show that Todd does grow out of this stage in order to behave beautifully at his brother's wedding.

I wish you lots of luck with your internal and external struggles with your son. I, too, hope this is only a phase.
You are a hero in many of us mom's hearts, Lynn.

Hello Virginia,

Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm no hero, though; I'm just a survivor (and nowadays I'm struggling even to be that). The survivor is the person who involuntarily gets trapped in a burning building and manages to remain alive; the hero is the person who voluntarily runs into the burning building to rescue the survivor. As far as I'm concerned, the real heroes are my son's teachers, paraprofessionals, and therapists -- the people who choose to work with him and with others like him. Lord knows that they could earn a paycheck more easily in other ways; that they choose to devote their energies in this manner instead makes them heroes in my book.

Joy,
Lynn

Thanks again to all who expressed concern for my situation. I wanted to post an update: Things became really bad shortly after I wrote this story -- a couple of times, my son even bit me hard enough to break the skin and send me to a walk-in clinic for antibiotics. With the help of a wonderful social worker from our state organization that deals with children who have major behavioral challenges, we were able to get my son into an appropriate facility as an in-patient in November, and just yesterday, he was finally transferred to their residential side, where he will be able to attend an on-site school. Everyone I met there seems nice, and I was extremely impressed by his primary therapist and his teacher.

To say I have mixed emotions about him being there and me becoming an empty-nester under these circumstances is a huge understatement, but (intellectually, at least) I am certain that this is for the best for both him and me, and that both of our qualities of life will be better for his being there.

- Lynn

Lynn, I'm so, so sorry to hear your update. I'm sure it's not an easy decision to have made, but all of here know you've made the decision that is best for the both of you. I don't have adequate words to convey how my heart hurts for you. But I admire your strength in continuing to be a warrior who fights to give her son the absolute best for him to be able to thrive.

Sending virtual hugs your way.

Hi DC,

Thank you for your kind words and the virtual hug. I don't think things have fully sunk in yet, but I must admit to having experienced a pang putting my son's book bag into the basement to store indefinitely. (I don't know whether he will ever come home to live or whether he will stay where he is until he is an adult and then goes to live in a group home. I want to keep the book bag just in case.)

Thanks again,
Lynn

Wow, Lynn! I'm also very sorry to hear what you've been going through. No matter what you think, it took exceptional courage and love to do what you've done. In caring for your son, and seeing that he is in the best place for him, you've put him first, and you are a Caregiving Hero. And like most caregivers, you probably don't recognize that you are heroic. Most caregivers don't even consider themselves caregivers, just say "I'm a Mom/Dad/Son/Daughter/etc. That's what I do." But what you have done and continue to do daily not everyone does.

Keep his book bag. You never know he might just need it again. And please, take care of yourself. I'm sure you're grieving and recovering.

Sending you positive thoughts and more virtual hugs.

Lynn, I have to agree with cuidadora. Keep the bag. It may not mean much, but I pray he's able to come home again and use it. And, to echo her again, please, take care of yourself. It's so easy to lose yourself in caring for everyone else.

Cuidadora and DC, thank you both. Your kind words and reassurances mean a lot to me. "I'm a Mom; that's what I do" is exactly how I feel, and a part of me does feel like a failure of a Mom, at that. But I did the best I knew how to do and now the "best I know how to do" means letting others care for and teach my son.

I definitely plan to keep his book bag. In a lot of ways, it reminds me of Radar's teddy bear.

Don't worry about me taking care of myself. I am really doing so now for the first time since my son was born. I've started exercising again and plan to lose the excess weight I've been adding over the years, and today I plan to head to a local festival and have a day of expending time, money, and energy just having *fun*. (I've almost forgotten what that was like.)

Joy,
Lynn