Altered images, Becoming Parents of our Disabled Children
A must-have read for parents of disabled children
At last, the book parents of disabled children wanted to read has been written ... by them. A group of parents from Ryedale Special Families, North Yorkshire joined together four years ago to share their experiences. They realised they had the authority to write this book about facing the challenge of who their children were. Each parent has confronted different situations - Autism, Cerebral Palsy, Down’s Syndrome, learning disabilities and having babies in special care units. What they had in common was a world that didn’t understand and that world sometimes included families and partners.
The result is Altered Images: Becoming parents of our disabled children. It is written for other parents, to guide and sustain them on the complex journey ahead. The book explores diagnosis, dealing with the professionals, decisions about schooling, independent living and family life. It includes different types of writing: diary extracts, autobiography, poetry, opinion pieces and wry observations on life. What sets this book apart is its truthful and unsentimental account of a life very different from that which any parent expects. The book does not provide easy answers nor does it have a feel - good happy ending. Altered Images tells it as it is ...the highs, the lows, the good and the bad.
This is not just a book for parents. It is a book for anyone who needs a better understanding, especially professionals working with these families. They will gain an unparalleled insight into the daily lives, struggles and pleasures of ordinary people with extraordinary children.
Extracts
Please note, extracts must not be used without prior permission from Ryedale Special Families and must be fully acknowledged.
‘The Professionals’ by Gillian Upton Holmes
Many parents marvel at the sheer number of experts deemed necessary to their child’s well - being.
The professionals, that brigade of experts who march into your life, often into your house, where they drink all your coffee, tell you a hundred things you don’t want to know or alternatively keep everything totally secret with the tenacity of a member of the French Resistance under torture.
There’s a paediatrician for the whole child and a consultant paediatrician for all the bits where something is wrong. Hal had experts for eyes (5), ears (2 and a nurse) and teeth (2). He had a speech therapist – they are not only for speech (which he can’t do), but also for language and communication, and swallowing as well. That’s thirteen already and we’re only down to the neck.
Hal had an occupational therapist for adapting things he holds, sits, stands or lies on, and a physiotherapist as well, who stretches him out, stands him up and issues boots and splints. Then there are splint specialists (latex or rigid, sir?) and a neurologist for botox injections to loosen stiff muscles. Wheelchairs are assessed and issued by a wheelchair specialist, who is also a physiotherapist, but not the same one as for seats and stretching. Swimming was sometimes done by physios, and sometimes by volunteers, but mostly it was not done at all which was a pity, as it is the one thing which is both good for him and enjoyable. In the case of a specific problem, say epilepsy as in Hal’s case, there’s an expert for that too. And before a child starts school you may also be in touch with an Educational Psychologist, a pre-school teacher, a pre-school setting SENCO (Special Educational Needs Co-ordinator), a Portage worker and a Parent Partnership officer.
FACT: By the time a disabled child reaches the age of 5, he (and his dazed and confused mama) will have seen an average of 33 different professionals.
'Unhelpful and hurtful comments' by Lesley
They said: Maybe he would be better dead
They said: Put him in a home and get on with your life
They said: At least you have one son who is normal
They said: How good he was born to you –you will know how to look after him
They said: At least he didn’t die in hospital
They said: Good job he’s underweight – won’t be so heavy to lift and carry
They said: Forget your tears, get on and look after your children; think of them not yourself
They said: Make sure you have time for yourself
but they never,
not once, not ever,
offered to help or have any of the boys.
‘Bustin’ by a Mum
Who designs disabled loos? Clearly not disabled people. Now, you may think this is a funny subject to want to write about but, believe you me, if you were disabled and you needed the loo you would want this matter raising because you would already know many disabled loos are ‘no go areas' for wheelchair users.
Let’s look at the obvious. Which section of the community are disabled loos aimed at? Physically disabled, of course. But many loos are not big enough to fit a wheelchair. Now, if the disabled person could walk and leave the wheelchair outside we wouldn’t have a problem because then we wouldn’t need disabled loos at all. Everyone could use the existing ladies and gents. This is all starting to sound rather ridiculous. Can somebody just tell loo designers to please design wheelchair accessible loos big enough to actually take a wheelchair? To the few designers who have successfully designed large, accessible loos please ignore this and accept my heartfelt thanks.
While I am on the subject, and for some amazing reason still hold your attention, could we also have overhead hoists fitted please? In all my years of caring I have only ever found one toilet with an overhead hoist. Well, at least it is a start. Change comes slowly. I sometimes feel as if we are facing a long uphill road all the way. I hope there is an accessible loo at the top.
Reviews
"Thank you for this special book – for finally putting into words the feelings of so many parents. Your words have given me a glimmer of hope. " A parent
Altered Images is essential reading which sets a new standard for intimacy and candour in books by parents. Every page has the unmistakeable ring of truth. The book is a rich mix of opinion, autobiography, diary and poetry about being and becoming parents of disabled children. Here you will find tears of sadness, tears of unbearable pain and tears of pure joy. Do not be surprised if you find your own tear on the page. But don’t expect a sentimental journey. This book hits hard. It might change how you think and work tomorrow. It might change how you see yourself and your own family. Readers are invited to accompany people on their journeys between the conventional world and the disability world, between ‘toil, struggle and pain’ and ‘amazing joy’, between ‘hell’ and ‘rock bottom’ and ‘most positive life-changing experience’. You will meet people hovering between these states, going back and to and finding no place to settle.
Readers of Altered Images will soon be disabused of any cosy assumptions they have about ‘another book by parents’. There can be no assumption that every story ends well or that all parents emerge triumphant from the fire. Children can die, families can break under the strain, people can be defeated by life’s events. Life comes to every one of us as a mystery between painful birth and certain death. The people who share their lives and their intimate thoughts in this book don’t profess to have any clearer idea than the rest of us about what life is all about. But many of them live with these questions on a daily basis and perhaps this gives them an advantage the rest of us do not have; a longer view, wider horizons and a closer contact with the mystery.
Who should read this book? I would not want to exclude anyone. If you work in this field, give a copy to your friends and relatives on their next birthday. Then they will begin to understand the world you work in and why you do it. If you are a member of a family with a disabled child, then get the book to other families in your networks. For them, Altered Images can be an aid to reflection as they struggle to understand what has happened, who they have become. If you work in what the book refers to as ‘Disability PLC’, then Altered Images, as the authentic voice of parents, will inform and energise everyone involved in service delivery and service development. Altered Images is valuable awareness training for all of us, whether we are family members or have families as our clients, friends or neighbours.
Peter Limbrick is Editor of the Interconnections Electronic Bulletin and a writer and consultant. hyperlink to www.**
This is a book written by a parent led self help group in North Yorkshire.
Described as a collection of writing about being and becoming parents of disabled children, the book reflects the character of the different authors and the different journeys they have taken with their children. Not all the children have survived.
It reflects the diversity of views and the kaleidoscope of different emotions often held simultaneously as parents face the harsh reality that fate has given them. It is divided into different sections corresponding to the stages of that journey concluding with the "The job of a lifetime" an ideal job description of such a parent
It initially reminded me of Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe writing his will while on the desert island so that by putting his thoughts down on paper they no longer affected his mind. There after all is a healing that comes from writing. However it is evidently clear that the parents have been profoundly affected by their journeys and realistically hope that this book will positively affect the minds of others presently ignorant or holding positions too often buttressed by platitudes and condescension. There are many different styles, autobiographies, poems and what are described as "opinion pieces."
All but one of the authors are female, one of whom is anonymous. The writing at times is raw but never less than powerful. There are many striking vignettes and I will just mention three:
A mother applauds the candour of an orthopaedic surgeon "Twenty years ago, when Tom’s orthopaedic surgeon held that tiny deformed foot in his hand he told Tom it was a cruel world. He turned to me and spoke with a directness that most doctors seem afraid of. We spoke the same language"
Star Boy, a story of David a little boy with Down’s Syndrome written by his father (striking a chord with BAACH members’ Star emblem after the Star Thrower story) "Some bonds cannot be broken by death. The oneness of love and family seemed unbreakable before the humility and eternity of the altar. He will always be my son, always a brother, always the first born and always part of our family. And I will be his father for eternity." This contrasts strongly with David’s mother’s letter "Dealing with God "concluding with "Makes no sense. Full stop."
As parents, paediatricians and human beings we continually strive for answers that are beyond our understanding. One of the bereaved parents draws comfort not only from not having answers but having reached a stage where she feels she no longer needs them. This is something of course we all have to sort out for ourselves and come to a solution we can live individually live with
I found it a book I could only take at small portions rather than read from cover to cover at a single sitting. That is not in any way to undervalue it but rather because it forced me to think and consider from the parents’ perspective.
I would have liked more articles from fathers, and also on the doctor’s journey as relationships between the doctor the child and their family ideally mature through trust and growing friendship and how they can continue beyond the death of the child.
The sections on education I found particularly enlightening and the evolution of the debate from special education to full on inclusion irrespective of the needs of the child is poignantly put.
It is clear that parents of children with special needs value two distinct types of honest conversation, the first with the professionals who are charged with managing their child, the second with parents who have been down this road before them.
I believe that this book does what it says in being what the authors would have wanted to have read when they first started on their journeys. It emphasises the harsh reality, the inescapable suffering and frustration with no miracle doctor or cure on hand to heal. The hard and all too often undervalued (from Society’s perspective) burden that it places on disabled children and their carers is also frankly stressed, as are the authors’ reasons for their contributions and for some their ongoing personal difficulties.
Whether it can be described as an important contribution to disability literature I believe it is far too soon to tell. Nevertheless I would unhesitatingly recommend that Paediatric Departments purchase it for all their staff to read and also to have it available for parents or prospective parents, (where there is a confirmed antenatal diagnosis), to read at the start of their journey with their own "Star child."
Andrew Williams
Northampton General Hospital. Review written for BACCH news (British Association for Community Child Health) June 06