Boom! Booh-Yah!

I got around to posting “Eureka!,” about Martin’s potential salicylate intolerance, only yesterday. I try to keep Finding My Kid as current as possible. Alas, in this case, I’m behind schedule; we’ve already been doing the low-salicylate diet for a week-and-a-half, since Tuesday afternoon, January 3.

Last week, the first week, Martin seemed better than when we were skiing. The difference was mostly ephemeral, so I wasn’t sure if I might be imagining a change, to fit my own salicylate narrative. He had fewer meltdowns, I thought. He seemed more connected. But he was still perseverating plenty, so I wasn’t sure. The weekend went well. My brother Eddie came for a visit, with the express purpose of taking Martin to the City to do whatever he wanted. The two of them were gone all day, Saturday. Eddie reported no problems.

Then came Monday, the seventh day of a low-salicylate diet for Martin. To my surprise, Martin came home from school with a special note from his teacher, which read, “Mrs. N— is so proud of my amazing day! Martin worked so hard and had a wonderful day!” The note was accompanied by a math test—all word problems—on which Martin had scored 100%, and because that night’s homework was “correct the math problems you missed,” Martin had no homework. Monday afternoon, Martin went to his taekwondo class and performed—not “well,” per se, but better than usual.

Tuesday, I accompanied Martin’s class on a field trip. Martin was clingy, from the unusual circumstance of having me near him during a school event. I wouldn’t say he had a fabulous day. He melted down during a presentation by a museum administrator, who summoned several children as volunteers but refused to call upon not the over-enthusiastic Martin.

Wednesday I received a text from Martin’s behaviorist, who was in the classroom: “Another great day again. More independence, better attention, quicker work completion, better staying on task, increase in social initiation.” Wednesday afternoon came another note in Martin’s backpack, from his teacher. This one, which was on his daily evaluation sheet (the Monday note was on a regular blank page) read: “Martin had an amazing day today! So proud of him J —Mrs. N—.” In the row for “Partner Work” was an additional note: “worked really well with his math partner!”fullsizerender-4

Thursday brought another victory. The note, on Martin’s daily evaluation sheet, read: “Super day today, again! Mrs. N— is so proud of Martin! J” In the row for “Partner Work” was written “Great partner work today,” with a smiley face formed from two exclamation points.fullsizerender-6

Thursday evening, after work, I spent an evening on the town with a group of fellow special-needs moms, and Adrian was in South America on business, so Martin’s babysitter Samara stayed with him. Samara was preparing dinner when Martin took snuck into the kitchen and stole an organic mango Samara had peeled and sliced for herself. Samara texted me immediately to say Martin had eaten the mango while she was distracted and she hoped it wouldn’t interfere with his new diet. After a flurry of iPhone research, I replied, “Good news! I just looked mango up, and it’s ‘moderate’ salicylate—so not good but not as bad as it could be.”

Apparently, however, it was enough. At 9:13 pm, Samara texted me, “He is still awake but in bed already. He’s laughing for no reason. Sí. I guess it was the mango.” Martin was still awake when I arrived home after 10:00 pm. I went to check on him and found him in the laundry bin in his bathroom. I asked, “What on earth are you doing?” He replied, “Well, I’m sitting here in this laundry bin.”

Given Thursday night’s post-mango escapades—as far as I can tell, Martin fell asleep around 10:40 pm, some three hours after bedtime—I feared that Friday might be rough. No indeed. This daily evaluation sheet came home:fullsizerender-5

Please, examine that sheet carefully. The daily evaluation sheet that Martin’s behaviorist devised rates him in various categories—“followed routine directions,” “raised hand and waited to be called on,” &c.—on a scale from 1 to 5. A 1 means “heavily prompted.” A 5 represents “excellent independence,” or as the behaviorist described it to me, a 5 means that Martin performed on an independence level similar to any other kid in his (mainstream) class. Friday’s evaluation sheet rated Martin a 5 in every category, both morning and afternoon. That means, on Friday, according to Martin’s teacher, Martin performed at a level similar to any other kid in his mainstream class. A level similar to every other kid. The evaluation was accompanied by yet another handwritten note: “Another amazing day today! ❤ So proud of you!!”

Let me add, if I may, that I do not usually receive handwritten notes from Martin’s teacher. Each of these was special, and unique.

Now, there are caveats. First, I have not been seeing the same kind of super-improvement at home, or in Martin’s after-school activities. His meltdowns have decreased, homework is going well, and he seems less irritable. But I would not affix an “amazing” label to his home behavior. Maybe he’s taking advantage of me. Second, Martin has been having trouble falling asleep. This week he was up until 9:40 pm, 10:30 pm, even near midnight once. As a result, he’s been tired and lacking some focus. So I can’t say everything is fabulous. In any event, at school the trajectory is upward. Dramatically upward, apparently.

Here’s a funny addendum. At least it’s funny to me, and probably to other biomed parents. Wednesday, Martin’s behaviorist, who knows we do biomed, texted me from his classroom, which she visits once per week. She wrote: “Another great day again. More independence, better attention, quicker work completion, better staying on task, increase in social initiation. Supplements kicking in? Only difference here is aide is out again.” With that last sentence, she meant Martin’s one-on-one aide, who was absent all week with flu.

I wrote back: “No—believe it or not, over Christmas break, I think I discovered that Martin is salicylate-intolerant. I’ve been cutting all salicylates from his diet—and now these results.”

The behaviorist responded: “I can’t keep up with all his allergies and intolerances anymore. What can this poor kid eat?”

I explained what salicylates are and assured her that Martin is still finding plenty to eat (more on that later). Then I expressed my enthusiasm for how much this new dietary tweak seemed to be helping.

The behaviorist, evidently skeptical, went in a different direction: “The other variable is the teacher and I are really trying to pull Martin’s aide back further. She goes through periods of hovering. And I think it stresses him out. The substitute aide isn’t being utilized very much. I think the more freedom relaxes him and that could be the factor as well.”

Aha! Martin’s school performance just bumped not because we discovered a salicylate intolerance and took action, but because he has a substitute aide. Cue the eye roll.

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7 thoughts on “Boom! Booh-Yah!

  1. We are not on a biomed path as our son’s extremely restrictive food choices preclude this. Also his autism is visible throughout our family tree and heritable traits probably can’t be eliminated entirely by an altered diet. However our son’s behaviour varies considerably depending on who is looking after him and how secure he feels. Not all sides are helpful….. while low-sal may well be helping don’t ignore the effect of his environment out of hand. There’s a lovely book called Uniquely Human about this sort of thing which might be worth a look. Thanks for writing – we are on a path much more to do with movement than food due to our family’s ASD presentation but we have the same burden of analysis and choices as you seem to! Bonne Chance

    • Thanks for reading! A few thoughts on your comment: I agree that environment is also relevant, and we pay a great deal of attention to environment and behavioral assists. But seldom (in my experience, never) do they yield an immediate effect; a substitute aide does not make a great day, or week—though a new aide certainly can change the course of the year. In terms of the biomed path, I don’t know of any child whose autism was corrected entirely by an altered diet. Diet is only the foundation of the healing path. Moving along that path requires supplementation, methylation assistance, detoxification, etc., specific to the child. Genetic and inheritable traits also play a great role in my son’s condition. I would be naïve to think otherwise. Both my brothers have immune disorders, and psychological/psychiatric conditions (which I now would call health conditions) are endemic in my family. That does not mean my son’s autism cannot be lessened, if not resolved, through biomed. Epigenetics, neuroplasticity, and all that I know about the science of healing suggest otherwise. In terms of your son having extremely restrictive food choices—well, that brings me to a paradox. In my experience working with biomed families, children who restrict their food choices are usually the biggest beneficiaries of biomed, once it gets going. The food aversions, which often have underlying digestive causes, tend to disappear once the irritants are removed from the diet. I would encourage you to give it a try! But even if it’s not right for your family, that’s okay too. It sounds like you are doing a lot for your son in any event, and I hope it will get him where he needs to be. Whatever approach we take, we are all in this together.

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  3. I really enjoy reading your blog! I’m a teacher and I’d say that most kids can have a super day at school and then a less-super time at home. Keeping behavior together for a whole day can be draining, so when he gets home he has less self-control left over for you. It’s okay! Every parent I talk to says exactly what you’re saying 🙂

    • I think about that too, especially since this is Martin’s first year in a mainstream classroom. I think it must be exhausting for him! Plus, he has after-school activities. We try to cut him some slack.

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