Passages

The picture of the little boy, above, is of my grandson, Donovan. I took the photo when he was four years old. This was seven years before we learned he was autistic. Donovan had been misdiagnosed as having Attention Deficit Disorder at age seven, and prescribed medications which made some of his symptoms worse, including causing him to have suicidal thoughts at age eight. He is an Aspie, as some folks now refer to people with Asperger's Syndrome. Donovan is on the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum, which means he has a greater chance of being "mainstreamed" than youngsters on the more profoundly autistic end of the scale. Like most Aspies, he has a high IQ and absorbs information like a sponge. Also like most children within the autism spectrum, his social skills and emotional maturity lag behind his intelligence and physical development. Consequently, he is now a 6'4" tall, highly intelligent, high-school junior – turning eighteen today (Sunday, 10-10-10) – who sometimes sounds like a boy of twelve, or fourteen. On really bad days, he's more like a child of nine or ten, but those days are fewer and farther between than they were last year and the year before that.

He is maturing, physically, more rapidly than his mother would like to see. He used to be too small for his age, and was started on growth hormones two years ago. At that time, he was a little shorter than I am (I'm 5'6", and shrinking, height-wise). He now towers above me, and his mother, his father, both biological grandfathers, most of the kids at his high school – and the teachers, as well! What's alarming is that the growth plates on his bones have not hardened yet, which means he's still growing. He'd be great at basketball, I think, but his coordination hasn't caught up with his height yet.

He had a girlfriend this spring, but the romance faltered: neither one of them is ready, yet, for such a relationship. Donovan is a kind-hearted young man, generous in spirit, protective of kids smaller and younger than he, probably because he was bullied so when he was younger and small.

He wants to get his driver's license, but he has what seems like the human version of fainting-goat disorder. Sometimes, when he's under a high level of stress, he passes out. Not what you'd want in a driver sharing the road with you. Until the cause of the fainting can be determined, and either cured or medicated, he won't be issued a license.

Donovan faces multiple challenges on his road to adulthood, many of which will be with him for the rest of his life. He's a good kid with a good brain and loads of potential. He will adapt to life among the rest of us (which may or may not be such a good thing), and will make his mark in this world. He is dearly loved and has the support of more than just his family, so I believe he will do well.

The body of the boy in the first image has grown and is now that of a young man, but the eyes that look at me when we're talking haven't changed a bit. They belong to the same four-year-old who thought the universe was a place of wonderment, magic and boundless joy, who thought his Nanny was his best friend.

I will be, for as long as I live – and maybe beyond that.

Happy birthday, my beloved Boo-Boo!