All Because of Henry

by Nuala Gardner

  Thomas created more havoc and mischief in his first eighteen months than the two Henrys ever had. It was akin to parenting a nightmare child. We told everyone he had the same gene pool as the famous Labrador Marley. Had we been able to obtain an ASBO for him, we would have done. In fact, we’d have sold him on eBay! That one-dog vandalism team cost us a fortune! However, he was also the cuddliest, most emotional sponge of a dog we had ever owned. He stayed and we coped, with a large dollop of humour! He was family. He kept us in stitches, and was a willing workhorse for the ever-resourceful Amy.

  Once, I became aware that she was in her room “playing” with him. He was sitting contentedly inside her toy stable, with the door firmly bolted. She, meanwhile, had absconded to the garden! On his head, he modelled a pair of her shocking pink knickers, allegedly resembling a racing horse’s headgear. He seemed to find them quite fetching. He was quite happy to bolt, adornments still in place!

  He was also the worst chewer and digger we have ever known – nothing was safe. From the outset, like Amy, he over bonded and couldn’t cope alone, despite having Henry around. He thwarted all my efforts. Nothing worked. Left for even ten minutes, Thomas would find something to destroy. His targets included letters, newspapers, shoes and socks, but his real favourites were knickers (clean or worn), my makeup and brushes, or anything else from my dressing table. Perhaps his pièce de résistance was his theft of the toilet bag containing my sanitary products. I discovered its disappearance when I went to the back garden. Thomas was enjoying a party, chewing the contents, one by one. How lovely for my neighbours to see that, despite my mature years, I was still fertile!

  Spectacles were another special – designer ones were a blast! Amy’s horses or stable dolls – nothing was out of bounds. Eventually, everywhere I went, Thomas went too. This got around the problem, but solved nothing. It certainly didn’t cover his fun with food.

  Before I cooked, I had to round up utensils from wherever Thomas had secreted them. If a visitor arrived, the fiendish hound would retrieve a carving knife from his hoard and run around excitedly, the blade protruding from his mouth, sideways. He found everything, and ate anything! A whole frozen chicken, a 12” spicy pizza, a whole box of chocolates. You name it, that dog devoured it! Christmas and Easter were particular feast days for him. He left nothing but a trail of foil!

  It scares me to think about the amount of chocolate he’s consumed over the years, as human chocolate is extremely toxic to dogs. To feed his addiction, he acquired another skill – that of a master locksmith. He opened bedroom and wardrobe doors, sniffing out his treasures. I never did find a kitchen bin that was Thomas-proof. But somehow we adapted.

  Out and about, I began to address the dogs as “the boys”. Soon, both would return together when I shouted, “Boys.” (It meant dinner or a biscuit, usually!) Dale had trained Henry to a high standard and we were amused to discover that that dog had developed a fine brain, too. There was real rivalry between the boys, jealousy even, but Henry ensured he was in control. Whenever Thomas was the centre of attention, Henry would retrieve a toy, tail at full throttle. He knew his rival would be distracted and take the toy. This let the senior dog move in and bask in the attention. Henry’s tactic has never failed yet!

  Curiously, Thomas’s vandalism reminded me of the positive power a dog can have with an autistic child. When Dale was young, he tolerated Henry stealing his trains, even when the occasional one was damaged. We were never allowed that! Similarly, Amy became distressed if I moved one of her horses. As Thomas could find anything, he often helped himself to a toy horse or stable doll. Despite being sad at the loss of a beloved horse, or worse, Scott the farrier doll (who met a spectacularly gruesome end with the devil dog!), she coped. Intrigued, I had to ask them why.

  Dale explained. “Henry stealing my trains and toys didn’t upset me because I trusted him completely. His trusting face and all the qualities he had being a dog, like his soft fur, his gentle character, made me really comfortable with him. He didn’t have all the complexities of unpredictable human faces, with their changing personalities.”

  Or as Amy told me: “It was because Thomas was a dog. I didn’t want to upset him by being angry. But I would get angry with people, because they were grown-ups and should know how to behave better with my things.”

  One incident stands out. Years of dog ownership have given me a practical approach to interior design. I accepted emulsion walls everywhere. Dog drool and muddy tail marks were wipeable. We had a large drab hall and I decided, for once, I wanted something stylish. There was a beautiful designer paper I really liked. It was washable! No sooner had I lassoed a decorator than my hall was transformed. A fortnight later, I was rushing to collect Jamie from work. For once, I didn’t take Thomas. He only had twenty minutes alone. On my return, Henry immediately caught my eye as he made his swift getaway to Dale’s room. He had his tail between his legs with a worried look on his face: It wisnae me, and I’m oot o’ here!

  Momentarily, I found this odd, and then I opened the door fully. The hall floor was knee-deep in large and small shredded pieces of my precious wallpaper. Two of the walls were completely stripped back to the emulsion. As I waded through the mess, screaming, the culprit was nowhere to be seen. When I entered the lounge, he was lying in the middle of the floor, with a large piece of wallpaper draped over his head. He continued to chew his way through even that, like an advert for a certain famous toilet roll.

  I yelled again. “THOMAS, what have you done?”

  Still trying to work out how he managed this devastation, his response was to make his way to the dog cupboard in the kitchen, sit, tail wagging in anticipation of his usual treat. No way – not on your life, pal!

  When we investigated how he had managed to become a professional wallpaper stripper, we discovered that, as the paper had been pasted onto emulsion, the paste had been absorbed into the walls, leaving little dry, upturned corners. Enter Thomas!

  Clearing up and eventually seeing the funny side, we tried not to catch sight of the mournful pooch, lying with a bemused look in his eyes. Well, you would leave me on my own . . .

  Fortunately, we managed to get the same paper and Jamie even remembered the batch number. My hall was restored to its former glory. It was expensive, but truthfully the problem was easily resolved. A pity the same couldn’t be said for Thomas’s brain!

  5

  Eye of the Storm

  In September I attended the tenth anniversary celebration of Inverclyde Barnardo’s Family Support Services, where Dale had been volunteering for eighteen months. His drama group was performing and I was invited as a service user, having benefitted from their befriender and sitter services, lifelines to us for so long. This event gave me some time out, meeting parents I hadn’t seen in ages. It was great to catch up – and enjoy the superb buffet. While I was grazing, the father of a young boy told me how fond his son was of Dale, detailing what a change his support had made. Dale had become quite famous at Barnardo’s. There was real appreciation that he wanted to return something for all he had received. He was inspirational!

  Whilst there, I had the further joy of witnessing Dale support a physically disabled lad playing guitar. I was moved to see him guide and interact with the boy, while mindful to support the whole drama group as they entertained the audience. Truly, I thought he had the makings of a good teacher. As I waited for the performance to begin, I became aware of a shadowy figure a couple of rows behind – one Mary Smith, a spectre from fourteen years earlier. She had been Dale’s educational psychologist and professional team leader when he was just two and a half. I was well aware of the pathway Mrs Smith and her ilk intended to pave for my son. What a quality of life that would have been! According to that lady, Dale was a child at risk of abuse from me. In Mrs Smith’s view, he shouldn’t have been allowed any future in my care.

  Mrs Gardner, I think you want your son to be autistic.

  She informed the local paediatrian that I had diagnose
d Dale myself. Maybe I had. After all, who else managed? Accessing the right help in 1991 was the hell which nearly broke me.

  That was twenty years before; surely conditions have changed. Sadly not. In November 2010 the Sunday Times uncovered the terrible tale of Elliot’s family, in Hull. The parents of Elliot and Mason (five and two years old, respectively) moved their family from Hull to the East Riding of Yorkshire in a nightmarish three-day period in order to avoid Elliot being removed from the family and taken into care. The Hull authority used terms like “emotional abuse” and “bad treatment” by his mother, “resulting in developmental delay”. Enquiries in the East Riding exonerated both parents, and their reading of their son’s autism was confirmed diagnostically. Thankfully, with condition-specific education and one-to-one support, Elliot then thrived.

  It is far from unique. I cannot count the letters and emails I have received, essentially outlining the same plight. And it shows how difficult and intractable this issue remains. We all love our children. Of course we do! Yet, somewhere in that exhausting, endless struggle to secure the basics when dealing with autism, it becomes hard to enjoy them and share that love. You don’t need me to tell you that is wrong.

  Before the performance, Martin Crew, Director of Barnardo’s, gave an uplifting speech about their Inverclyde work. He was presenting awards, in recognition of staff commitment. Among them, to my delight, was our Barnardo’s babysitter, Joanne, recognised for her ten years of dedicated service. There was one prestigious award left, the Volunteer of the Year. The recipient had to be nominated by a senior staff member and the competition was always of a very high standard. The award winner was a great example of all that Barnardo’s stood for, of their ethos, encompassing diversity and inclusion – “giving children back their future”. The winner was giving back his time, and channeling the adversity he himself had experienced. Barnardo’s was privileged that he had chosen them.

  “So without further ado, it gives me great pleasure to present this year’s Volunteer of the Year award to . . . Dale Gardner!”

  The room exploded! I was bursting with pride and shed tears. However, knowing Dale didn’t like fuss, I kept a low profile!

  As he was about to embark on his HNC, with this on his CV, his career was beginning to take shape. It was no longer just a vague hope, somewhere. If this award gave me confidence in my son’s future, I cannot begin to think what it did for him. Filled with that, and the knowledge that he was truly on his way, there could have been no happier winner that night.

  In mid-September Dale started his course. I accompanied him to Motherwell College in Glasgow for a detailed assessment of his autism-related barriers in accessing the syllabus. Importantly, the evaluation would determine how these difficulties could be overcome, with specialised software and staff support strategies. The teacher assessing had a superb understanding. Watching, I was shocked to discover the extent to which his condition impacted on his learning ability. I learned so much that day, and both my children would benefit.

  We had always known that Dale’s poor fine-motor skills affected his writing, but I had never considered the difficulties he encountered in lectures. Note taking was nigh impossible because of his information processing difficulties. Whilst concentrating on his writing, he lost the understanding of the words. Copying from the whiteboard was another stumbling block. Dale would copy one word at a time, and fall behind in class. This was such a problem that at home he would rewrite his lecture notes. It was recommended that he should be given relevant notes in advance. A simple but effective adjustment.

  He was given help sorting his course information and study planning to address his problematic organisational skills. Thankfully, Sandra (from Lead Scotland) continued to support him at home, and he had guidance from Prospects’ Student Support Services. When accessing the Internet, some of the text on certain sites was a barrier. He was supplied with software developed for dyslexia. He was able to purchase all of this, including home training on the software, a Franklin System speaking dictionary and thesaurus, with his financial award from SAAS (Students Award Agency Scotland). However, of all the DDA learning adjustments highlighted that day, there was one paramount recommendation. Dale was awarded a generous package of extra human support, to ensure he suffered no disadvantage whatsoever. SAAS approved the employment of someone qualified to HNC level in early years childcare as a proofreader, and employed four hours of general support each week. The college could employ anyone – even a newly qualified student. There were plenty such people needing work. Alternatively, SAAS would pay any of the college tutors willing, at the same hourly rate. It was recommended throughout, should he need to take long lecture notes, he should have a note taker.

  With these support measures identified, Dale and I felt he would cope. All staff would be made aware of his barriers to learning and be copied into the adjustments – there would be no confusion. Teaching staff were to be lenient regarding spelling, grammar, and the structure and style of his work, the emphasis being on the factual content. Dale could contact his tutors by email or by prior appointment to go over the contents of lectures or assignments. He was to receive all lecture handouts and information in electronic format, with time to read them. If he did not get the information beforehand, he was to be able to make photocopies of the lecture notes after. He would not have to ask for notes.

  Dale was to be given a copy of his A4 placement folder electronically, giving him backup papers for all eventualities. The extra human support would help him decipher his assignments and understand what was required in his nursery tasks. For exams he was to have 25 per cent extra time, an interpreter, prompt, reader and scribe. He had flexibility in submitting assignments, providing he gave the lecturer forty-eight hours’ notice should he be likely to miss a deadline. He would receive his assignments early, which would be proofread prior to marking. In total, Dale was awarded a comprehensive package of £5,199.49. Included in that sum, Duncan Currie College was granted £3,897 to utilise that funding.

  With that support, I told Dale, there was no reason not to do well. It was up to him to study hard. In retrospect, I wish that I had scrutinised his adjustments in more detail and ensured they were being implemented. Had I taken the time to go through them properly with him, it would have avoided much of what he was to face, but he was doing so well and wanted greater independence . . . I took just a fleeting interest. The adjustments were formally documented. What could go wrong?

  Waiting for the college to implement this, he purchased all the equipment, and a lovely lady, Annmarie, trained him on the new software. Well worth the £1,028 from the overall figure. However, it wasn’t the start of things going well for Dale. Instead, he was in the eye of a storm.

  At first, everything seemed to be going well. Sandra continued to visit weekly, helping Dale set out assignments and the like. That funding soon ran out. Officially she was unable to help, but she continued in her own time, as a friend. She knew that with the right guidance he could qualify, and she was adamant that his chances would not be compromised by a funding issue. Her generosity was to be a lifeline. Without it, Dale would have been unable to carry on. We will always be thankful for Sandra’s integrity.

  Prospects’ Student Support Services complemented her support. Dale regularly visited a student support worker who helped him with study timetables and similar problems. His next hurdle was fitting into a new nursery placement two days a week. He was allocated a staff member there as his trainer, to guide him through the tasks in the confusing and difficult to decipher manual.

  Nevertheless, with the human support, those problems were manageable. As Dale was a qualified NC childcare worker, he was, in turn, expected to support NC students on his placements. I thought this would be stressful, but he told me, “Mum, I don’t mind helping new students, because I know how they feel. I’m used to working with new volunteers at Barnardo’s, so I know I can deal with helping NC students and I already have.”

  Invercl
yde has abundant local authority preschool nurseries, and many private ones. Gourock is a couple of miles out of Inverclyde’s catchment area, and around fifteen miles from its furthest nursery. As Dale had already acquired practical experience in Rising Fives Nursery, a private provision, he needed to broaden his skills in a different environment. It was expected that he, like any student, would be placed near his home. However, at a meeting with Anna Williamson and a member of the learning support staff, one issue in particular troubled us: the proposed nursery placement. Dale was to be sent to a large local authority provision, in a socially challenged area, fifteen miles away. How was he to get to this placement on time twice a week? It would entail rising around 5 a.m., leaving forty minutes later, taking a bus to the train station, the train to Port Glasgow town centre, yet another bus, then a walk to the nursery! Anyone would be stressed travelling to a strange area, hoping all the transport connections would synchronise. Imagine what that would do to Dale, before arriving at a challenging environment to carry out a full day of responsible work?

  It was suggested that providing him with (entitled) free transport might help, a local taxi for the whole journey. We were annoyed. Apart from the needless waste of public money, it undermined his hard-won independence with his travel card. The situation was unreasonable for any student, so we bore down on the tutors to provide an alternative. Eventually, Dale was assigned to another large mainstream local authority nursery. Glynhill, in the east end area of Greenock, was about eight miles away. Again, it was an area with many social challenges. We were all concerned that he had been given such a demanding placement. Whilst he was required to adapt to the situations children from various homes bring, he needed a nursery where he would not have added pressures. There were plenty such nurseries in Inverclyde.