Thursday, April 03, 2008


The files I blanked out on Tuesday were restored.

I wrote the program to compare them, the secret passwords contained within. This proved that while I was on vacation, the passwords for 7000 users got corrupted and no one could log in. I had a cubicle full of guys in here yesterday panicking (kinda) about it but, after a couple stressful days of tracking down the cause and possible [safe] solutions, the passwords have been restored, without any loss of users' data, and the site was opened at 10:00 EDT this morning.

I know you all were very concerned about this and I wanted to let you to know you could breathe now, everything's gonna be alright.

I hope my son will be alright, too.

Yesterday we got him a new puzzle from the dollar section at Target. Last night he found the puzzle and helped himself. He knows he has to run a knife between the box and lid to cut the paper label to release the pieces. He also knows bandaids are for bleeding fingers.

I follow the trail of clues: puzzle box on the kitchen counter, mostly opened, full of pieces. Why did he go to the trouble to open the puzzle and not take it with him? Then I notice a smear of blood on the lid. At first I'm calm, then I start to panic and run upstairs to find him. He's sitting at the computer, happy as a clam, playing his computer games with his right hand, clamping his left fingers around his thumb. I insist on inspecting. When I get close enough to look I see a sloppily placed bandaid covering a small, still bleeding gash across the tip of his thumb.

I could have left him alone at that point. He was alive, after all, and most of the blood had been contained in the bandage. But I pulled it off and washed his thumb in soap and water and redressed the wound, one bandaid across the top to hold the cut together and then one around to keep the first one in place. That's when I notice another clue, the litter on the bathroom counter: a blood-stained paper towel from the kitchen and lots of backing strips. He must have tried several bandaids on his own but the blood inhibited stickage.

I asked him if he hurt. I'm not sure he gets "hurt," he always answers "no," but he did clutch this thumb for a long time after that even though his mood was fine. Autism is a funny thing. He's smart enough to know how to fix his problem, but he can't communicate what happened or how he feels. I'm just thankful he's as high functioning as he is, but sometimes I wish he could express more. It is Autism Awareness Month, if you didn't know.

And just for effect, I call my mom later, and say as soon as she answers, "How long is it supposed to bleed before I go to the hospital?"

Panic, it's fun to share.


iamnot said...

Mine is different, but there's a lot of overlap with your son.
I don't know how to reach him on things like that. They have to learn to take care of those things properly.
I worry sometimes that even if we get him able to live a marginal life of independence, some little thing will go untended and have serious consequences.

Lorraine said...

"How long is it supposed to bleed before I go to the hospital"...gotta remember that one.

I haven't said it lately but it bears repeating, I really admire all the effort that goes into raising an autistic child. I know it's not easy but you never complain. You're amazing.

Anne said...

iamnot, I know what you mean.

Lorraine, Thanks, but he's not that "hard" to parent, not like the honors student who won't turn in assignments or practice saxophone, or sneaks internet usage after hours....

scrappintwinmom said...

I hear you there. My girls are PDD-NOS and we get a lot of that too. My daughters know that they have a "boo boo" and they need "band-aids" and "medicine" (aka neosporin)...but then the bandaids become ornamental. If it makes you feel any better, I would have re-dressed the cut too. Here via Michele and I feel your pain.