Meltdown Emergency

Nathan had a full blown meltdown yesterday. The school secretary called me at work, and she sounded so ticked-off. She said it was an emergency, and that I was to come get him immediately.

I tried to reach dh, but he didn't have his cellphone on. I called his work, but he left a half hour earlier. I called home, but he wasn't there. So, even though we were two people short at work, I had to leave to get my son.

OMG, when I got there, it looked like a bomb went off. The classroom was a disaster area. They were still cleaning up. Paper and books, crayons and markers, all over the floor. They were picking up desks, too.

My poor son. He looked traumatized. They said he would sleep good tonight. They also said he would probably be hoarse from screaming. They had four or five people holding him down, pinned to the floor. They tried to let him up once, but he through a shoe at the principal, so they held him until he was calmer. Good grief. Everybody looked like they had been through the ringer.

I tried to tell them that holding him down only escallates the situation (in fact, holding him at all), but I also knew they probably had no other choice. I don't blame them. He could hurt someone else, or hurt himself. It just seems like there should be a better way to handle this. And I wish I knew what it was.

His poor teacher looked like a doe caught in the headlights. I looked at her and said, "I guess now you know what a meltdown is like." I was sort of kidding her, since she asked about it at the Autism Team meeting, only the day before. She nodded, like it was something she wouldn't soon forget. I felt so bad for her.

She kept saying that she had no idea what caused the meltdown. It just came out of nowhere. I knew better. I would have seen it coming. But that's something I can't teach to her. The signs are just too subtle, and too fast. She can't monitor him that closely, and be able to teach at the same time. I know she thinks she can see his mood change, but she has only seen the slow-building outbursts. She's never seen the real thing. The bad meltdowns come swift and powerful, and you get so little warning. It takes someone who knows him well, very very well, to see any warning at all. I tried to explain that in the Autism Team meeting, but I know she didn't believe me.

The principal and the teacher both asked me to find out what happened, why he had the meltdown. They couldn't get it out of him. I knew before I even got him home. It wasn't one thing, like getting mad about losing a game. It was numerous things, that all added up. For one thing, he was so hungry that his stomach was growling and hurting. Of course, he couldn't eat because the meds make him sick. Then they had a spelling game called "Sparkle." I didn't really understand his explanation of the game (I just let him talk without asking too many questions), but I understood enough to know that he was taken out of the game and that this really frustrated him. The real topper was the volume. The room got very loud, and everyone was talking. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't be quiet. His head hurt, and he finally exploded. (I noticed when I arrived that the air show had planes flying over the school. It was not as loud as it had been where I worked, but that noise must have added to his sensory issues, too). Basically, the loud talking in the classroom at the end of the day was simply the proverbial last straw on the camel's back. Nathan just couldn't take any more, and he exploded. Here he kept it together even after losing the game, but then the noise level was just too much.

That poor kid. He looked like he had been through hell. I just wanted to scoop him up and run off with him. It's so hard to see that look in your child's eyes.