Center has given autistic boy a new life
Monday, January 29, 2007 (20:41:52)

Posted by sylvia

Chioer

January 2007

By CHRIS GULLICK

At the home of Brian and Camillia Horne, 3-year-old Daniel flashed a grin at his visitors, squealed with excitement, clapped his hands at a camera flash and hopped up and down on the couch, chattering constantly — typical high-energy behavior for a preschooler, apparently.

But his parents have learned that children don't always exhibit those typical behaviors.

In fact, autistic children are very seldom noisy or friendly.

Daniel is autistic.

Daniel's playfulness is the result of about a year and a half of intense therapy through Far Northern Regional Center, a referral and resource for people with disabilities or delayed development.

About a year and a half ago, Daniel's parents observed behaviors in their child that frightened them.

He stopped talking, stopped making eye contact, stopped playing and stopped responding — becoming extremely unsocial.

Camillia described the way he would sit in his high chair at meal times and stare out the window instead of looking at his parents.

When she or Brian entered a room Daniel was in, the toddler would often leave. If a loud noise erupted next to Daniel's head, it failed to get a reaction.

The once happy, easy-going and playful little boy didn't want to play peek-a-boo or have anything to do with his parents.

Up until about 15 months old, Daniel followed the pediatrician's chart of what babies typically accomplish, Camillia said.

The only area in which he lagged, she said, was speech. Daniel had only mastered a vocabulary of about 20 words, but he also used some sign language and other means of communication.

As a teacher who's specialized in child development, Camillia knew his vocabulary should contain closer to 50 words by that age.

"I was very aware that he wasn't where he was supposed to be," Camillia said, but all other milestones had been on time — smiling, laughing, sitting, crawling, walking and playing games like peek-a-boo.

Camillia described how worried she became when he quit communicating. Over the next few months, she talked to her friends, other teachers and family members about Daniel's behavior, asking everyone for ideas and wondering what was wrong.

Camillia suspected, apprehensively, that Daniel was autistic.

It seemed like no one believed her, she said, just assuring her that Daniel would catch up, that children mature at different rates and that boys usually don't talk as early as girls.

"I can't tell you how many times I heard, 'He's a boy'," Camillia said.

Finally, a friend at church listened to her and suggested she call Far Northern Regional Center for an evaluation.

On a Monday in August 2005, Camillia contacted Far Northern.

By Friday, she said, representatives from the center were at their house, starting to assess Daniel.

Specialists performed hearing and language tests and initiated a comprehensive plan that included one-on-one therapy, books and other resources, speech therapy, occupational therapy, time in a play group and classes for Daniel's parents.

Daniel's autism wasn't diagnosed until he was 3 years old, but the early evaluations showed him far below average for his age in speech and socialization. So his intense therapy began.

At first it was hard to have people in the house so much, Camillia said, adding that the therapists and center staff eased their way into it, starting the services slowly and then accelerating.

"Then it got like having family in the home every day," she said.

Therapist Erin Reed worked with Daniel for about two hours each day, and Camillia found they had better success if she spent that time in another room, to avoid distracting him.

He spent time twice a week with a speech therapist and an hour a week with an occupational therapist.

A range of techniques were used by different therapists, such as sign language, music and imitation.

Camillia described how Daniel had quit imitating altogether and a lot of the activities Reed did encouraged that behavior.

"Imitation is huge in learning," she pointed out, putting on a music video that Daniel likes and joining him when he imitated the singer on the screen.

The therapist created a large scrapbook, full of pictures of Daniel involved with family, friends and therapists at different stages of his progress.

Besides direct services for their son, the center funded classes for Camillia and Brian, to instruct them in ways to teach a child with autism.

"We learned a lot about what it's like for Daniel," Brian commented.

They learned to simplify communication, use repetition and slow down their speech, because Daniel could be confused by too much input.

People with autism are often sensitive to sensory stimuli, such as loud noises or too much activity, and they simply tune them out and withdraw.

Then his case worker matched him with a play group of three other autistic children and Camillia was able to share experiences with the mothers.

"I cannot say enough great things about Far Northern," she said. "They gave us the resources we wouldn't know about."

She admitted that Daniel may have life-long speech difficulties, but she credits Far Northern for his success so far.

"I want people to know there's help and not be ashamed or afraid," Camillia said.

Daniel now attends a special preschool class four mornings a week and will continue to receive some services from Far Northern.

Brian said he would like some of the stereotypes about autism to collapse, pointing out that Daniel looks like other children and now he acts like other children.

"Other than language, he's pretty much exactly like other children," Camillia agreed.

Connie Moreland-Bishop, a Far Northern supervisor, told the Enterprise-Record that Daniel's case is fairly typical of services the center arranges for young children.

The early intervention program, which she supervises from the central office in Redding, provides services to children from birth to three years who exhibit any developmental delay or who are at high risk for a developmental disability.

When the center gets a referral — which can come from diverse places, such as family physicians, social services, child care workers or other concerned individuals — the first step is for an intake specialist to meet with the family and arrange for appropriate evaluations.

In the Chico office, four specialists manage the 200-240 early intervention cases that are open now, she estimated.

But in the bulk of the center's cases, services are provided to children over 3 years old and adults who are developmentally disabled — people with mental retardation, cerebral palsy, epilepsy, autism and other neurological handicaps.

The center provides referrals and pays for professionals and resources for education, recreation, health, rehabilitation and welfare.

The therapists sent to the Hornes, Moreland-Bishop explained, were outside services contracted by the center, rather than center staff.

Funds are used to purchase support services for clients — everything from art therapy and bus fare, to in-home support and respite care.

"The key is knowing you have to ask for help," Brian concluded.