Contains adult themes and material that some people may find offensive.
Date: Sunday 1st March 2020
Location: Liverpool, Merseyside
Specifically: Bits of Liverpool of interest to people from up North who have never been to Liverpool.
10.30 a.m Rise n shine!
It frequently takes me ages to crawl out of bed and perform my morning calisthenics in preparation for (what remains of) the day ahead. Fortunately today is not one of those days because, within seconds of getting dressed, there is a knock at the door. “Oo is it!?” I shout - fully expecting Kat to be outside telling me to get a shift on.
This time, however, it is not Kat who is without but Kat‘s mother (that is never going to sound right in a sentence). Chris tells me that Kat, ‘her ladyship’, woke this morning feeling ‘somewhat stressed’ and went for a long walk. She’s feeling OK after a bit of a (Kat!) nap, but wants to catch the 12.30 p.m train to Liverpool (It’s currently 12.00 p.m) better get cracking if we‘re to have any kind of quality day out.
We set off for the railway station but it‘s clear that Kat is not feeling her best. She has, what I call ‘ruffled feathers’ - her brows are furrowed, she seems on the verge of tears (but doing a great job of holding it together) and her speech is starting to sound slurred.
It’s hardly surprising; Kat wakes almost every morning in the midst of a panic attack - a feeling of sudden and intense anxiety. If you’ve never experienced one of these I hope you never do because they can be terrifying, symptoms include, irregular heartbeat, disorientation, dry mouth, nausea, sweating and dizziness. I once overheard someone write these off as nonsense, ‘women's troubles’ ’all in the mind’ ‘making it up’ ‘over-dramatising. Whoever you are (or were) you’re an idiot.
It’s about to get worse
We arrive at the railway station and queue for our tickets. Kat is rummaging through her (very large) bag and her purse. ”I can’t find my rail card” she exclaims. Her searching becomes more frantic as the queue to the ticket office gets shorter and the one behind lengthens. She searches in one compartment of her purse rapidly followed by another and another.
I’m aware that the distance from West Kirby to Liverpool Lime Street is a little over ten miles, a journey of about 30 minutes or so. Tickets aren’t going to be expensive. I would imagine many people would just think ‘ bollox to it, I’ll sort it out later‘ But in that moment of deep anxiety finding that rail card seems as vital as rescuing someone from a burning building before it collapses. And so Kat continues her search...
In desperation she begins to go through her holdall, did she put it in there somewhere, a zipped section during a moment of panic, a pouch at the front? one of the numerous pockets that these stupid things tend to have which are great during periods of lucidity and a damned bloody nuisance when you can’t find something and suffer from anxiety.
People are looking, raising eyebrows, murmuring, muttering there are only a handful of people in front of us now. The train for Liverpool leaves in under five minutes. They have no concern for the girl in front of them; from the looks on their faces she’s just another air-head a nebulous, disorganised nitwit who’s on the verge of spoiling their day.
A moment of lucidity, she may have left her rail card at home. She dials Chris from her mobile, Chris goes off to check then returns to the phone. She’s found it. By this time I’ve bought the tickets the relief obvious on the faces of the others in the queue who have been spared further distress and anguish, God forbid they might have had to wait an extra few minutes for a train.
On the train Kat is visibly a little more relaxed, it’s quiet, not many people on board. We find a seat opposite each other and start chatting - 'the impact of low self-esteem on relationships'.
I should pause briefly and take a moment to overstate the obvious; that it‘s not cool to make fun of disability - “it’s wicked to mock the afflicted” and all that. But there are times in the way certain features of autism manifest in Kat that are, quite frankly, hilarious. I’ve mentioned the way she will attack me with dinosaurs (of the plastic variety that is - just in case you think we’d happened upon some sort of Jurrasic park on a remote section of West Kirby), threaten me with caged surreal figures in HMV and pounce on me out of nowhere when I least expect it. Today I am in for a new experience - discussing taboo subjects in front of the subjects
A young woman sits down next to Kat who immediately gives her a suspicious sideways glance, sniffs the air, looks back at me and tells me that the woman smells. She then commences talking about people who smell while I listen in from my new place hiding in the luggage rack. She tells me that all humans have a distinctive smell and how this is particularly noticeable in certain places - trains for example.
After the ‘pongy people’ conversation had run its course Kat moves on to ‘the impact of low self-esteem on intimate relationships’. She tells me of a girl who would do anything to keep her boyfriend happy for fear of losing him. On one occasion this involved shaving her pubic hair into a heart shape and died it green because her boyfriend asked her to do it. Apparently she was always styling her pubes in different shapes and dying them different colours. Apparently she went further and regularly showed of her handiwork to members of the male persuasion.
All the while Kat is talking she looks relaxed; she might as well be discussing the weather, a movie or her latest reading material. I, meanwhile, am wondering if I could possibly fit inside one of the suitcases in the luggage rack.
The train is starting to fill up, every seat is taken, people are standing by the exits and in the aisles. I become to get a little concerned - autistic people can frequently become very anxious when they are overwhelmed by external stimuli and I worry that all this is too much. Kat tells me that she would never usually travel on trains at weekends. “You're making an exception for me?“I ask, “yes“ she says. I say nothing, conscious that she’s already had enough trauma for one day, but I’ve asked her not to make exeptions for me because I would feel responsible if it made her worse.
As we get off the train at Liverpool Kat tells me she need to eat. Shit!!! Chris asked me to remind her that she needs to eat something between around 12.00 p.m - 1.00 p.m it’s now well after that. To think Chris trusts me because I’m a sensible human being who can be trusted to support her daughter.
Yes, I know what you're thinking; food, easy, just nip into one of the multitude of food shops or cafes, everyones gotta eat right? But with Kat and others on the autistic spectrum the relationship between them and food is much more complicated......
”For instance, many children and adults on the spectrum are extremely sensitive to not just flavor, but also the color, smell and texture of foods. Many also have strong preferences for a narrow selection of foods. Some even feel compelled to have certain foods in the same place on the plate or to use the same plate at each meal.” (Autism Speaks, 5th Sept 2018),
In Kats case there are foods she is OK with and ones that she isn't. If she can’t find the ones she likes she often just gives up and goes home. The food issue is further complicated by her having low blood sugar. If she doesn't get something soon she could go into hyperglycaemic shock.
Kat knows exactly where to go for food, except that now theres another problem, the shop she needs to get to is inaccessible; surrounded by a police cordon. Obviously some sort of major crime has been commited but we’ve no idea what. All we know is that Kat’s situation is now getting desperate.
Fortunately she finds a place that sells food that she can eat.
Now she has to find somewhere to eat it - somewhere away from the cold, where she can sit down and where she can take food purchased from elsewhere. I suggest the library. Eventually she agrees, though she’s hesitant, theres a woman in there whom she really dislikes. Again this is another situation that many people wouldn't worry to much about but it’s clearly filling Kat with anxiety. I suggest that, given the urgency of getting food into her, now is not the time to be picky; she decides she can deal with Mrs ‘Unpleasant’ and we head for the library.
I’m starting to become concerned. Kat is now looking a little the worse for wear; we need to get her to the library quickly. I link my arm through hers just to let her know I’m there to support her, it’s a mistake. “That doesn’t help” Kat announces brusquely; and, feeling somewhat foolish, I remove my arm is if I’d burned it
After a 100 years we arrive at the library. Kat gets a drink, sits down and very soon begins to look more settled. I’m keen to find out a bit more about how autism affects her life.
I start with one of the classic features of autism; brutal honesty! I ask her if she’s aware of the saying ‘be careful what you wish for’. She responds in the affirmative so I proceed to tell her that I have always wanted to meet someone who was honest and direct. She laughs, she knows exactly what I mean. It’s become one of the things I love about her. Sometimes her direct approach catches me unexpectedly, its one of those moments where I’m glad I haven't taken a drink because otherwise everyone in the room would have had a share of it.
The saying reminds her of a play she once auditioned for; ‘Be careful what you wish for’. It was one of the winning entries in a drama competition to write and direct a one act play. Kat was not impressed with the winner. Some character with a big ego, who had been the recipient of much praise throughout his life - from her scathing tone I assume she considered much of this praise unwarranted.
Kat met this character when she attended an audition to act in one of the winning plays. A number of directors were interested in using her but she decided on Mr Massive ego. First impressions, after meeting him and reading his script was that she found the plot thin, the characters one sided and the story ludicrous. Conclusion; I pretty much rewrote his whole play the only thing left in were the characters; there was little left of the actually plot; “he was a talentless jerk and an idiot”.
I’m sure there are certain people who are thinking, “this Kat sounds a bit up herself - rewriting the guys play after he's offered her a part in it and criticising his writing talent. But speaking bluntly is a common feature of autism i.e difficulty in social situations through not being able to read the non-verbal signals most of us take for granted, the ones that help us understand what others might be thinking or feeling or what their next action might be.
I don't know it yet - but there's more to come!
MY TURN TO BE HONEST
While out walking with Kat recently I talk to her about a recent blood test my doctor had sent me for.
I had seen my doctor because my libido was at zero - no interest in sex at all. That didn't particularly bother me, I hadn't been in an intimate relationship for years and I wasn’t particularly interested in starting one now. What did concern me though was that I’d read online somewhere that, when arteries start to become blocked the one that is linked to the male erection, whatever and wherever that one is (though I suppose the latter isn’t difficult to guess!) is the first one to be affected. Is this what was happening to me? Was I at risk of heart disease, stroke or diabetes? I share this with Kat, interested in hearing her opinion. Kat finishes my sentence ”oh no that just leads to sexual dysfunction” (More visions of people being soaked in beer splutter!). The autistic are nothing if not straight talking.
For anyone who’s curious/nosy/intrigued etc the blood test results came back showing that my levels of testosterone were so low thay didn’t even register on the scale (whatever scale that might be - hopefully not a tape measure!) Next stop HRT?
to be continued....
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