At Katie’s place, we shared all of the food including purchases with my food stamps.  That worked out very well with my diet since the household was into health food.  Their interest in the more natural foods was influenced by attendants who were students at the John Bastyr College of Naturopathic Medicine.  Katie’s son was put on an all-natural wholesome foods diet that excluded all additives with artificial colorings, flavorings, and preservatives to control some of his emotions and behavior.  As the result over time, he became calmer and slimmer.  But, by no means was his autism cured since that was neurologically based rather than metabolically based.

To shop for a wide variety of unprocessed, wholesome foods we all went to the largest food co-op in the Seattle area, the Puget Consumers Co-op, which had several stores.  It was from there that I was introduced to different grains such as millet, basmati rice, and bulgur wheat (cracked).  The weekday attendant, who was mostly vegetarian with occasional consumption of fish, prepared good grain dishes for everyone, such as millet/bulgur wheat combo flavored with Dr. Brennon’s vegetarian sauce that tasted almost like Worchester sauce.  I loved all of these new things, especially since they are part of a healthy diet.

Based upon the influence I received from reading a few books on nutrition that promoted the beneficial effects on health from consuming raw foods that contains healthful enzymes that help aid digestion, I began to prepare and eat more salads with raw vegetables with every meal that I fixed myself.  All enzymes are destroyed in cooking, since they don’t survive in temperatures over 112 degrees F.  Whenever I picked up groceries, I bought as many varieties of vegetables that were in season as possible, and I ate large servings of them daily.  Though I wasn’t in perfect vibrant health yet, I noticed slight improvements in digestion and my moods.

Since I was on my own and like many other young adults, I was invited to many more parties than when I lived with my parents.  For example, a few times during the year, Laura invited me to parties at places where she lived with her good friend from New Jersey and a few other housemates in cooperative living arrangements.  Even though I enjoyed meeting the people I spent most of the time nibbling on the food.  I hardly talked to anyone.  Even with the thick haze from the marijuana smoke that I was sensitive to, I enjoyed the stimulation of being with a crowd of festive folks and around plenty of delicious food to stuff myself with.

One morning in downtown Seattle as I was walking down the hill to First Avenue to make my bus connection, I bumped into a parent whom I met at WANSAC meetings.  Bessie asked me if I found a room yet and if I would be interested in renting a room in her house which was in south White Center, nestled in the south end in between West Seattle and Burien close to the Puget Sound.  She drove me to her place to show me and I took the offer, because it was in a nice area, away from the big city, yet there was sufficient enough bus service.  For weekend and evening use, I had to walk a little bit to a bus.  I missed the more open spaces and the less density that were further away from Seattle.  I didn’t feel quite ready for the big city living yet.  From what I had learned in my prior experience, I had informed Katie sufficient time well in advance of the move, at least a week.

Whenever I went to Seattle on weekday mornings I took a commuter bus that I caught two blocks from the house.  During off-peak hours I had to take buses that required more walking, twelve blocks east or fifteen blocks southwest in West Seattle.  When I had been living there eight months, a bus was added to provide more regular service on off-peak hours that I caught two blocks away like the commuter run.

Bessie had two daughters.  The older daughter graduated from high school in June of 1981 shortly after I moved in, appeared to be without a disability.  She lived on her own close to her mother’s place.  The younger daughter, who was almost thirteen and fathered by a poor man in a small trailer, was very smart with health issues.   Bessie met her third husband, whom she bought the house with, and fostered his older daughter.  It worked out very well that I lived with them since they were able to put up with my differences and challenges. 

Even though I was contented about to stay with Bessie and Louis, I visited a few group homes for those with disabilities to see what they looked like.  I went to the Liberty House during their open house, where the secretary of WPAS and my acquaintance with juvenile diabetes lived with a few other adults.  It was located in Ballard, Scandinavian neighborhood in Seattle.  Besides viewing the rooms, I loved having the refreshments.

When there was an opening at another group home for about six adults located in the Twin Lakes area of Federal Way, a community close to the sound about twenty-five miles south of Seattle, I was driven there to take a look at it.  That house was too far out of the way for regular bus service on the weekend and evenings for me to even consider.

I felt like that I was becoming popular with WANSAC, because two other sets of parents invited me to dinner at their homes so they could become more acquainted with me.  While I was at the open house at the Liberty House, a couple from the autism society who had an adult son with autism and lived in West Seattle drove me home, since I wasn’t too much out of the way.  During the spur of the moment, we stopped in their place that sat on a steep hill overlooking the sound, for dinner before they drove me home.

Another mother from WANSAC, who lived in North Seattle and had a thirty-four-year-old son with autism and an adult daughter who lived with her, invited me for dinner that also ended up as an overnight stay with breakfast.  We had such a great time that time seemed to have swept away without our realizing, and it got too late for me to go home by bus and they didn’t want to drive at night.  It was very enriching to visit and get to know the parents and learn from their experiences while I practice my social skills.  This was very important.

I was provided with additional opportunities to sharpen my socialization, during July of 1981 when I attended the International Symposium on Autism sponsored by the National Society of Autistic Children (NSAC) that was held in Boston, Massachusetts.  I figured that I might as well go to the conference to educate myself more and visit my folks since they were both on the east coast.  I went across the country from Seattle to Boston by bus, so I could see more of the nation.  It took four and a half days.  The main drawback was that I had estimated that the trip would be one day less since that was how long it had taken from Washington, D.C. to Seattle.  So I arrived in Boston a day late and missed the first day of the symposium.  Luckily the most interesting topics were on the other days.  When I arrived during the morning peak hour commute I took the subway to the hotel where the conference was.  I didn’t have the money for the taxi fare.

I showed up just in time for the start of the second day.  I was most interested in the neurobiological findings and research.  It was a good year for me to attend, since that was when scientists and doctors from around the world came up with more recent discoveries in psychobiology and medicine.

On the other hand, I wasn’t too tuned into applications theories for home and school, since I wasn’t a parent and didn’t plan to become a professional.  I lacked any confidence of ever being able to work with people directly.  During the presentations that least interested me, I had an even greater tendency to tune out and get into my daydreams, though I had difficulty of attending to any talks including the favorite one for long periods.

I met my sister Gail at the conference who also attended.  We commuted back and forth by train and stayed with her good friend from high school, Eleanor who lived in the Boston area with her husband.  This saved a lot of money on hotel stays, besides it was much more fun to stay with friends.  Eleanor was so excited that my speech showed a great deal of improvement that she called her mother in New York and had me say hello to her.  Since they hadn’t seen me for fourteen years they noticed the changes in me though I still had much to work on my speech which still was diffluent.  It felt good to be complimented on my achievements.

At the conference, a woman at the registration desk called me over to introduce me to a woman who was interested in meeting someone with a personal experience of autism.  Jean L. was eager to see and hear me to learn from my perspective of the disorder, especially since none of the presentations included any first-hand accounts of autism.  During the early eighties we still only knew a little about the puzzling disability and assumed that individuals with autism weren’t capable of giving speeches in front of a large audience.  Jean took me out to lunch to become more acquainted with me.

She was so impressed with what I had overcome with my disability, compared to what she already knew about the disorder that she wanted to hire me as a camp counselor for a few weeks later in that summer at a summer camp for children with autism.  The camp was directed by her, near where she lived in Rochester, New York.  This seemed like it would be a good experience for me to work with the kids and visits parts of the state I never had been.

The major catch was that, since I was receiving public assistance based on not being able to work, my aid could be jeopardized if I took a job and the state found out that I indeed was able to work.  Since the position was only temporary I didn’t want to take any chances of losing my benefits and not be able to get them again.  Though I couldn’t accept the job offer, it was encouraging that there was someone who respected and wanted to hire me.  This gave me a greater hope that I would be employable by somebody.  During our good-byes, Jean and I exchanged addresses and became pen pals for a while.

From Boston I was lucky to get a ride to Pennsylvania to visit my father by a friendly woman who lived in Delaware and had a son with autism.  I met her through Gail.  We left on a Saturday morning while the autism conference was continuing for its last day.  That didn’t matter to me as I had received as much as I wanted.  It was an all day drive from Massachusetts to Delaware where the driver lived.  We stopped at Irene’s house since she was too tired to continue further to my father’s place.  It was fun to spend the night at her house and meet her family and explore her neighborhood early in the morning before she drove me to Pennsylvania.  It felt good to share my experience with autism with people whom I met at the conference for them to learn.

While I had spent a little time with my father after the conference as an adult, I had become more aware of his challenges related to autism.  Besides his socially unaccepted habits of poor table manners and nose picking that I was aware of since my childhood, I had with a greater maturity discern the difficulty my father had in establishing and maintaining relationships.

Though he had dated several women, he wasn’t able to develop the seriousness that is necessary for getting remarried.  He tended to have poor conversational skills especially on topics that interested others and not him.  But, when the conversation was about his interests, he tended to talk excessively with too many details.  I also had the tendency to talk about unnecessary details and not enough on what interest others.  We both tended to interrupt others and not to give them a chance to finish talking.  With my increased knowledge and maturity, I had gained a greater appreciation of him.

From my father’s place I took a train from Philadelphia to Washington, D.C.  I realized that since I had been on my own for six months, it had become easier for me to relate to my family members on an adult level.  Since I engage in more activities and was out in the world rather than just staying home when not in school in an isolated existence, I had more things to talk about to my folks as I became more mature.  I still wasn’t very outgoing.

Shortly after I arrived back to Seattle, I had a series of tests done on me by the University Hospital affiliated with the University of Washington, which examined my brain and the rest of my body.  I took an intelligence test in which I did well in most areas and got the highest possible score in the visual area that involved rotating complex images in my head and being able to tell them apart.  But I had a greater difficulty with the verbal section where I needed a lot of time to think things thoroughly.

I had had another EEG done after years earlier during my early teens to see if my spaciness would show up as a petit mal seizure.  Again the results were normal.  I had thought that maybe when I spaced or tuned myself out and missed of what was said to me, that my brain went blank for a split second without realizing it as in a petit mal or minor seizure.  I knew that a high percentage of the autism population do have seizures.  Apparently what I had was lapse of paying attention that didn’t show up in electrical activity.  I received a scan of my brain through a machine that detected oxygen levels.  The results basically came out normal with slightly lower than average activity in the temporal lobe in the left side of my brain which is implicated in language including auditory processing.  I also had a recall of information test that I passed.  I was asked to retrieve a word or phrase from a half hour earlier.

I was given a complete physical with blood tests.  I asked the doctor to include glucose and uric acids levels to see where I stood on them, though the blood readings weren’t the most accurate form of assessment.  Since blood testing was the most convenient and was covered by my medical coupons, I went along with the tests.  I was most interested in those chemicals with my knowledge of how hypoglycemia and high uric acid levels could affect the brain and behavior.  The blood glucose count was a little bit on the low side and the blood uric acid was a little bit on the high side.   But, both factors were within the normal ranges.

In addition, I had allergy testing done with the skin scratch test out of curiosity of what all of the specific things that might cause a reaction.  During the pollen and mold seasons and when exposed to dusty areas and to tobacco smoke I felt congestion in my throat and sinuses.  But, fortunately what I had was very mild compared to severe reactions that were characteristic of classical hay fever.  I was tested for all sorts of air borne substances and foods which all came out negative.  The results suggested that I didn’t have true allergies.  Later on, I read that environmental sensitivity could be induced by nerves that mimic allergies.  But it could differ from them that involve the antigen-antibody complex.

During the autumn of 1981, I was enrolled in the Rehabilitative Medicine Program affiliated with the University of Washington that set up several job stations throughout the campus for individuals with disabilities to access their employment skills.  My placements were based on the inventory of my interests and skills.  I was assigned to two job stations, medical graphics and a library in the department of nursing.

For twelve weeks, I was placed in the medical illustrations unit in the health sciences making charts and grafts with rulers and typesetting.  Toward the end of my training I drew a few medical illustrations as tracings over previously done works, though I was capable of doing my own.  Since the program was considered training, I worked without pay a few hours in the mornings Monday through Friday.  I worked in a tiny room with my supervisor who was an older man nearing retirement.  He was very friendly and always complimented me in my work and invited me to the holiday party for the staff in the graphics department.  He even gave me a holiday gift that was a few fossils that he had collected.  I enjoyed the job very much and hoped that some day when there would be a job opening in the department that I would be hired there.

  During four weeks of my program, I was placed in a small library in the department of nursing to assist the librarian with several tasks such as filing and typing index cards.  After I had lunch I worked in the library in the afternoons.  I was assigned there since I had good organizational skills and a good memory for data that was very useful for this type of job.  I was at that workstation for a few weeks until they ran out of work for me to do.  That job was okay since my tasks were varied and the librarian and her aide were friendly women.  I enjoyed doing work in the graphics much more.  I didn’t mind the end of the job since I became free in the afternoons to do other things such as using the health sciences library and shopping.

When the program with the Department of Rehabilitative Medicine ended, I went to the Health Sciences Library all day, five days a week throughout the winter and most of spring of 1982.  I wanted to study as much scientific information on the brain as possible in hope of finding a cure for all of my autistic characteristics and for greater vitality in overall perfect health.  I read books and periodicals on medical and metabolic studies on the nervous system.  Whenever I finished a chapter or an article I took notes to help me retain the information longer though I hardly was able to retain anything for long.  I took a commuter bus, two blocks from my place to down town to make the connection to the university to arrive around nine o’clock in the morning.  I packed my own lunch and stayed in the library until three o’clock in the afternoon.  Often shortly after lunch I got so tired from trying to absorb so much information that I dozed off in a chair.

By the end of the day I hardly remember anything that I read due to sensory overload.  I had difficulty in keeping things straight since I was trying to deal with too much at once.  After a few months I analyzed how much information I had learned.  It wasn’t very much and I realized that I had spent too much time in the library and it wasn’t worth it.  Thereafter, I cut back on the number of days I went and limited myself to a few hours at a time.  I went to the library only when I was in the area for other things; job interviews, evening activities, and shopping at the Puget Consumers Co-op.

Even with frequent reviewing I tended to forget everything by the next day, especially since I couldn’t apply any of the facts though I was still hopeful that I would be employed in the biology field and work in a medical laboratory.  I applied for a few openings in entry positions in laboratory technology.  I thought that my course work in biology from University of Maryland would provide me enough of a background to get me a job.  I didn’t have any luck of getting hired. I wasn’t even called for an interview.

Even when I was discouraged of being turned down on job prospects, I always had had artistic talent to fall back on for my personal pursuits.  I was notified about an opportunity to show and sell my artwork.  One week in September of 1981, Monday through Friday, the Children’s Orthopedic Hospital of Seattle offered space in the lobby for people with disabilities to display their artwork.  I was able to participate since I was eligible and was provided with transportation.  I brought about a hundred prints from my college days and a few watercolors and paintings.  I was very elated that people in the lobby during their lunch hour were impressed with my drawings and purchased around thirty of them.

Joann, a young married woman who lived near me and drove me to the hospital, helped me to man the table.  She did volunteer work for the Autism Society.   She and her husband lived about two miles from me in White Center.  Since she loved my drawings and didn’t have much money she negotiated some bartering deals with me.  I traded a few of my matted prints for old things, such as clothing and camping gear.  I walked to her place a few times for our transactions.  She drove me home so I wouldn’t need to carry the things back.  I was thrilled to receive some sweatshirts, ski mittens, a mess-kit, and a day back pack without putting out any cash.  It was a lot easier to part with my artwork than money.  It was more difficult to earn a paycheck than to produce art.  Even though I didn’t need the clothes I didn’t want to pass up any opportunity to barter that didn’t happen often.

One day I responded to the ad from the Seattle Aquarium that needed volunteers and attended their orientation.  They wanted people to be guides for visitors, to prepare feedings for the water animals, and to do other miscellaneous things.  Since I had loved animals and biology I felt that being a volunteer for the aquarium where there was plenty of life to view and study might help me get my foot in the door for possible future job openings or open doors to other places with fields in biology.

Following the general meeting, each respondent was interviewed to access interests and abilities.  Because I lacked confidence in working well with people and had a speech impediment that was still painfully obvious I was assigned to a task behind the scenes organizing newspaper and magazine articles about the aquarium beginning with the planning and design drawings for construction through the dedication of its completion and its success.  It was still relatively new and had existed for only a few years.  As I organized the newspaper clippings into their chronological order I read them to learn the history of its inception and development that was what made the job as a journal aide enjoyable.  I did that for a few months during the spring of 1982 for a few days a week until everything was in order and my move.

Since I had such a difficult time in finding employment in anything in the scientific fields I switched my focus from science to human services.  People and employment agencies informed me that one of the greatest needs was in the chore services for those with disabilities as the turnover rate of workers tended to be relatively high.  Since I had dealt with a disability on a personal level I had an advantage in the field.  But, I was at a disadvantage of being without a car when the employer would need me to drive him or her.

I hooked up with an agency that specialized in services for those with challenges, the Resources for the Handicapped, based in Bothell, a community on the northern shore of Lake Washington.  Through that agency I was sent to a few job interviews for live-in attendant care for people with various physical disabilities.  I was turned down because they needed someone with a car and who could drive.

Finally in end of April of 1982, I got a job since seeking employment unsuccessfully for over a year.  I was hired to provide live-in chore services for an eighty-five-year-old woman who was hard of hearing.  Elva had broken her arm from a fall due to her unsteady gait and needed around the clock help.  She lived in an old one-bedroom house on a main road in Woodinville, a sprawling community that was about thirty miles northeast of Seattle.  I was interviewed by her daughter, Elma, who lived only about two miles away and helped out by running errands–taking the laundry and doing it at her house, shopping for groceries, and driving Elva to doctor appointments. 

Since Elma was available to do things that required use of a car, I was hired.  Without a bedroom, this live-in attendant position would be considered undesirable by most people who demanded having their own private space.  Another aspect that was less than desirable was that the bathroom, old fashioned with an old tub without a shower, was added on to the house with a door to the outside rather than to the inside.

Since Elva was practically deaf, even with wearing a hearing aide, she had difficulty in understanding me.  So, I devised some basic sign language to use in conjunction with talking.  For example, I counted my fingers and then pointed to the clock to tell her what time it was or when I would be back from a morning walk.  Sometimes I had a hard time in understanding her because of her pitch and quality of voice.  Occasionally, it was frustrating when we had difficulty in communicating to each other, but somehow we eventually managed to get the message across eventually.

I helped her with her hygiene needs including bathing and toileting.  I assisted her in getting up from a chair since that was difficult for her.  I cleaned her house.  I prepared meals and snacks for her that suited her standard American tastes and soft enough for her to chew with dentures.  For myself I prepared whole grains, beans, and salads.

Since I didn’t have my own room I slept on the davenport.  Whenever Elva needed to get up to use the bathroom, I helped her out of bed and supported her as she walked out the side door of the house and into the bathroom from outside.  She was prone to diarrhea.  Sometimes it was so uncontrollable that she didn’t make it to the bathroom.  One night when she had an accident on the bed that was very messy, I cleaned everything and put on fresh sheets even though I was tired and needed to go to Seattle the next morning.  Thereafter, I placed a bucket aside her bed to help prevent more accidents.

Even though I never complained about the unglamorous aspects of my job, it was quite an adjustment for me to make from giving up the freedom I had in coming and going as pleased.  I was nervous about it until I realized how temporary my job was and appreciated the benefits more, such as making my own money and staying in a nice area which was across the street from Cottage Lake.  Since I was committed to her, except for my planned time off, I wasn’t able to just take off for the day unless I arranged for Elma to come and help.  But, I was allowed to go out for walks in the morning for an hour or so after I helped her go to the bathroom.  She had no problem to remain seated watching TV while I was out and wouldn’t need assistance.

I jogged all over the area where there were many new developments with large homes on several-acre plots and a lot of new construction as Woodinville was growing very rapidly.  I enjoyed exploring the area.  I was grateful to be in such a nice neighborhood especially since I was confined with Elva most of the time.  It didn’t matter that bus service was limited since most of the time I couldn’t leave the area anyway.  There was a commuter bus that ran by the house and went to Seattle.  That was sufficient for going to Seattle and the Eastside on my days off for job interviews, recreational activities, and visiting Bob, Jean and her girls.  One Saturday when I went to my friend Laura’s good-bye party I had to walk four miles south to catch the nearest bus.

After Elva had her cast removed from her arm, she regained some of her independence.  She was able to get up from the chair and toilet herself.  Since I realized that she wouldn’t need me as much anymore and my job was about to end, I became more serious about finding a place to live and a job.  It felt nice that I was able to be out all morning for a long walk for miles when I didn’t need to worry about being back in time to assist her to the bathroom.  Working in chore services was a good learning experience in that it enabled me to develop better people skills and a greater sense of responsibility to broaden my horizons.  I felt that I learned so much during the six weeks in that job.