One More Time

Ok, wait, how could I possibly write a post on activities Coleman enjoys and not include skiing???   I apologize in advance to my FB friends who are reading, as I was in serious overkill mode all winter posting about Coleman’s unbelievable turnaround.  But for the benefit of you who only come here annually to check up on my guy, you simply must know about skiing.

 

We ski with a program run at Loon Mountain under New England Disabled Sports (NEDS). Volunteers staff this program and coaches are both adults and teens (in the highly coveted ‘PACs’ roles – Pre-adaptive Coaches).  I think this marks our fourth year skiing, with colossal fails the first few years.  Then we smartened up a bit, and chose to work on desensitizing him before we even got to the mountain.  You might recall our photos of standing in the playroom with ski boots on, and Coleman with his timer.  Waiting for 2 minutes to pass.  And then the same thing with helmet, mittens, ski pants, and so on until finally, near the end of February, my guy was ready to head out.  It was an ok season – he did make it out a couple of times and while I wouldn’t say he liked it, he didn’t hate it, so that was a win in our books.

This year we were hopeful that he would get better, start to enjoy it a bit more.  He certainly started out of the gate happier, thanks to that anti-inflammatory he is on. No issues with any of the clothes at all, and the helmet and boots all went on easily.  Things went so smoothly that I even tried to get the goggles on him, but that was big No, so I kept my winnings and moved along.  Dare I say he seemed excited to be there?  And when he was all dressed and ready to go, he was pleasant to his new coach Alan and off they went without so much as a hint of rebellion. 

Weeks went by and all was still going smoothly but it seemed Coleman just could not grasp the concept of slowing himself.  The coaches held his hands, leading him, but he was heavily dependent on them.  That day, less than a month into the season, I watched him from the bottom of the hill he was on.  Billy skied over and watched too.  After a few minutes, Billy and I went up on the chairlift for a quick ski on our own.  On the chair, I said “I don’t think Coleman is ever going to get this.  He just doesn’t understand how to stop or slow down, and I don’t think he ever will.  I don’t want to keep leaving him with the coaches – the whole point was so that we could ski together.  I want to stop.  Let’s just use the harness and take him ourselves.”  I was so sad and disappointed after all the effort we and Coleman had put in, but it didn’t seem fair to keep making him try.  Billy agreed and so we decided that afternoon would be the end.  We skied down together feeling pretty disheartened, and went back over to the hill where Coleman was to take him from the coach.  Except that as I scanned the hill looking for him, I couldn’t find him.  “Do you see him?” I asked Billy, still looking.  And then I saw him.  He was a tiny black image skiing about 5 feet behind his coach.  He was following him closely, and turning when the coach turned, but he was doing it without holding hands.  I could not believe my eyes.  ‘Oh My God!!! He’s doing it!!” I screamed, undoubtedly too loud.  It was just unbelievable.  I know my mother had a part in this, hearing us talking, she was probably all  “oh you want to stop do you?  We’ll see about that” and she did her angel magic thing and BAM! Coleman was skiing. 

So we didn’t end it there obviously.  We kept Coleman in lessons all season, and he started to really love it.  He got better and better and eventually made it to the chairlift.  Note to autism moms:  make sure you prep your kiddos about what a chairlift is and how it works. We didn’t and when his coaches decided one day he was ready for it, up they went, and as luck would have it, the lift stopped for a few minutes as it sometimes does.  Only Coleman had no idea what the hell that meant, and was suddenly scared to death, and started to flip out, trying to pull the bar up, flailing about. Holy S**t, folks, I nearly died watching him from one chair behind.  Thank God for the calm, level-headed coach that held onto him for dear life.  When we finally got to the top, we the adults were all pretty shaken, but Coleman was perfectly fine.  I think he was like “Ohhhhh it takes us to the top.  I get it now.”  J   Later that night, I showed him videos of what the chairlift was, and we talked about it, and it was easy-peasy after that. 

A lot of friends ask me what I think made this year different for Coleman.  I say it was two things:

1.      The anti-inflammatory.  He is simply so much happier and more relaxed since he has been on it.

2.      The coach.  This year at NEDS, Coleman was paired a guy named Alan.  I’d tell you his last name
but then I’d have to kill you to be sure you wouldn’t go steal him away from us.  J  He was a great match for Coleman, in both his demeanor and his approach.  He was gentle and kind, and effective.  Overall, a really, really wonderful person.  Coleman loved him.   And it also helped that we had him fairly consistently.  In past years at NEDS, we would get a different coach each week which is really hard with a kid like Coleman who needs consistency in pretty much everything.  So getting Alan was a win.  Getting him every weekend was a coup. 

By the end of the season, we were starting to see that Coleman actually enjoyed skiing, that he didn’t want to leave.  When normally we would have comforted him with “One more night and then we can go home”, we were now saying “I’m sorry but we have to go home!”   On our last weekend up there, it became pretty clear that we had another true skier in the family.  It was freezing (one of the only really cold days all season), with temps in the single digits and the wind-chill below zero.  We tried to tell him it was too cold to go, but he insisted. “Just ski” he pleaded.  We finally decided we would take him for one run and he’d see how cold it was and want to leave.  So we did that, and after that ridiculously cold run, shivering, we said to him, “We can be all done now!”  Coleman just looked ahead and said “One more time.”