Autism and old people

Saying goodbye with some anguish and melancholy.

I launched in my micro possibilities a campaign on various sites in favor of some form of assistance for old age aspies .      Many of them have never been diagnosed, many of them don’t even know of the origins of their suffering. If they are so called high functioning, they may have thought, before the revelation, that they were “normal” people even as they had to go through an enormous amount of effort, and a constant feeling that there was something wrong, some sort of self deception and falsity in what they did, in their job and family life, if they had one, which rarely happens. They are normally single and loners. Fatigue was not a help in their  perception of their efforts. In a sense old aspies are left to manage their own winter by themselves. Wisdom is nowadays not commodity requested by society.

 Dependence is an act of begging, which not many can rely on for their insularity. At a certain age they normally have no more families or relatives. “Friends”, or, better, acquaintances disappear. An old aspie cannot protect anybody, and cannot receive protection. Are severe autistics in better condition? Donna Williams maintains that they are less desperate. I don’t know.

A blind, a deaf mute, a limp receive some assistance, if anything by the social services. Aspies are invisible.

 

Parents
  • It’s not that I can’t survive economically. I am a retired teacher and I have means enough to eat and live in a comfortable  flat. An immigrant woman  comes three hours to clean and order. I have a little dog which I can feed and walk around. I have a large library and can buy new books when I want. But the story finishes here. To ask for a medical problem to a doctor is an ordeal. Any form of request (a taxi, to buy a pair of trousers, to ask for a plumber, a rough exchange with a passerby) is a trials which leaves me days to recover. No friends, no satisfactory interaction. A longing for love and for a possible affectionate protection in need. Waiting for the end with the desire that I pass without anybody around, like in “Malone dies” or “Wit” because any acquaintance putting up a conventional, fake act of compassion would only disturb me.

    I am 78 and I am reading Kafka.

Reply
  • It’s not that I can’t survive economically. I am a retired teacher and I have means enough to eat and live in a comfortable  flat. An immigrant woman  comes three hours to clean and order. I have a little dog which I can feed and walk around. I have a large library and can buy new books when I want. But the story finishes here. To ask for a medical problem to a doctor is an ordeal. Any form of request (a taxi, to buy a pair of trousers, to ask for a plumber, a rough exchange with a passerby) is a trials which leaves me days to recover. No friends, no satisfactory interaction. A longing for love and for a possible affectionate protection in need. Waiting for the end with the desire that I pass without anybody around, like in “Malone dies” or “Wit” because any acquaintance putting up a conventional, fake act of compassion would only disturb me.

    I am 78 and I am reading Kafka.

Children
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