Excerpt: 'The Autism Sourcebook'

Sept. 29, 2005 — -- At the age of 2, Jake Exkorn's parents were told their son had autism. But two years later, Jake had fully recovered from autism. His mother, Karen Siff Exkorn, credits an intensive form of therapy called Applied Behavior Analysis for the dramatic turnaround.

Almost immediately after diagnosis, Jake started 40 hours a week of grueling one-on-one therapy. ABA is expensive but called the "gold standard" of therapy for kids with autism. Still, only a small percentage of kids "recover" from an autism diagnosis, even with ABA therapy.

Based on her experience, Siff Exkorn has put together an exhaustive book on autism called, "The Autism Sourcebook: Everything You Need to Know About Diagnosis, Treatment, Coping, and Healing."

You can read an excerpt below.

For more information on autism, click here to visit www.autismspeaks.org.

At his second birthday party, we found our son, Jake, lying facedown in the driveway,his cheek pressed into the gravel. He did not look at us or talk to us. It was asif we -- his own mother and father -- were not there.

Two weeks later, Jake was diagnosed with autism.

In the first seventeen months of his life, Jake hit every developmental milestone:he crawled, he walked, and he talked. He was within the age-appropriateweight and height percentiles. By all accounts, he was a typical child. And then,over a six month period, Franklin and I watched as our once active and talkativetoddler gradually developed into a lethargic and silent little boy. It was as if, oneby one, all of the circuit breakers in his brain were clicking off.

Something was affecting Jake's overall development. His coordination wasoff. He couldn't keep his balance while running or going down the slide. His behaviorchanged. Jake no longer showed any interest in playing with otherchildren -- he hardly even played with his toys. Apart from turning light switcheson and off and opening and closing all the doors in the house, his favorite activitywas lying on the floor and staring. He also began to have full-blown, horrifictantrums that looked and sounded like nothing I'd ever seen -- complete withshrieking and sobbing that caused him to hyperventilate. But aside from thetantrums, Jake was quiet. And honestly, I think what disturbed us the most washis silence. Our house used to be filled with the sounds of his laughter and hisraspy, little voice. But the house became so much quieter as Jake's vocabularydwindled to only a few words. Then, shortly after his second birthday, Jakestopped speaking entirely.

Franklin and I were alarmed and confused. We tried talking more, filling inthe silence with empty chatter in the hopes of motivating Jake to start talkingagain. But nothing happened. Then we tried talking less, thinking that maybeJake needed more space to express himself. Still nothing. Jake stopped respondingin general, not even looking at us when we called out his name. The affectionateboy who freely gave us hugs and kisses was gone. Now, Jake's whole body stiffenedwhenever we tried to hug him. He could no longer tell us what he wanted -- noteven by pointing. Jake would shake his whole hand in the direction of the kitchencabinet to let us know that he was hungry. We'd end up pulling out box after boxof cookies, crackers, and snack foods to try to figure out what he wanted. Sometimeshis grunting indicated that we'd found the right snack. Other times hissobbing indicated that we hadn't, usually after we had emptied out the entirecabinet. We just couldn't figure out how to give our son what he wanted -- whether it was food or anything else.

"He's a boy. Boys develop later than girls," our family pediatrician repliedwhen I expressed our concerns. For each of Jake's symptoms, he had an explanation.Jake didn't speak because he was either shy or obstinate. He didn't play orbehave like other children because all children are different. "You should stop beingso competitive by comparing him to other children on the playground," hetold me. When I was concerned that Jake's tantrums bordered on hysterics, thepediatrician said, "Move the furniture so he won't get hurt." He repeatedly toldme not to worry, chalking up Jake's behaviors to the "terrible twos."

But I did worry. Something wasn't right with Jake. He was drifting furtherand further away from us.

For months, I listened with gnawing uncertainty to the pediatrician. Then,one day, I stopped listening. I was Jake's mother, after all, and I knew my own sonbetter than anyone -- including the doctor. That's when I started listening to whatmy instincts had been telling me for months. I took Jake to another doctor andanother one after that. When I finally got to the bottom of it, when I finally foundthe right doctor to tell me what was the matter with our son, I heard the wordsthat no parent wants to hear: "Your son has autism."

At that moment, I wished nothing more fervently than that our family pediatricianhad been right all along. ...

The Many Faces of Autism

His parents called Nathan their "gentle giant." At age six, he was big forhis age but wouldn't hurt a fly.He appeared to be shy and fearful at all socialactivities -- from playing with other kids to looking his mom and dadin the eye. Nathan's favorite activity was jumping on the trampoline all byhimself in his backyard. He seemed to live in a world of his own and hadnever uttered a word in his life.

At age four, Michael could tell you everything about the life cycle and migratorypatterns of the monarch butterfly. He'd even taught himself aboutphotosynthesis. Although clearly intellectually gifted, Michael could nothold a two-way conversation. Instead, he preferred to lecture nonstop abouta subject with which he was obsessed, such as butterflies or train schedules.