Category: Uncategorized

  • Ronda Rousey changes public perspective about disability

    Ronda Rousey changes public perspective about disability

    In the facebook group, Ronda Rousey: #knockoutapraxia, I love hearing from people who were inspired by Ronda, and recently, a member named Shawna posted that she wrote a school paper on the very subject.

    When I met Ronda and wrote my article, it was never about making her a spokesperson for CASANA (even though Ronda that would still be awesome if you are reading this).  It is the fact that parents, who experience many dark, lonely, and worrisome hours when their child is dx with a rare disability people don’t know much about, can see someone who made it out on the other side, and did so successfully.  That was my goal along with raising awareness.  The goal was HOPE and INSPIRATION.  Love this story.  Thanks Shawna for sharing!

    For this journal I chose an article about Ronda Rousey because she has apraxia of speech.

    Ronda is an example of changing public perspective about disability because she became famous before anyone ever learned of her condition.  My youngest son has apraxia of speech.  When he was younger I was obsessed with understanding his potential outcome.  He began intense speech therapy shortly before his second birthday.  By this, I mean I took him to three different therapists, four days a week for intense one-on-one sessions.  I wanted to know how it might help him because having your two year old committed to such a schedule can make you feel awful about forced learning.

    Ronda’s story is an example of how a person can overcome a tremendous amount of social anxiety and change how the public views disability.

    Within this article we learn how Ronda experienced anxiety related to public speaking and had her sister help her at speaking engagements early in her career.  To know that she was possibly affected, at birth, by deprivation of oxygen which led her to have this condition is paramount.  The general public tends to assume if someone sounds differently-abled then they must have a mental deficit.  To see Ronda achieving great things in life while dealing with a communication issue helps people understand disability has many different meanings.  Tragically, many people will excuse a disabilities importance if they can find a way to blame it on a factor such as environment or self infliction.  I do not agree with this perception, but having Ronda talk about how she was given this disorder by no other contributing factor than deprivation of oxygen, forces people to accept it.  The public views her as competent in all areas of life including her ability to speak. Therefore, she is educating the general public in a way they do not realize.

    She’s obviously beautiful and a lot of men would like to date her.  Some might shy away from her if they heard her struggling to speak.  They would be uneducated enough to assume she has mental disabilities.  She has presented herself as a strong, successful fighter and now we learn of her struggles to speak. 

    Before anyone knew her disability they knew only of her abilities. 

    I think this personal story of Ronda might encourage people to be more compassionate.  If you watch her interviews there are moments where you see her still struggling to find words.  I would never have the deep understanding of facing a communication disability if I did not witness it firsthand from someone I love with my whole heart.  In the article she talks about how her sister remains someone who speaks for her when she has moments where the words will not come out of her mouth.  In general, everyone has some minor symptoms of apraxia. Have you ever struggled to remember the name of an actor in your favorite movie?  You can see their face but you cannot recall their name?  Does it ever frustrate you so much you have to grab your phone to Google their name?  That is what it is like for someone with apraxia to even make sounds for speech.  For the public to realize someone as big and strong as Ronda faces adversity with something we all tend to take for granted, undoubtedly leads to understanding.

    The correlation between Ronda being an MMA fighter and the struggles of all children with apraxia of speech does NOT go unnoticed within the apraxia community I am deeply involved with. 

    For us, being able to show our children someone they can relate to, and show their success in every aspect of life, is difficult to express in words.  Apraxia is also something diagnosed in adult stroke victims-people who once had an ability to speak but now struggle with words to define things they know full well the meaning of.  These are people who fight to develop or regain skills we are normally given with ease.

    The analogy of her fighting and the fight of all people struggling to communicate does not go unnoticed.

    In closing, this is an issue I have a difficult time speaking about. Ironic, given the struggles of a population trying to learn how to communicate basic wants and needs.  When I first learned of Ronda’s diagnosis of apraxia I immediately looked for videos of her speaking.  I thought, “This is someone who is already a success in the eye of the public. To hear her speech and to know her struggle will encourage compassion because people will see she has all her other abilities.”  This is a big deal for the apraxia community.  Families of those struggling with apraxia feel like info-mercials. 

    |Some of us have been known to hand out pamphlets about our child’s condition just so that people will quit staring in public. 

    I have been known to give out little business cards with a brief description of my son’s condition.  Not only to get people to quit making him feel anxious, but to make people see that you never know the struggles of the person next you in line at the store.  Ronda is helping people to have empathy because she expresses her social anxiety.  She is a person who could knock someone out for making fun of her, yet she talks about shutting down and becoming overwhelmed with emotion when faced with communication struggles.  That is profound when thinking of others and their struggles.

  • Here’s How to Treat Childhood Apraxia of Speech

    Here’s How to Treat Childhood Apraxia of Speech

    Have you heard?  It’s #ApraxiaAwareness Day and #Apraxia is trending!

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    In honor of all of the festivities, Margaret D Fish, author of “Here’s How to Treat Apraxia of Speech” is offering a free copy of her book to one lucky winner!   Enter today and the winner will be announced next Saturday!

    *Note: This giveaway is now closed*

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    Enter below!  Good luck!

     

    a Rafflecopter giveaway

  • When your friend becomes your family, you help their children when they die.  Please help.

    When your friend becomes your family, you help their children when they die. Please help.

    One more follow up to my last story about my dear friend who has passed.  You can read about that here:

    Under the Influence.  Goodbye Sarah.  RIP

    Many highschool friends, most highschool friends, remain just that.  Friends you had in highschool. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, one of your highschool friends turns out to be a sister.  As it turned out, I was one of those lucky people.

    When the yearbooks were signed and the promises to stay in touch were made, my dear friend Sarah and I kept that promise to each other.  I’m sure many best friends talk about how they are family.  When you are young, I imagine we say this a lot, but then you grow older and you realize family is always there, but friends are fleeting.  They might have the best of intentions, but in the end, the people who are left in your corner are usually your family.

    Turns out, Sarah was not only a friend, but she was my family too.  Always in my life until her tragic end.  It goes without saying then, that the love I had for her, and the love she had for me indisputably spread to our children.  Children are an extension of their parent, and if you love the parent, you can’t help but love the child.  It just comes with the territory.

    I held Sarah’s first child at the hospital

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    Me and Clive

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    And she held mine

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    Sarah and Ashlynn

    Naturally they would be friends.  They couldn’t not be, we thought.

    I attended baptisms and birthdays

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    Jack’s baptism

     

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    Clive’s 1st birthday

     

    She attended my kids’ birthdays and baby showers

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    Ashlynn’s 3rd birthday
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    Ashlynn’s baby shower

    …and then we lived life.  Not as friends.  No way.  We’ve been through too much for that.  As family.  As sisters.

    Zoos

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    Ashlynn and Clive

    Halloween

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    Jace, Ashlynn, Jack, and Clive

    Pool days

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    Me and Ashlynn and Sarah and Jack

    I could go on.  I told another friend, how can I capture all those memories? How can I adequately convey what they all meant?

    All I know to do now is help her boys.  I love them, even if they never remember me.  To help them, is to continue Sarah’s memory.  Please help me help them.

    A fund has been set up.  Many of you have asked what you can do and this is it.

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    Oh my heart, look at them.  This is the last time they went to the zoo with their mother about a week before she died. Please help them.  They have been living in poverty.  They are with their father now, but he too makes so little money and doesn’t even have a car to get them to school.

    Please go here and donate.  Please.

    https://www.youcaring.com/clive-dall-jack-dall-507010

     

    Much love,

    Laura

     

     

  • Under the influence.  Goodbye Sarah.  I love you. RIP

    Under the influence. Goodbye Sarah. I love you. RIP

    A departure post from apraxia, but I would be remiss if I never publicly wrote about the death of one of my best friends.

    Today, January 20th 2016 I received this text:

    “She is dead!!!”

    What did you think when you read that?  Then you can’t even imagine what I thought.  That “she” is my best friend since I was 14.  I’m 35.  That means that “she” was a girl I have known for 21 years.  21 years…..longer than half my life and she’s NOT a family member.

    That “she” saved me.  I had come out of a sheltered 8 years of private Catholic school and public highschool ate me alive.  I ended up eating my lunch the entire first few months in the bathroom.

    Thankfully basketball came around.  I never did club, but I was “a natural” as my dad would say.  I easily made the team even though I showed up to try outs in Payless tennis shoes that caused me to slip and slide.  Sarah didn’t care. Who is Sarah? Oh yeah. Sarah is that “she.”   She was a freshman about 6 foot tall.  She had a different solution to ridicule than eating in the bathroom.  She attracted attention and drew laughs.  I have this vision, just like a movie scene, seeing her in the hallway of Littleton Highschool; and she was participating in Spirit Day in which the basketball team was to wear ties; and she put hers around her forehead!

    Being a 6 foot freshman girl was already drawing attention, but then she decided to slap her “spirit wear” around her forehead.

    To be frank, I admired her balls.  She was ballsy.  Where I was hiding, she was like, “bring it bitches!  I DARE you to make fun of me.”

    I’m not trying to knock public school, but I BREEZED through freshman year.  Apparently my Catholic 8th grade education was the equivalant to freshman honors in public school.  The only person who could challenge me was that 6 foot girl with the tie around her head.  I discovered she was brilliant.  Verbally gifted.  An unbelievable writer.  We challenged each other.  She was the ONLY one I trusted to proofread my writing, and she was the ONLY one who made my writing better.  Let’s face it though.  She was brilliant in general.  If it wasn’t for her, I would have failed chemistry.  She wasn’t just book smart though.  She was also artistic.

    She loved models.  She was an artist with a talent for drawing portraits.  In fact, she drew a black and white charcoal sketch of me once and at the time I was riddled with acne.  Of course a black and white sketch left all that out, and for once, I felt someone saw me as beautiful.  That someone was that “she.”  You know, the “she” that is dead.

    We went on to live life together.  Proms, boyfriends, teenage rebellions, vacations, road trips, heartbreaks, engagements, weddings, babies, careers……we would grow old together and we would laugh about our life.

    Only….Sarah fell into something I couldn’t help her with.  Stricken by mental illness, fueled by drug abuse, she pushed anyone trying to help her away.  The system?  Well, her sister Sharon put it best.

    A colossal failure.

    Sarah and I had a special connection.  Both Scorpios and intuitive by nature, we had a connection.  It’s not different than when you are thinking of someone and they call you, and then you say, “oh my gosh!  I was JUST thinking of you!!”

    Sarah and I had that all the time.  Well, if you know me though, you know I don’t believe in coincidences, and neither did Sarah….so when we were thinking of one another we knew to call.  We both knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

    Until the last two years.  She drifted further and further away.  I felt helpless.  I watched via social media as everyone else did….but I was still powerless.

    I found out she died today.  I don’t know when she actually passed at the time I am writing this, but I was in my car today. Alone.  I asked her to play a song for me.  Something we knew.  Something we sang.  Something I would remember her by.  We have MANY songs she could have picked from.

    I started scrolling through stations.  I was looking for some old school song.  Some song to reminisce.  Instead, I ended up at the start of a catchy song and I couldn’t change the channel.  As  I listened I cried.

    Well played Sarah.  I’ve never heard this song before…but you were speaking through it.  I understand now.  I love you friend.  You entered my life like a movie, and you leave like one too.  I learned you jumped off the parking garage at the Denver Center of Performing Arts.  Your final act.  I love you Sarah Elizabeth.  I will never forget you, how could I?  You are forever written into my life story and will always live on through my many memories.

    Just another morning
    With shaky hands, pounding head
    I guess I did it again
    Try to leave, but I can’t stand
    Start to think that I’m better off dead
    I’m sick of this condition
    Your kiss is my addiction
    I can tell you cast a spell that knows no moderation
    It’s dangerous, the things we do
    Under the influence, I got no defense
    It might be criminal, but still I just can’t quit
    Under the influence, I’ll take the consequence
    Well if it’s poisonous, let it take my last breath
    Under the influence
    Temptation, creeping up on me
    Gets under my skin, won’t let me be
    Haunt my days and haunt my sleep, viciously unrelenting
    Oh, lay down again
    Oh, give in again
    And oh, feel good again
    Begging for another beautiful sin
    It’s dangerous, the things we do

     

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGSC8a-eei4Under the Influence

     

     

     

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  • “Thank you” sounds so empty.

    “Thank you” sounds so empty.

    When I worked in Denver schools early on in my speech therapy career, I became numb to the phrase, “Thank you so much.  Thank you for everything.” The parents were soooo grateful for my help, and I didn’t understand.  It was my job.

    “You don’t have to thank me,” I would reply.  “Is there anything else I can do?  Any other goals you would like to be written?”

    The response was always the same.  “No, no?  Just thank you.  Thank you so much.”

    Early on in Ashlynn’s special education career, no one really seemed to know her.  Every time I went to school for a meeting, I always saw more at home than what they would report at school.  That is disheartening to be honest.  I know I’m a professional in an educational world, but that doesn’t mean I’m an expert in education.  I’m an expert in speech and language development.  I wanted the “experts” in education to report on my child and I saw more at home than what they said they did at school.

    I have spent soooo many posts waiting for a teacher who would believe in her.  Waiting for “professionals” to see what I see.  Today, before Christmas break, Ashlynn came home with this:

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    If you have followed me or my story, you know that Cody, Ashlynn’s dad, is a realist.  He might tear up at her IEP meetings, but overall, he’s pretty practical about our situation.  When I am distraught over test numbers and percentile ranks, he is the one to calmly remind me she always makes progress and never goes backward.

    Please direct your attention the above picture.  When I saw it, I had an internal cheer.  Okay, this is it!!  Finally!  The money we are dumping into Kindergarten Enrichment, OT, and Speech is paying off!!   Last year at this time she STILL couldn’t write her name after years of practice.

    I looked over and saw Cody choked up.  I paused and realized how huge this was.  I’m always looking at the next goal I never celebrate these moments.  I’m proud, I’m INCREDIBLY proud, and it hit me.  Ashlynn came home with something I didn’t know she could do.

    That has RARELY happened before, and it’s been happening more and more this year.

    There was a time I was sad at the thought it took a team of people,

    a TEAM of professionals

    to help Ashlynn do things typical kids do so naturally.  When we handed out the teacher Christmas gifts this year, I wanted to hug each person: the teacher, the SPED teacher, the para, the SLP, the OT, the PT, the psychologist, and THANK THEM.  Thank them for helping my child.  I remembered me a few years ago wondering why people were thanking me for doing my job…and that’s when it hit me.

    I get it now.

    Ashlynn’s TEAM this year is a dream team. Every…single….one……. believes in her.

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    This is Ashlynn’s first day of school pic.  The adult in the front is her teachers aid, and the adult in the back is her school SLP.  From day one they were there for her.  For the record, they both consider this “just doing their job.”  For me though, I knew she was taken care of from the start.  Ronnie, her teachers assistant (T.A), has bought her a book for her birthday AND for Christmas; and if you don’t know what T.A.’s make, let me put it bluntly and tell you they make shit.

    When I have told Ronnie thank you for buying Ashlynn these gifts, she only smiles as though she had no other choice and says “Of course!! It was her BIRTHDAY!!”

    It is incredibly humbling to know her salary, and know that she STILL felt like she owed my child a present.  I wish I could buy her the world.  I feel helpless to prove to her how much that means to me.

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    Which brings me to my next picture.  Ashlynn’s SPED teacher is one of the best.  I really don’t even know where to start.  Teaching is her calling.  Her compassion, passion, and drive is so infectious, it spills into her children, her biological children that is. This is a picture of her youngest daughter “teaching” Ashlynn during a tornado drill. Her daughter wants to be a teacher, and judging from her current skills, is well on her way!  Colleen has high expectations.  Can I just cry right now?? Ms. Colleen has HIGH expectations from my daughter.

    I can’t tell you how many times I have told various teachers and therapists that Ashynn is capable.  She will rise to the occasion.  I also remember the countless “you poor thing” pity stares as though I were in denial.  That never deterred me from saying it though.

    True to form, I wrote a note at the beginning of the year to Colleen in Ashlynn’s back and forth book and I said, “Ashlynn will rise to the occasion.”

    Now that Ashlynn has Colleen, she is proving it.

    12043207_10205988783131249_8742667403925880824_nThis next picture is Ashlynn at the Walk for Apraxia of Speech. The other girl in the picture is the daughter of Ashlynn’s school OT.  I’m a writer, and I can’t even….I can’t even….express the words to describe what this meant.  Why on Earth the school OT took time our of her weekend to bring her children to Ashlynn’s walk is beyond me.  I have no other choice but to feel blessed and humbled.  Even better is what these women are teaching their daughters.

     

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    This last picture is Ashlynn’s Kindergarten teacher.  I’m so blessed to be in a district who values inclusion.  This is Ashlynn’s general education Kindergarten teacher. Ashlynn is in a very restrictive special education program, and sometimes kids in this program don’t feel as part of their general education peers as they should.  Ms. McDermott, her general education teacher, values and treasures Ashlynn as part of her class. She tracks Ashlynn’s progress and knows her skills just as well as Ashlynn’s SPED teacher. In addition, she strives to ensure the children LOVE school.  She is a gem and in short, teaching is her calling too.

     

    Though the words sound so empty, they are filled with deep emotion.  “Thank you.”  I’ll never take it for granted again.

     

     

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  • …and the haters gonna hate

    At the risk of turning off people with another Ronda Rousey post, I debated not writing this.  However, I’m a writer, and in times of thought and reflection, a writer must write.

    I was more than shocked to realize not everyone shared my same vision and hope from my Ronda Rousey story.  I guess I was naive.  Either way, I started to feel down but then I realized something. I have nothing to prove to anyone, and trying to prove it doesn’t matter anyway.

    They might not share my vision or opinion, because of the very fact it wasn’t their vision, it was mine.  It wasn’t their experience, it was my experience.  I can’t care what haters have to say.  I don’t have time to care what they say because I’m too busy chasing my goal and my dream. Let them doubt.  Let them hate.  Let them bash.

    If you need me you’ll find me fighting for apraxia.  You’ll find me fighting for my daughter and for my clients.  You’ll find me doing what I can to raise awareness, to give my clients hope, to give my client’s parents hope.

    You’ll find me organizing a walk.  You’ll find me reading recent research, planning my lessons, making my materials or playing with my kids.   You’re not going to find me fighting you on whether or not you should like Ronda Rousey.  Why you would not gain hope from listening to a woman who beat apraxia speak with no hint of a speech disorder is beyond me.  Why you wouldn’t want to show your kids that they can not only beat apraxia but they can go on to do anything they want to do is beyond me.   I can’t dwell on other people’s motives or thinking.

    As far as Ronda having yet to respond, well, I’m not worried in the least.  I know what she promised, and I know she’s not impulsive.  In a quote the other day she said,

    “I’m a patient girl,” Rousey said. “I wanted to respond at the most appropriate time where I thought I could make the biggest impression…” when talking about her quip to Floyd Mayweather. (In case your wondering, she waited an entire YEAR).

    There is very little doubt in my mind that is why Ronda has yet to respond.  Aside from being insanely busy, she’s uber famous.  People are so entitled.  What, they think they sent out a tweet and she should respond immediately and if she doesn’t that means she doesn’t care?  Ronda herself trained in a gym for 8 months before the trainer finally agreed to give her a chance to even train for the UFC.  Someone sends out a tweet, waits 24 hours, and because she didn’t respond she has no interest in addressing it?  Who are you and what makes you think you’re so damn important?

    Ronda grew up during a time where apraxia was not even the term they really used for apraxia.  It was called a number of different things and some people believed it was a myth!  It has only been since 2007 since it was OFFICIALLY acknowledged.  Maybe she wanted to do her homework a little.  She looked me straight in the eye and made a concerted effort to promise me she would mention it. Immediately afterward she tweeted the brochure spreading awareness to millions.  MILLIONS.

    How is that not amazing?

    In the meantime, I’ll just be singing Taylor Swift “Haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate….”

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