A Ramp for Our Family

A few years ago, I wrote a post about a ramp for Jeffrey.  It was an angry post, a bitter post that was fed by  two years of frustration with the school system, with my friemily, with the world at large that didn't understand what it was that we were going through with the Asperger's diagnosis.  I was just exhausted by it all and I was at my wits' end.

Cut to the present...or more accurately, a few months ago when we were planning our trip to Disney World. Betsy mentioned to Will that one of her friends had told her about handicap access at Disney properties and she made the suggestion to him that perhaps he should check out if there were any autism modifications.  Various searches lead him to realizing that with a doctor's note, families of autistic children could get a special pass that would allow them to bypass the long lines that would be difficult for their kids.  It wouldn't eliminate wait times, but it could shorten them considerably.

We decided to try to get one of these passes.  It was a hard decision for us to make.  You have to understand:  we've spent the last few years pushing Jeffrey.  We've pushed him not to be normal, but to live up to all of the vast potential inside him.  We have taught him behavior modification techniques, we've encouraged him to be patient, to utilize focusing tools.  We've involved him in extracurricular activities and tried so very, very hard to help him to see his Asperger's as a gift and not something that holds him back.  We don't see it as something to be cured (although we respect the folks that do), but rather as something that is a challenge and an opportunity.  So calling it a handicap was...hard.

On the other hand, the idea of standing in line with Jeffrey in the sun at an amusement park with children screaming around him and smells wafting past him for an HOUR or more made me want to fall over.  So we got the doctor's note.  It was awful to ask for it, but the doctor was all, "Wow.  That's pretty awesome, hunh?"  I muttered thank you and stowed the note away as quickly as possible.

That first day at Disney World, standing outside Epcot, Will went to the Visitor Center.  We were apprehensive.  Things couldn't be this easy.  We thought that MAYBE one of us would be able to bypass the lines with Jeffrey and we'd have a sort of lopsided vacation, with half of the family doing one thing and half of the family doing the other.  I worried--privately--that the staff would look at my normal-looking kid and go, "Uh, no.  Sorry."

Will came back with the pass, looking a little dazed.  He said, "They were totally cool with it.  They said just to show it to the cast member at the front of the rides."  We looked at each other.  Really, this couldn't be this easy.  It NEVER had been before.

We made it into Epcot and pulled out our map and headed for our first ride.  Do you know, I can't even remember what it was, now?  (Jeffrey, that font of knowledge, says it was the Nemo ride.)  Will had the pass in his hand and we made our way over to a cast member (that's what they call the workers at Disney, by the way.)  I was so nervous and embarrassed.  It felt humiliating to do this, it felt like cheating.  I hung back with the kids, holding their hands so tight, ready to turn and walk away if it didn't work.

But it did.  Will motioned at us and we walked forward and the smiling cast member directed us to a...ramp. Free of people and obstacles, it lead straight up to the ride queue.  Oh, our kids were so excited.  I watched Jeffrey  gallumping up the ramp, waving his arms and laughing with River and...y'all...I cried.

I couldn't help it.  Here was our ramp.  Here was our easy way to what other people did every day with ease.  I grabbed Will's hand and we held on tight to each other.

I said, "We earned this.  We've all earned this."

And we have.  All of the phone calls and the visits to the school and the medications and the meetings and the charts and lists and ABA practices, all of the angry stares as Jeffrey melted down in a grocery store, all of the times River couldn't get attention because Jeffrey had to be served AT THAT MOMENT, all of the frustration of seven years became worth it.  The embarrassment fell away.  We weren't cheating.  We were taking part in the magic like everybody else.

It was wonderful.  I mean it.  Disney really does everything better than anybody else.  Every thing that place did was designed to make things easy and magic and special for everybody.

For those two days, we really were at the most magical place on earth.