Highly extreme parenting
PDA and Norovirus: a delightful partnership
I originally wrote a lighter post about language – Olivia has started using a communication ipad with entertaining results. But last week she was struck down with a violent diarrhoea and vomiting bug and since then we have been in a horrible parallel universe which I’m going to talk about in order to get it off my chest instead.
I need to choose my words carefully, as you’ll be relieved to hear that I’ve promised Matthew that I will keep Olivia’s dignity intact (ie not specifically mention poo/bottoms), let’s see if I can manage it shall we?*
Our eldest George messaged us the week before last, he had been extremely unwell with a tummy bug. All my mummy instincts kicked in, and I drove up there, scooped him up, brought him home and made him soup. He recuperated nicely and went back to uni a few days later.
The very next day his sister went down with it. We have a double problem with Olivia: dealing with the illness, then dealing with her Pathological Demand Avoidance around allowing us to look after/treat her. Usually the PDA is more of a challenge than the original issue.
You’ve probably heard of PDA, it’s been known about since the 1970s, but has come to prominence more recently. I read a deeply unhelpful Substack article about it the other day essentially saying that it’s all made up. A lot of recent press says stuff like this. But PDA is real, and I should bloody know. It is a profile of autism in which certain everyday demands, normal or mildly irritating to you and me, make the recipient literally panic. They go into ‘fight, flight or freeze’ mode and respond accordingly. To me, cleaning my teeth is a routine annoyance: to Olivia, it’s a life-or-death demand which she has to fight with every fibre of her being. Because she is unable to look after herself in the most basic of ways, each time we try to do something to/for her, she is being thrust into anxiety-laden territory. Genuine PDA essentially has extreme anxiety at its core.
The way to work through PDA is to work with it. If you try to force Olivia to do anything, if you shout at her, grab her, you’ve lost. And the next time you want her to co-operate, there’s even less chance that she will. If you can be understanding about the current source of pressure, it loses some of its power over her. Telling someone with PDA that they’re being silly does the exact opposite: it adds more pressure to an already boiling pot.
Olivia needs a huge amount of personal space in order to feel safe. In her mind, anyone coming close is probably going to try and do something unwelcome to her. In fairness, this is kind of true. We touch her mainly to wash/brush her hair (ouch), put creams on her (yuk), wipe her (ugh), adjust her clothes (why?). So as soon as we approach, she immediately goes into fight mode, and we can be lucky to get away without a push or a smack. She also spits, tics and makes dinosaur noises at us, which are involuntary signs of panic, not her trying to be a little bugger (it did take a while to realise this).
Getting close for affection is therefore complicated. If I want to give her a kiss, I have to approach with my arms behind my back (see, I’m not going to do anything to you!) and my lips puckered, saying ‘Kiss’ so that she understands. Even then often she’s not up for it and I get pushed away. Physical affection is given/received purely on her terms. I’ve got used to this, and it’s really not a problem, I know that she loves me! On the plus side, you do feel very specially chosen if she approaches you for a lean-in.
Back to Norovirus. You can see now how the above problem is worse if she needs an urgent change. The feeling of urgency (from us), plus the additional soreness/discomfort (so extra pressure from herself) add together to magnify the demand. In total sods law, the more urgently she needs changing, the less likely she is to let us do it.
When she was little, we just grabbed her, sat on her and did whatever needed doing. I now think that was probably a mistake, as it’s set her up to mistrust us as an adult. I’m not castigating my past self, we just did what we thought we had to do at the time. But now we can’t get near her nails, teeth, hair or (sometimes) bottom, and my regular readers know that this is an ongoing constant concern.
This is why, when she had her gynae problems last year, they escalated so badly before being treated. Nobody could even feel her tummy, let alone get her into a scanner. It was easier to dismiss her problems as ‘behavioural’ without forcing an examination.
Anyway, back to today, Day 4 of what on paper seems very like Norovirus. Keeping to my word, I’m not going to describe these 4 long days/nights in detail, but if you have any imagination at all, you will be able to get there. Let’s add in that I am not a naturally patient person, who very much values their sleep, and is pretty squeamish about bodily fluids (although obviously much much better than I used to be), and you’ll get the overall picture.
She is now on the mend but still resisting being changed, and not able to eat much. We’re at the plain rice, noodle soup stage. Last night was our first full sleep since it kicked off. She is off college sick and I am yet again cancelling clients. I’ve barely been outside for days. My house smells.
If this post reads like I have lost my mojo, yes indeed this is true. It will return for next time and we can have a laugh together at her new ipad words. But this week, things are tough in Extreme Parenting land, as they sometimes just are. And that’s nobody’s fault, least of all Olivia’s, who has been remarkably stoical throughout this horrible bug. Much more stoical than her mother.
*I think I managed it?
That sounds really tough. I’m glad she’s starting to feel better.
Mega sympathy. Good of you to spare us the detail but unimaginable for you.