Epic Movie Night!

 Simply enough, earlier today Fredrick and I conspired to have a exciting movie night this evening, complete with ice cream, red vines and popcorn. We were planning to watch the special edition of The Wizard of OZ. A righteous seventeen minutes in to our journey over the rainbow, I'm through my pint of Ben & Jerry's and Fredrick is snoring through the Munchkin's welcome fiesta. We are wild and caaaahrrrazyyyy guys!  In all seriousness, he deserves some R&R after today's shenanigans.
Fredrick woke up this bright morning so resistant to any course of action that I was sure it was to be a day of strife and several tantrums. As has become his ever increasing habit, Fredrick stood to prove me wrong. After a slightly down trodden morning hygiene routine and a spirited discussion about his "skipping" his rehab today, Fredrick appealed to his most trusted ally, his nurse. Much to my relief Fredrick's attempts to sway him were all in vain. True to his unfailing character MB explained that the ball was far from in his court, and with his typical warm exuberance, admittedly a manner that sometimes causes even me to attempt reach for a star, he urged Fredrick to climb back up into the old wheelchair saddle and give it another go. Throughout the day he gave it several more go's as fate would have it.
I find myself regularly inspired by Fredrick's incredible feats but I can't recall having before felt the tight, effusive sensation that grew in my chest this morning as I watched him engage in a remarkable transformation I could have never anticipated. As we entered the music therapy room I noticed him slowly inching toward the piano without prompting.
Music therapy is without a doubt Fredrick's favorite part of rehab. Up until this point his interest has been limited almost exclusively to learning the lyrics of Disney songs and listening to the music therapist play her guitar. This small advance my seem unimportant, but his desire to engage in a more physical way peaked my interest.
I watched from a hidden vantage point as the music therapist joined him on the piano bench and the two of them reviewed notes and scales, transiently conferring their significance. Out of the music room there began to flow a soft melody I found unfamiliar but pleasing, it paused intermittently but carried on for the better part of a half an hour. I crept into the room to observe his expression and body language as I was sure this was yet another passion of his I had never witnessed. Sure enough, his pleasured concentration and unmitigated delight, forced an unyielding shock of emotion through me. Here was music at it's best. No one would call it refined or symphonic but it was indeed all but earth shattering for me in that small moment.
What had caused this dramatic change? The thing I find most intriguing about Fredrick is his capacity for creativity. I feel as though his monotone speaking voice and consistent lack of emotion when expressing himself allow him to be perceived by most as a simple, spark-less being. His preference for strict schedules and repetitive activities often cause others to assume his interests are bound by his habits.
I confess myself often among the ignorant, but I have never been so earnestly abashed as the instant he rolled himself toward me after the session, smiling, asking "Did you hear that? I wrote that." To which I had to respond, "Yes, Kiddo, but I felt it too."

It is becoming evident that I have a broad spectrum of information that you, the reader, may need to be privy to when it comes to Fredrick. I could attempt to retrace our steps thus far, but that is a challenge I would rather not undertake. Perhaps we should start at the title of the blog.
Fredrick is a young man of various qualms and few convictions. He does not like titles, for reasons he has yet to divulge, he shudders at the thought of being called "Young Master Fredrick" by my Aunt, as well as "Mr. Gleason" and the like. Yet I have found that nothing disturbs him more than the simple "Sir." Although, like most things he is not fond of, he will allow it if it is uttered by his awe inspiring Murse Mr. Bananas. I continue to find myself puzzled as to what it is about our fearless gloved leader that has caused Fredrick to deem him worthy of such an honor, but any who meet him will agree, he is the epitome of awesome.
For those of you who have experienced Fredrick, you may recall his love of fact and precision, and his unwavering dedication to bluntness. He was quite straightforward with me the day I dared call him "Sir". He halted his progress while looking me in eye (eye contact from Fredrick is rarity) and said "Don't call me Sir." As he does not often act so demandingly, I took some offense initially.
Though I made a considerable effort to quickly forget the occurrence I found it lingering at the edge of my thoughts. It was the first concrete implication that Fredrick might allow me some subtle tools to get to know him better. He had expressed several times that he didn't care for titles but I wondered if this held any weight in his plight.
Let me lay out the facts for you... Fredrick is nineteen, but I haven't seen anything on TV aside from Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network and various Disney movies for more than two months. His interest in animals and their behaviors exceeds that of the late Crocodile Hunter, and his literary tastes are devoted mostly to fantasy. He eats roughly the same thing everyday although he has a smorgasbord of options at his fingertips. He despises using napkins and tissues and he enjoys displaying the evidence on his face and clothing that he has had chocolate or a dairy confection. Lastly, his interest in a wholesome game of 'Sorry' never fails.
 Days later as I pressed play on the dvd player to commence the special edition of Beauty and Beast for the 17th time this week, I realized rather suddenly that my ongoing presumption that Fredrick was reluctant to grow up was quite wrong. His career aspirations and intelligence paint a starkly different picture, one of a rapidly maturing individual. It is arguable that his autism could explain his preference for extreme repetition, but I beg to differ. He once said to me, "I'm not a rebellious person, it's just that when I'm told what to do it feels as though I'm being caged." It seemed to me that Fredrick may only have been exercising the most power he has over his current situation. What can he control in his present state? His day is a collection of scheduled therapies and medications, because of his conditions he is even limited as to which position he may lay in during his time in bed.
In that moment I felt a sense of relief in the clarity that he was sure of something that I until then hadn't been. He was yet un"caged" in one place; In his room, where he sturdily, day in and day out, holds court over the TV and his sometimes soporific meal choices. With a renewed sense of compassion, I settled down for another chorus of "Be our guest" and began to smile at the understanding that my being able to recite the dialogue of Beauty and the Beast from start to finish, or finding myself feeling faint at the prospect of hearing the Power Ranger's theme song even once more; is a small price to pay for the assurance that Fredrick has the final say in our tiny hospital room contained universe. No matter what happens to him out there in the wide open world of his afflictions, in here he is still calling his own shots; and as it stands, I intend to do all I can to uphold his flourishing in-room empire.

I realize I'm a little late in the game, but here are some classic Fredrickisms to get you started.

You should also know that Fredrick has a Male Nurse, a Murse if you will, who I consider our personal guardian angel and unfortunately my only friend in Atlanta. Fredrick loves him and holds him in very high esteem. As I have not yet asked him if he cares to be identified in my blogging, we will call him Mr. Bananas, or MB for short.


"Kayla and I might be distantly related, but in a short amount of time we've become as close as twins." 




"Tell MB I need more pain medication." 
Me-"Ok let me call him."
Fredrick-"No tell him."
Me-"I will, when I call him."
Fredrick-"No, tell him."
*I go find MB*
Me-"Fredrick needs more pain medication."
MB-"Why, didn't you just call me?"




"Don't you dare cut my hotdog, don't you dare!"




"I can't cath myself, I have to hold this heat pack on my ear...I'm sorry for the inconvenience Kayla."




 " The people in the cafeteria are unfortunately confused concerning the definition of hot dog, because those are bratwurst."


One day I went out for two hours.
 "Ummmm Kayla, I don't mean to be rude, but just where have you been all day?"




TV-"My mind is too powerful to be affected by hypnosis!"
Fredrick-"That's what they all say..."




"I wish you were my real cousin and MB was my real nurse."
Me-"MB is your real nurse."
"He feels like a step nurse."
Me-"What's a step nurse?"
"MB."


" I know I ask this all the time but do you think goats will eat meat?"
Me-"I think they are generally herbivores."
"They eat clothes and trash, they would probably like chili dogs."
Me- "Well played kiddo."

Two months ago I met my step cousin Fredrick,
whom I had seen once, years before when his Dad married my Aunt. I thought I had a pretty good concept of what to expect. He was in the hospital recovering from an accident that had occurred five months earlier, unfortunately a few things had gone slightly haywire and he was looking at some staggering hurdles. He had endured what I am going to call 'a sample platter' of medical procedures, lost the use of his legs, and had enough foreign bacterias in his body to make him one or two cocci short of a biohazard. I hopped a flight to Atlanta from San Diego to stay with him during the week while his parents were educating the masses as professors at Georgia College and State University in Milledgeville.
 Simple assignment right? I was bordering overconfidence, "Hang out with a nineteen year old who happens to have a touch of Autism and little bit of medical situation, no sweat, I got this."
Little did I know, there would be sweat...and blood, and tears, and consequently, vomit, urine and feces, and yelling, and fighting and sleep deprivation, and loneliness to rival the depths of solitude, and a big grey cloud of uncertainty, impending dread, and terror... and that it would be worth all of it.
Everyday I am going tell you a little more about Fredrick and his incredible fight for life, and you are going to like it. You really will. Trust me.