Autism and Schizophrenia: The Same “Disease”?
November 15, 2008 by Kristina Chew, PhD
Filed under Health
New theory says autism and schizophrenia same disease, says today’s Chronicle-Herald about the new theory about autism and genetics. According to this latest theory (per last Tuesday’s New York Times), “an evolutionary tug of war between genes from the father’s sperm and the mother’s egg can, in effect, tip brain development in one of two ways.” But (keeping in mind that autism was once referred to as childhood schizophrenia) can—should— autism and schizophrenia be equated?
I can’t speak difinitively to how it feels to get a diagnosis, since I don’t carry one, but learning about autism and the whole spectrum has certainly given me some relief. Being able to look at the requirements for a diagnosis of Asperger’s and then look at myself is almost reassuring.
My girlfriend finds this incomprehensible. She’s carried a diagnosis all her life (cerebral palsy), and at many times felt defined by it. She would love to escape it and can’t, because it’s something physically wrong with her. The idea that I can find comfort in shared symptoms and issues is totally foreign to her; I appreciate the idea that I’m not just weird and anti-social, which feel like superficial words for the problems I’ve had, especially in the realm of relating to peers. I do understand, I think, why some parents may find the term “little professor” to be condescending, but it is and was a good fit for me.
Conceptualizing myself as being on or near the spectrum has also given me some interesting insights at my work. I’ve been totally absent from most of the blogs I used to read regularly because I took a job in August working at a children’s psychiatric hospital. My regular shift is 3rd, so I don’t see too much of most of the patients, but I work the other two shifts pretty regularly, too. My unit is the children’s unit, so most of the kids are 12 and under. We’ve had quite a few young autistic kids since I started, and I’ve really enjoyed working with them (quite a few have had trouble sleeping at night, so I’ve seen them plenty!). It’s quite possible I’m seeing something that isn’t there, but I feel like I work well with the kids on the spectrum who are here because we understand each other. Their frustrations appear to be easier for me to read than for some of the other staff with the same amount of experience. And whatever it is in me that makes that possible, I’m profoundly grateful for it.
(As an aside, I worry for these kids, especially. We’re slated to close in June–we’re the only public center for kids and teens in my state, and budget cuts have us closing. Some of the kids we have will be fine in a private setting, but this is an acute care hospital, and many of the autistic kids we get are from the autistic residential schools in the state because they are violent to themselves or others. If these schools are sending these kids to us now, what happens when we close?)
I meant to make another point and didn’t, related to my girlfriend often feeling defined by her CP.
My mom is pretty resistant to me getting a diagnosis because she doesn’t want there to be something wrong. I’m pretty sure this is why I was never tested–also, I’m in my mid-twenties, and the criteria have broadened since I was a little kid, which is partially why I meet them now. I’ve gone most of my life different, but without a word (especially an official word written down by a doctor) to describe my issues. I’ve never felt discriminated against because of that word, never felt held back by it. If I do get a diagnosis now, it would be my own choice to take it on and deal with it. I can pass for normal when pressed.
Because her CP is obvious when you see her walk, Kitty never had that chance. She has always been the girl with CP, and often held back because of it (she started kindergarten a year late because she couldn’t yet walk, literally held back by her CP). I know that a physical disability and a developmental disability aren’t necessarily analagous, but it does make me wonder how I would have been different if I had gotten a diagnosis as a kid.
I can’t say if it would have been so reassuring to learn as a child that all of my differences had a name. It might have made my lack of friends more tolerable–or it might have made me hate the diagnosis and do everything I could to escape it. Same with my anxiety issues (which I’ve learned I can’t escape), or my sensory issues (I don’t even know how to escape those, if I wanted to).
I’m comfortable with learning about the spectrum and speculating about my position on it as an adult. Did you know a developmental disability includes disabilities that present before the age of 22 (or so says my job training tests I have to take)? The psychologist I saw when I was sixteen took my lack of friendships and perseveration issues for depression and anxiety, because I was a teen and that’s what teenagers have. If she had been looking for Asperger’s, she could have diagnosed that instead. Especially seeing some of the kids here with issues much like my own, I sometimes wonder if someone needs to clue in the psychologists that on the high-functioning Aspie end of the spectrum, one can pass for years until they break down.