Let's be honest, many parents would likely welcome the idea of their child being less sensitive to pain. Just imagine not having to comfort a crying child every time they take a tumble.
It may seem like a dream come true, but when your child is nonverbal and lacks the ability to feel pain, it presents some unique challenges.
Many autistic people feel things more strongly, while others feel things less strongly. Brantley falls into the later category and is considered hyposensitive. Because he doesn’t feel things as strongly as most, he is constantly craving sensory input and you can often find him aggressively touching things to feel more.
The biggest downfall of Brantley’s reduced sensory perception is that he doesn't register or feel pain. While some may view this as a parenting win, it actually fills me with constant concern. His inability to communicate discomfort means that if I overlook a nonverbal cue, my happy-go-lucky son might not receive the medical attention he needs.
Brantley's high pain sensitivity has broader consequences than just me missing nonverbal cues. It can cause doctors to underestimate his condition, delaying crucial care. Seven years ago, paramedics overlooked his concussion symptoms because Brantley was happily stimming, but the next day, he had a frightening delayed reaction, emphasizing the need to closely monitor his nonverbal cues.
Lately, these nonverbal signals have been concerning. Despite Brantley's outward cheerfulness, something seemed off. His abdomen was swollen, and he hadn't had a bowel movement in days—a significant departure from his usual frequency of 4 to 8 times a day. Even though he couldn't express his discomfort verbally, his body clearly indicated an issue.
As it turned out, he has a fecal impaction—another condition which highlights the significance of recognizing any subtle signs my nonverbal son shows.
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