Autism: An Unusual Child with Unusual Symptoms: A Lifelong Search for Answers

Rearing a boy with autism has shown me both the daily struggles and the extraordinary capabilities that come with his condition. Autism represents a different way of thinking, feeling, and expressing oneself—a unique variation of human experience. The challenges often lie in areas such as self-care and independence, like living alone, forming relationships, or relying on others for daily needs.

Reflecting on my childhood in the 1950s, I realize that what we now call autism was often dismissed or misunderstood. In my first-grade class in 1955, children who struggled to understand or had little interest in certain subjects were often ridiculed or called names. These behaviors, now recognized as symptoms of autism, were neither diagnosed nor accommodated.

An Unusual Child with Unusual Symptoms: A Lifelong Search for Answers

My research began 54 years ago—the day my son was born. I know far more now than I did then, but the search for answers continues.

He came into the world in 1969 with eight teeth—four on top, four on the bottom. Alarmed, I asked the doctor if something was wrong. He simply shrugged. “It is what it is,” he said. That moment marked the beginning of a journey filled with questions no one could easily answer.

From infancy, my son was quiet but remarkably observant. At six months, during a routine check-up, he had a mild cough and a low-grade fever. An experienced senior nurse—who had served during World War II—ran her finger across his damp forehead and paused. “Could be a mild case of cystic fibrosis,” she said, scribbling a note for the pediatrician. I passed it along, but he seemed puzzled. No tests were ordered. No diagnosis was made.

Socially, my son was atypical. He observed others carefully but didn’t form emotional connections easily—except with me. His bond with his father was distant, but he was intensely attached to me. He rarely cried, and when he did, I was the only one who could soothe him.

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A Sudden Collapse and a Shocking Diagnosis

At two and a half, just as we were leaving the house for a routine appointment, he collapsed—his small hand still in mine. For a few terrifying seconds, he lay unresponsive, breathing shallowly. Our taxi driver insisted we skip the ambulance and drove us straight to the hospital. There, as he slowly regained consciousness, a doctor delivered a startling diagnosis:
“Your son had a stroke. He grows in rapid spurts—he may have another.”

That was all they said. No treatment plan. No prognosis. Just silence where guidance should have been.

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Early Childhood and Emerging Anomalies

When he was three, I divorced his father and moved in with my brother. My sister-in-law, a pediatric nurse, helped care for him while I worked. Not long after, I was hospitalized with a severe psoriasis flare-up and discharged early when it became clear my son couldn’t emotionally handle my absence.

A kind family cared for him during the day, which allowed me to return to work and secure a stable home. In their company—especially with their three children—he seemed to flourish. But once school began, the unusual developmental patterns returned—and, in some ways, became more pronounced.

At four and a half, he began growing a second row of teeth behind the baby teeth. The dentist wasn’t concerned. “The adult teeth will push the baby ones out,” she said. But they didn’t. Some baby teeth remained, and a supernumerary tooth appeared in the middle of the upper dental arch. Years later, I would learn it was an ectopic tooth, likely growing into the maxillary sinus—an extremely rare occurrence.

Did this abnormality affect his brain structure? I still ask that question today, but no one has been able to provide a definitive answer.

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Neurological and Cognitive Signs

By second grade, his development was clearly asynchronous. His room was chaotic—except for one corner, where his toys and comics were meticulously arranged. Then came a call from his teacher: he had walked out of class without permission. I knew instinctively where to find him.

His explanation was simple: “School is boring. The teacher says everything over and over again.”

The teacher, who had a background in psychology, noted that he was profoundly gifted in mathematics but struggled with reading aloud. He absorbed written material by scanning, grasping meaning almost instantly, yet avoided vocalizing it. She tentatively suggested Asperger’s Syndrome—now understood as part of the Autism Spectrum.

Desperate to understand, I immersed myself in books, journals, and medical literature—searching for a pattern, a name, a diagnosis that would finally explain his contradictions. But as he grew older, the puzzle only deepened.

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Adolescence: Contradictions and Clues

Until age 14, he was the shortest child in his class. He avoided handshakes and eye contact, yet displayed intense empathy in unexpected moments. I once told his physician:
“It’s as if he lives in two separate brains—one cold and analytical, the other deeply feeling.”

He became increasingly impulsive and fearless—jumping from a second-story window, sledding down icy stone steps, unconsciously seeking dopamine rewards. He once walked the dog in –5°C weather wearing just a t-shirt and shorts. He felt the cold, but never complained. When his elbows were scraped raw from braking during a fall, he merely said, “It’s not bad, Mom.”

Then came another rapid growth spurt. By 18, he stood 184 cm tall.

Yet executive function remained a major challenge. He couldn’t prioritize. He lived completely in the moment—spending money impulsively, ignoring future consequences, and seeking immediate gratification.

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A Brain Injury, but Little Change

At 27, he was in a serious car accident and lost part of his left frontal lobe along with 80% of the vision in his left eye. But surprisingly, his behavior changed very little.

That presented a new challenge for me. As someone who plans and prepares for contingencies, his disregard for foresight and planning was difficult to navigate. He remained inconsistent—sometimes cold and calculating, other times deeply empathetic—yet always disconnected from the long-term consequences of his choices.

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Now at 56: Still Searching

Today, at 56, my son continues to live with what I can only describe as a disconnected brain—oscillating between logic and emotion, awareness and detachment.

I still ask myself: Was it the stroke at two and a half that disrupted the communication between his brain hemispheres, preventing emotional and cognitive integration? Or was there a genetic component?

His father’s background offers some clues. He was raised by a stern, often enraged grandfather and a passive grandmother. His parents—intelligent and professionally successful—were also alcoholics. My ex-husband exhibited narcissistic traits and emotional detachment. He demanded everything and gave little in return. Ultimately, this behavior led to our separation.

I don’t know what the true origin of my son’s condition is. But I’ve learned to live with uncertainty. I’ve come to love my son not despite his uniqueness, but through it—even when the challenges feel overwhelming.

His mind—brilliant, contradictory, and mysterious—continues to defy simple explanations. And through him, I’ve learned that sometimes the most valuable insights lie not in the answers we find, but in the questions we never stop asking.

Symptoms of Autism. A Comprehensive Guide

© 2000-2025 Sieglinde W. Alexander. All writings by Sieglinde W. Alexander have a fife year copy right.
Library of Congress Card Number: LCN 00-192742
ISBN: 0-9703195-0-9