On being forged into a warrior mom

If I could summarize our journey from Hell to HOPEISM, it would be in my faith, which I call HOPEISM. It has been my weapon of choice to get me through each battle I have had to fight in my mission to win our war called life with autism and seizures. Vaccine injury to be more specific. It would also be in committing to heart, soul, & mind the words and motto's from Forged, NDCQ, the Lone Survivor, and Levi Lusko in his book, "Through the Eyes of a Lion." I will be forever grateful to the inspiration, encouragement, and mental fortitude found through all of them collectively. Because of that, I am not allowing this tragedy of vaccine injury that has come into our lives to be an obstacle to being used by God. I am instead turning it into an opportunity to be used like never before!


This blog is dedicated to Brandon. His life has been forged by difficulty, obstacles, & all too often because of seizures - pain, blood, broken teeth, & broken bones. Yet through all that he has shown such fortitude. The bravery, strength, & resilience of a true warrior. He taught me that having strength through adversity means that even if you lose every battle, like the Lone Survivor, you never quit fighting until you win the war. That in the words of "NDCQ," you keep "dreaming," keep "daring," & keep "doing." As Team Guppy has yet to be able to escape vaccine injury, we have no choice but to as Levi Lusko writes, "Run toward the Roar." God has indeed given us such incredible power in enduring such impossible pain.

Some days the HOPEISM in that simply takes my breath away.

June 28, 2017

Of being a bubble-wrapped blueberry...

This writing won't be for those who go through life with rose-colored glasses.

It certainly isn't for those who "celebrate" National Autism Awareness Month.

It is for those who dare to take the time to read about the reality that is life with vaccine injury.

Life with autism...  
(Which for the majority, is life with vaccine injury.)

Which for the majority of those I know, is very much the title of my blog in being a lifelong journey from hell to HOPEISM.

I want to share about a brief visit I had with one such warrior mom who I will not identify...

I have to share it because the reality of her life needs to be known because it represents the reality of so very many in this autism community.  The reality of  our lives that is rarely shown because if it were to be rated as a movie, it would have a "graphic violence" warning.  The reality of our lives is so far from what is portrayed, how we actually live, it's pathetic.  That so many like this mom are in every community, is a horrific tragedy of epic proportions.

And yes, I'll say it.

It's a tragedy that overshadows the holocaust.
I do realize that what I'm sharing here, is but the tip of a very large iceberg in how so many of us must live.  As bad as what I've seen, experienced, or know of is, there are those who live with much worse.  How much worse?  That they would murder their children rather than live one more day with no help and no hope that help will ever come.  That they would rather commit suicide because death is kinder than life.  The iceberg of an entire generation of severely affected adults with autism (vaccine injury) will sink this country when the collision comes of when they are left to the state after their parents die or simply cannot care for them any longer.

I was just so moved by the stark reality of what I saw in how this warrior mom must live that I cried on and off the rest of the day.  Not in pity of her, but for the situation she is in.  She is a fighter.  She deserves such enormous respect.  It is the situation that moved me.  The all-too-familiar situation of those who care for adults with autism who are bigger and stronger than they are.

I went to her house to pick up some supplies that she didn't need - and after a brief hello as I'm checking on my son in the car and she's checking on her son in the house - she showed me her new outfit.

Her son, like so very many, has behavior outbursts and meltdowns and at times pretty significant aggression.  Like so many of us her house is adorned with patches from holes knocked in the walls.  For some, it's from kicks or punches from innocent adults who have no communication.  No way to express hurt, frustration, chronic inflammatory illness, or any number of things that vaccine injury or "autism" has triggered.   My house is adorned with many such patches from holes in the walls from where my son fell because of violent seizures.   A few weeks ago we were inaugurated with our "first".   Our first hole in the wall that he actually kicked.  It was late at night and instead of our son being able to read a book or watch tv if he wasn't tired - he laid there repeatedly kicking the wall.

(please ask us if we thought about disciplining him to not do that)

You see autism first hand even walking up to her house.  The glass pane on her front door is covered in tape from a meltdown.  I keep mentally thinking that I want to have my husband go replace the window for her, but then he's still got a few holes in our home to patch.  What makes me so sad in that, is how I know we can't help her because we don't have the money to.  There are so many things we need to do that we can't.  It's always like that.  It is us helping each other.  Or at least wishing we could. With few exceptions, no one around us in our family, our church, our community seem to get that.  Maybe if we wore dirty ragged torn clothes and lived on a street corner someone would finally notice our need for help.  Too bad our need isn't that obvious.   On the surface, we're just like any other typical family.  The "disability" in our life nothing that at a quick glance stands out.  Many, like this warrior friend of mine, live as I participate in my exercise class....  The "suffer in solitude and silence" mode in the back corner of the room.

For many, their suffering is very much silent.  For fear.  Fear that though they are doing everything in their power to help their child, someone will judge them and make them out to be the bad guy.  Threaten to take their child away, as if there's a better place for them out there!  Let's not blame an entire system that has failed our kids, let's blame the parent.  I was a victim of that in how I dared to share bloody pictures of the aftermath of my sons seizures.  Instead of anyone offering to help me figure out what caused them (or who - pharma) I was turned in to Adult Protective Services for sharing that reality of what vaccines did to my son so that others would know how to avoid that happening to their son.

Every time I go to her house and see her front door, I think how it is her church, her family, her neighbors who should rally to fix that door for her.  But sadly, much like when my husband was abruptly laid off from his job, it is our very own community who rallies for us and who help us despite needing help themselves.  In our case, a GoFundMe was set up where people who had no business giving anything because they were as broke as me - gave what they could.

Every.One.Of.Us. need a GoFundMe for something in our lives with autism.

(please suggest we seek state services/assistance for our loved one with autism)

How this friend keeps a sense of humor about her is beyond me.  I admire her, and so many just like her so very much.  Warriors living with such extremes in their children, never knowing if one moment will be a smile or a smack in the face.  Never knowing if the day will be yet another trek through hell or the HOPEISM of as good a day as we can hope to get despite all our children must endure.

Like so many of my friends, this one is single.  Her husband left her with a very significantly affected son who is taller and stronger than she is.  Like so many of my friends, she's been in a crisis situation and has had to call the police or ambulance during yet another meltdown that our kids have that is triggered by who knows what... It can be as complicated as pain they can't communicate or that you did some sequence out of order and they just couldn't handle it.  Whatever the cause, the outcome is always the same.  Police arrive and the only help they can give is to handcuff a severely affected adult with autism.  Which makes things worse, not better.  Our kids have been tasered, and in a few instances, shot.  Some suggest taking them to the hospital which is hilarious because there aren't even any hospitals that are properly equipped to handle the complex needs our kids have.  There is no 9-1-1 for autism.  There is no sensory friendly "hospital" for autism.  There is simply no tangible, appropriate help for the brand of autism that most I know have.

For this mom, all there is, is bubble-wrap.

And a whole lot of faith.

And humor.

When she showed me her new dress, for a split second I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

I did laugh.

It was hysterical in a most horrific kind of way.

A grown woman, a dear friend, reduced to having to make a body shield out of bubble-wrap to protect herself.  Bouncing off a wall would be much better than being obliterated by it.  Her bubble-wrap dress was complete with duck-tape seams and velcro to attach her phone to it in case she needed to call the non-help 9-1-1 help.

She's pretty darn talented.  This bubble-wrap dress had a crew neck opening, tank top straps, then went down to about her knees with duck tape side seams.  I wanted to ask her if she could make me one with Camo-tape seams for one day if I need such protection.

And maybe some princess seams because, "Does this bubble-wrap make my butt look too big?"

Sigh........

If you don't live this life, I want you to read those last few paragraphs again.

I want you to fully digest that in a society where we have the technology and intelligence and resources to do most anything - we have left mothers like this one with no help, no resources, and very often no hope that things will ever change for them.  Society has given her nothing except being reduced to making herself a bubble-wrap protective shield of a dress for in case her son has yet another meltdown and through no fault of his, takes it out on her.

With all of our American Red Cross and compassion and help for everyone in every other country or human situation, what we've told this mom is that all we can muster for her is bubble-wrap.

I told her she needs to patent that design because there are thousands of mothers out there who need that dress, or who will before they know it.

She could sell them online.  Custom made with your choice color of duck tape for the seams.

With the epidemic numbers of autistic adults who have violent meltdowns, she would be rich.

Allow that to sink in.

This friend is pretty petite in size, so when I noticed before she modeled her bubble-wrap dress that her bottom half was a bit - bigger - I figured finally she was able to have time for herself and actually eat something.

But then she showed me her other design for everyday wear.

The bubble-wrap dress mainly for during a meltdown.

The shorts for daily wear in case her son shoves too hard or something.  She took the waterproof pads that come with deliveries of incontinence supplies, and stuffed several layers in her pants all around her hips.  If she was forcefully shoved, at least if she fell her hips wouldn't shatter.  She would just bounce.

I want society to read that again.

What other parent in any other disability is reduced to bubble-wrap dresses and puffy pants?

None.

No other.

We had a good laugh about her new wardrobe, but make no mistake, it isn't funny.  We can laugh because we live it.  It's the only defense we have against insanity.

When I left her house, I didn't think I had any room left in my heart for another scar, but that visit put one there.  I cried all the way home for her, for so many others like her.  I cried that one day it could be me being reduced to wearing bubble-wrap to protect against my son.

The worst I've experienced so far was a hand or arm too close to his teeth when he was mad about something or hurting.  When trying to prevent him from hurting himself, at times I've been inadvertently slapped.

The injustice against us and our kids in these situations is nothing short of horrific.

I've had friends be out in public and suddenly their adult son went from happy to meltdown in a split-second.  Instead of help from police called by perhaps well meaning bystanders to help them, they were punished, arrested.  Absolutely no awareness from those whose job it is to help. Making a horrific situation become nothing short of a living nightmare.

I rarely take my son out in public because of the fear of what has happened to others, happening to me.

My friend shouldn't have had to even think about making a bubble-wrap dress and puffy pants making her look like the "Blueberry Girl" in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

She needed to have a list of phone numbers of people, of adult men who are trained in autism-care who she could call to come protect her and her son during a meltdown.

But where is the ambulance for that?

Where are the trained volunteers for that in each community?

No where.

Where are the short-term crisis centers where parents at the end of their rope could bring their children for behavioral intervention while they can catch their breath?

No where.

To even attempt to do that for every community would financially break cities.

Would financially collapse our country.

So who do we have to turn to?

Our families who give to most everything else except to the person in their own family who needs the help.

Our churches who send mission teams to every other country except for the autism community in their own back yard.  Yes, they may "know about" Jesus, but perhaps we need to realize the equally important aspect of them actually "witnessing" the hands and feet of Jesus...

Our society who would rather pretend we aren't there or call the cops or CPS on us instead of taking the time to care, comfort, or collaborate with others in helping.

There are few exceptions, and for that we are thankful if we've been the recipient of such blessings.

But for most, help is few and far between.

If at all.

For the most part what I see is that this mom has a bubble-wrap dress, puffy-pants, and still a taped up front door window.

And as I laugh hysterically at the picture she sent me of her modeling her new wardrobe, with the smile that shows both grace and strength despite the adversity, -- all I can think of is what the helmet she'll make next will look like.

Because we all know, insurance or medicaid sure won't pay for a real one for her.

March 19, 2017

Of sparkling, sweating, and surviving...


Cue Rocky music while reading... So... in my ever-present quest to pretend I have a life or can achieve personal goals outside of caring for my son who is vaccine injured - I decided to not just do my usual lap swimming at the YMCA this afternoon; but to venture forth and try a muscle conditioning and boot camp class. I mean, why not go for a total body breakdown in doing two classes when one would have done me in just fine? That I haven't done a group exercise class since what seems like 1974, is of no consequence. It's like riding a bike, right? You never forget how to do it... Well, apparently you may not forget, but your muscles do. I probably should have listened to my gut instinct to run when the instructor noticed my "Spartan Finisher" shirt I was wearing and said, "Oh, you were there too? So was I! After the race my buddies and I stayed and did the Hurricane Heat and pushed out cars that were stuck in the mud-pit that was the parking lot!" People like him who do Spartan Races are actually fit enough to truly do Spartan Races. I merely try to push myself, overcome fears, and do what I can and finish without needing surgery. Even that didn't go so well last year when I indeed needed surgery after and epic bad landing going over the Warrior Roast fire jump. But... I watched what everyone else was doing and I did my best. The instructor was great about giving modifications for those moves that not everyone could do, but I knew I was the odd fish out when he seemed to be looking at me when he shared about "alternative" moves altogether. I'm thankful that vaccine injury and Brandon taught me long ago to not worry about what others think of me. I mean, I've been in Wal-Mart at Easter with an open bag of jelly beans trying to 'appease the beast' by giving jellybeans to him one by one so I could get out of there for once without leaving a full shopping cart behind and had Brandon decide I wasn't giving them to him fast enough and proceed to grab the bag from me sending an entire bag of jelly beans bouncing all across the main aisle. Being in that class today was much like being in the middle of the main aisle of Wal-Mart waiting for the jelly beans to stop bouncing so I could run from the store... But I digress... As hard as it was, it really felt so good to do something new. Something for me. As painful as it was, I enjoyed it. It was a sense of accomplishment. I work hard for Brandon, for advocacy, in trying to keep our home from being condemned by the health department, and somewhere in there I do try to give attention to my husband. But often those things never seem finished. It is a never-ending process. The vaccine injury and working to heal my son or help him the best I can is something that will never be done. They are things where the rewards are few and far between. Things where I have to squint really hard to find the rewards at all. I guess that's why Todd and I love to do the obstacle course races we do. At least there we get to cross the finish line as a reward to all the hard work, challenges, and endurance. For me to even get to go to these classes, to swim, means that Todd has to be with Brandon. We can't even be like the couple I followed in the class who dropped their child off at the Child Watch Center and then went to class together. There is no "Child Watch Class" for 23 year-old's who need assistance with toileting. It was a downer realizing all that vaccine-injury has taken from me. I was jealous of the woman on the front row with the heavy weights and no modifications. I bet she didn't have to spend every spare moment caring for her adult son or researching ways to help him or advocating for him, or trying to find a day program for him or help on the weekends so she could have an actual "weekend" with her spouse. It's hard facing what you could be if only vaccine injury didn't happen and change everything. I mean, everything. I tried to boost my self-worth by imagining myself asking the elite in class if they could do those weights with no sleep for a week, if they could clean up leaky-gut episodes without vomiting, and if they would dare put their bare hand through a bathtub of diarrhea-filled water to pull the plug out. I wanted to ask if they could survive a meltdown on a full moon or endure yet another service door slamming in their face. Sure you can do power squats with a thirty pound bar on your shoulders, but can you walk through each day with the weight of your child's entire lifetime on your shoulders? Can you listen to HMMMMMMM, HMMMMMMMMMMM, HMMMMMMMMM all day and night and not go bat-shit-crazy? "Yeah, I thought not!" So I went on with my bad-self and all my modifications, determined to stick it out and cross the finish line. Numb arms and jello legs. I did have one thing going for me to be proud of. I invented a new move to replace the burpee. Warriors like me who have vertebre on the verge of touching each other because of the years of awkwardly lifting a dead weight brick of jello off the floor after a seizure have no business doing a burpee that puts extra pressure on the spine. So instead I did a squat and jumping jack as one "burpee-like" move. "The Squack" I called it. So when that move becomes the new burpee-alternative on the Spartan course, remember that you read about it here first. Mercifully that class ended, and for the Boot Camp class we went outside to the fields. For the warm up the instructor pointed to a fence that seemed like an entire football field away - and said to sprint there and back. I looked at him and laughed. The only time I sprint is if I'm in one room and Brandon is in the other and I hear him start to have a seizure and sprint there to catch him before his head hits the deck. I wanted to tell him that for this class, the only way he would see me sprint is if he told me the cure for my son's seizures is at that fence line and the first one there gets it. I can live with autism, that's nothing compared to seizures. But give me a cure for seizures and I be like, "Get outta my way boys-n-girls and let me show you how sprinting is done!" But, ..... I just groaned and did my slow jog of shame and made the rest of them look good. (ok fine, power-walk) I mean, didn't Jesus say in Matthew 20:16 that "many who are last shall be first?" All and all it was a great day of new beginnings. I can only get better from this point forward. It is that warrior mentality that helps me get through each sucky moment of autism or seizures. And to the woman in front of me with the "I don't sweat, I sparkle" shirt? I may not have sparkled today, but I survived. And in my life, with all the trips From Hell to HOPEISM that I've had to endure, -- that is everything.
#NDCQ

February 4, 2017

The Curious Incident...


The Curious Incident of the Adult Protective Services visit during the day:

An Open Letter to politicians, policymakers, physicians, lobbyist groups, & passionate parents everywhere --
My name is Michelle Guppy. I am the mother of two boys.  One of them is vaccine-injured.  Significantly vaccine-injured.  He is labeled as having "autism" but make no mistake it is very much vaccine-injury and I will not ever shy away from speaking the truth regarding that.  One need only look through the twelve pages of medical office visit notes I painstakingly compiled to see that after each vaccination, I brought him in to the Pediatrician for an adverse event that was listed in the tiniest of prints on that package insert that comes with each vial of vaccines that I never ever got before I consented to the vaccine.  But that's for another discussion…

Right now I would like to address another rampant epidemic that must be stopped.
The hate.

The bullying.

The blocking.

The threatening.

The labeling.

The fear-mongering.


The things of that nature that politicians, physicians, policymakers, and non-profit immunization groups that support them have declared "open season" to participate in lately.

The vaccine choice issue is not going away.  Pandora's box has been opened and thanks to Dr. Thompson, the CDC Whistleblower, (and many others) the truth of vaccines has been freed and we mere parents will not stop speaking and sharing that truth.  The lid on the truth will never again be nailed shut in the name of "the science has spoken" no matter how much those who profit from vaccines or whose campaigns are funded by vaccines wish it to be.  The truth from the science that hasn't been allowed to speak is there for those brave enough to believe it.  For those humble enough to do better because of learning it.  Vaccines maimed my son, and hundreds of thousands of other children.  As inconvenient and bothersome as that truth is, it still remains the truth.  We've traded normal, acute, fully recoverable childhood ILLNESSES for chronic lifelong debilitating DISORDERS and DISEASES that are far worse than anything vaccinated against.  Vaccines in the name of SIDS have murdered countless babies.   These normal febrile illnesses being vaccinated against are not the plague of our time that will wipe out humanity.  The plague of adverse vaccine reactions and the destruction of our children's brains is the plague of our time that IS and WILLforever alter humanity if we don't stop it.

When I did my own independent research and realized what I had allowed happen to my son in consenting to vaccines, I had a decision to make.  I thought long and hard about that decision, because I knew the implications and what might come of it.  I knew the risks of being transparent.  I knew sharing our truth would make me a target.  But as severely injured as my son was, I knew even more that I had to use his story, what happened to him, as a warning to other parents so they would not ever have to live through the hell my family has.  Is.  And so from very early on, I was transparent with the unpopular truth of what happened to him.  When I heard over and over that "vaccines are safe" - I would share my sons story (that was really hundreds of other parents stories as well) about just how unsafe they actually are...   When I would hear how parents were being told "vaccine injury is mild" and was portrayed as being as benign as "pain and swelling at the injection site" - I would share a picture or video of my son gasping and choking and seizing and convulsing his way through yet another vaccine induced Grand Mal Seizure.  I did those things not to exploit him, but so the truth that was buried under the lies and corruption would be exposed.  THAT, is the greater good

Parents deserve to know both sides of the vaccine story and I believe with all that is in me, that my sons purpose in his injury is to leave a legacy of having shared that truth.  Vaccine injury is not rare nor is it mild and if any good could come from the horror of him having to live through what he must each and every day of his life, it would be in sharing that truth as awful as it is to see, as horrific as it is to watch, or how painful that gasping for air is to listen to.  My purpose is to share that truth to make vaccine injury "one less" nightmare another parent must endure.

Parents are not being fully informed of how more babies, children, and adults are being harmed or killed from the vaccine and not from the illness vaccinated against.  They do not know the stark reality of trading a week-long inconvenience of illness for a lifelong reality of a child that could quite possibly miss every major milestone in life.  As my son has.   And in answer to the question "measles" or "autism" -- oh you bet measles.  I'll take a strengthened immune system over a weakened one any day, - and any parent who is allowed to hear the fully informed truth of that, will choose that too.

It has been because of  that truth that politicians, physicians, policymakers, immunization groups, and even some parents- have felt that it was open season to rapid-fire attack those who dare share that truth.  Those parents whom I might add were like me, "Pro-Vax".   For the record, I vaccinated my son on time every time.  It was not until it was too late, that I realized I was fooled.  Lied to.  Deceived.

Politicians, physicians, policymakers, immunization groups, and fellow parents have called us such vile and filthy names it borders on criminal hate crimes.  We've been threatened, yelled at, and made fun of,  - all for merely sharing the truth as we witnessed it occurring in our own children.

Those who have differing views in supporting and believing in vaccines have said that if we don't vaccinate our children they should be taken away from us.  That if our children die and they weren't vaccinated that we should be brought up on murder charges!  So what then would be the charge we get to levy on the government when their mandated vaccines injure or kill our children?  Because when you understand the toxic and carcinogenic sludge that is vaccines, vaccination is very much assault with a deadly weapon.  Yet there is no recourse for us when our children are assaulted, injured, or killed.  We are left to pay that price for the rest of our life, and our child's.

I respect that some parents do vaccinate.  They have that right, just as I have the right in choosing to no longer vaccinate my son or myself because of the independent research I have done.  Even though I disagree with their choice and try to share warnings and truth about what could go severely wrong and how vaccines are not needed to prevent normal, acute, fully-recoverable febrile illnesses that strengthen your immune system to better protect against things later in life that are deadly - I do it respectfully.  I do not bully, name-call, curse at them, or threaten, or call in meritless complaints against them.

It is to that end that I say, "Houston, we have a problem."

Those of us who have done their research and who do not believe in vaccines (anymore) and who not vaccinate (anymore) are vilified in the most horrific fashion.  Much of that coming directly or indirectly from legislators, physicians, and immunization lobbyist groups.  That must stop.  You cannot bully us into believing your position (your funded by Pharma campaign position) regarding vaccination.  You will never convince us vaccines are safe.  We believed you once, and our children paid the ultimate price of that deception with their health, and for some, with their life.  To make this vaccine choice issue a war, is to create a war that neither side will win because of the carnage that will be left behind on the battlefield.

As I shared, I have dedicated my life to sharing my son's story for the purpose of sharing truth among all the lies.  Vaccine injury is rampant and it is rapidly maiming the health of an entire generation.  When Representatives are using their twitter accounts to call us "Anti-Vaxxers" (again, we did vaccinate our kids) "crazy as fuck" and "playboy bunnies" we have a huge ethics problem.  That is hatred.  That invites hatred and stirs up hatred, and no politician should ever be the one instigating such behavior.  Yet time and time again, those behaviors are coming from those elected to public office.  We are either called names, blocked, or any number of such tactics that are about winning, and winning only, at any cost.  About hiding and blocking the truth at all cost.   The truth that got lost somewhere in the puppet string entanglement of not serving the people who elected you, but rather the pharmaceutical-based campaign contributions that bought your election.

My son and I were the victims recently of that hatred, which brings me to the title of this letter…

The curious incident of the Adult Protective Services visit during the day.

I have done the advocacy I do in sharing my sons story for fifteen years.  I was honored with receiving the Jefferson Award for my advocacy efforts and the contributions I have made in helping fellow parents navigate the minefield that is life with autism (vaccine injury).  I share that only to illustrate that it has been my mission to help my son, fellow parents, and their children. I have been quite vocal in television interviews on Medicaid cuts, school issues for those with special needs, cameras in the classroom, community supports, and so on.   I have been to Washington, D.C. to hearings and to rallies, and have given testimony in Austin on issues related to my sons vaccine injury.

Through all of that, not once has a complaint regarding the care I give my son or the manner in which I share the truth of his story been filed.

But this legislative session, mere days after I recently did a television interview opposing the bill that would allow minors to consent to the HPV vaccine, -  my doorbell rings and when I answer it, it is an officer from Adult Protective Services who is there to follow-up on an anonymous complaint regarding the care of my son.   I cannot begin to tell you how low that is.  That just because of having opposing views, someone feels they can stoop to that level of meritless, baseless accusations using scare tactics to silence those who oppose their views.

Let me make crystal clear that I am not naming anyone by name and not accusing any one person, politician, or group.  That complaint could have had everything to do with that interview against vaccines that I did, and it can have nothing to do with that interview I did.  The person who lodged that complaint hid behind the ability to be able to call in anonymously.  So I don't know who called that in.  But I know when they did and I know why they did.   And even if that complaint did not directly come from a legislator, their office, or a group that supports them, it most certainly came from the hatred stirred by them being so publicly vile against those who  offer an opposing view.  That creates an atmosphere of hate and invites people to stoop to such levels as what happened to me.

If the point of that baseless complaint was regarding the care of my son, allow me to assure every politician, every physician, every group, every person - of the care my vaccine injured son receives.  My family has been forever altered by his vaccine injury.  We have given up everything for him.  We have spent thousands upon thousands of dollars in trying to recover him from those vaccine injuries that mainstream medicine refused to acknowledge let alone pay for.  We sacrificed having a normal family relationship for the care of our son in that my "other" son only ever saw one parent at a time.  He went on vacations with one of us, the other home caring for Brandon.  At his sports events he heard the cheering from only one of us, the other home caring for Brandon.  I gave up the pursuit of my education, my career, many of my hobbies, my everything for the care of my son.  I gave up friendships, date nights, and even the ability to sleep in the same room as my  husband so I could stay upstairs all night with my son should he have a seizure.  We gave up our "other" sons college fund to put toward caring for our vaccine-injured son.  We have given up everything to care for our son and it is a hideous thing for someone to hide behind a phone call to an agency for the sheer purpose of making our life that is harder than any of you could ever imagine, - that much harder.  The only thing I can be accused of regarding the care of my vaccine-injured son is not having enough money to help him more than we already do.  To pay for the things he needs and might greatly benefit from, that insurance won't cover and that we cannot afford.

Yes, whoever called in that complaint, succeeded.  I was scared and shaken to the core.  Check-mark duly placed in the win column for them.  That visit happened during the week that was my son's last day to attend his therapy center because insurance denied our claims, during a week where my son was having numerous seizures, on a day where my son had two seizures.  In having to cope with all of that hardship that is daily life with vaccine injury for so many of us, I had to also deal with a meritless agency visit questioning my care of my son.  Making my burdens heavier.  My stress greater.  All because I dare to share the truth about vaccines.  They succeeded in scaring me. They succeeded in adding to my stress in that now every time my door bell rings I'll wonder if it's another complaint, or worse.  They succeeded in many ways, but they did not succeed in silencing me.  My greatest advocacy and care for my son comes in sharing the truth of what happened to him and I will not be scared into silence.  I owe him more than that no matter what it costs me.  To do any less would be the very abuse and neglect I was accused of.

 If whoever called in that complaint had taken the time they spent digging through my website, my blogs, my facebook, and my twitter account to piece together pictures and videos to try and find some way to incriminate and silence me; and instead actually read what I wrote that went along with those things or researched independent proof of how vaccines never saved us and how they are in fact maiming us, -- they would have actually accomplished something useful with their time in realizing the truth.

A Representative in a tweet recently called us "crazy as fuck."

She is actually partially correct.

I was crazy as fuck for ever consenting to vaccines for my son.

And make no mistake, I will never ever vaccinate myself, or him, again.

It is my body, my choice.

He is my child, and to vaccinate him or not is my choice.

I have read and have the ability to understand medical abstracts and studies.  Most of all, I have this awesome superpower that allows me to follow the money trail of who is telling me vaccines are safe so I can truly know whose science to believe. 

In closing, I deserve to know who called in that merit-less complaint.  The politician who called parents like me "crazy as fuck" and the one who referred to those who are "anti-vax" as "Playboy Bunnies" and anyone else who while serving in public office posts such venom deserves to be reprimanded for instigating such division that leads to the kind of horrific experience that I just had to go through.  That person who submitted that complaint against me did so through Adult Protective Services in Austin.  I ask of legislators, when parents like me are the targets of those public slurs, what agency do we call to lodge a complaint of abuse?  Who knocks on the doors of those politicians to investigate that and reprimand or remove them from public office?  When we feel threatened as I do by baseless, merit-less complaints against us, who protects us from what those with more money and more power than us can make happen to us?  Who investigates the person who called in that anonymous complaint now that it has been found to be without merit?

Who?

Texans, Americans, parents on either side of the vaccine issue, all deserve an honest, open, respectful, public debate on this issue.

Sadly, we are getting neither of those things.

~ ~ ~

And as for my son and that complaint?

Since vaccines have taken away his ability to speak, his story of what happened to him is shared through my words, videos, and pictures.  In this society where what happened to him is ignored and our truth in sharing that dismissed, it's the only way I have to prove that he is here and this is what happened to him because of the callous disregard of those who make vaccines, approve vaccines, mandate vaccines, profit from vaccines, and who bear no liability for vaccines.

It is the CDC who should have received that knock on their door, not me.  



January 26, 2017

Of being betrayed & abandoned on the battlefield...


One week.


As of this writing, that is all the time I have left before the ground once again falls out from under our feet.

The first time it fell out from under our feet was when we received the diagnosis of autism in our son.  The second time was when we realized that it was the vaccines we so diligently gave him on time, every time, that caused that 'autism' he was diagnosed with.  There have been countless times since then that the ground has fallen from under our feet.

  Countless times.


But for this time, this day, the third insurance plan we pay for has just denied authorization for my vaccine-injured son to attend his therapy center.

We have medicaid - it will not pay.

We have private insurance - it will not pay.

We have an Obama-care type plan - it will not pay.

We pay taxes, have money taken out of our paycheck for insurance through my husbands employment, and write an additional check on top of all that.  Three different opportunities to have our sons vaccine injury expenses covered, yet none of them will.

Allow me to stop for a moment and explain the enormity of that for me, and for so many like me...



All we did, was what we were told we should do. We were told "vaccines save lives" and that we needed to vaccinate our children for them to be "healthy" and avoid those "deadly diseases" that would surely kill them or render them maimed for life.  We did what we were told to do, and mandated to do, and our children ended up dead or maimed for life because of the vaccines.  Not because of anything they were vaccinated against, but because of the vaccines they were given.

Can you even comprehend the enormity of that?

I live it, and I can't fully.


The center graciously allowed us to continue attending there through the end of this month. I mean, if I already owe a couple thousand dollars for the time he's already been there this month, what's a few more hundred to just go ahead and finish out the month?

I am sure many are thinking that it's no big deal, that there are other places we could go, and why do we need to be going to a place that we can't afford without insurance?  Simple answer is this: there are no other places and the ones that are there that we could afford, we would rather die than send our children, our adults there.  The level of vaccine injury has necessitated many of our children to receive 1:1 care, assistance, and supervision.  There are simply not enough qualified, competent, affordable places that even remotely fit that bill. The places that are there, to care for and continue to teach our children and help them live as independent a life as possible - are expensive.  Too expensive for most of us to afford or sustain as we come close to retirement ourselves.  Our children are severely injured and they aren't the quick fix that insurance demands they be.  It takes ongoing therapy which is expensive.  Ongoing treatment which is expensive.  Insurance knows that, and that is why they deny services.


Hundreds, if not thousands of parents will be like me when their children are over 21 and they realize there is no where for them to go after public school services end.  Hundreds, if not thousands of parents will be just as devastated as I am today when insurance figures out that our children will need services for life and calculates how much ongoing therapy and services cost and deny the claims.  They, like me, will have the ground fall out from under them yet again.

Parents of children, youth, and adults with autism have been proven by studies to have stress levels equal to that of combat soldiers and are appropriately called "warrior parents." Warrior parents who have been thrust upon a battlefield ill-prepared and ill-equipped to fight a war they did not sign up for, yet who have fought those battles as fiercely and valiantly as possible.  Yet unlike active duty soldiers, we have been left behind on that battlefield.  No one even notices we are gone.  Those who do are the ones who left us there.  They are merely waiting for us to die so we get out of their hair and off their conscience.  Our children "took one for the herd" and have been left dead or dying on that battlefield ever since.  No one in any administration has even thought enough of us to even see that, care about that, or do anything about that.

An entire generation has been left behind.

As the warriors we are, I will take this day after I received that sucker-punch and I will catch my breath and then I will fight that denial with all that is left in me.  But as I sit here and think about how this writing will end with "to be continued" as I await a no-doubt lengthy appeal process, I can't help but think who will be there to continue it after I am gone?  This issue is but one in a vast battalion of issues we must face and fight each and every day...medical treatment, insurance, education, societal discrimination, financial devastation, state services, life after public school, day programs, respite, housing opportunities, and on and on and on...

When?

When will a President finally look out upon this generation of children, adults, and their families scattered about the vaccine injury battlefield and notice us, send reinforcements for us, rescue us?  When will they promise us that we will no longer be left behind on that battlefield bruised, broken, and bleeding?

I sit here at an age where I should be enjoying empty nest.  I should finally be able to go, be, do all that I couldn't all those year that I was busy raising my children.  I should be planning my next girlfriend getaway (who am I kidding, all my girlfriends are in the same boat as me!) but instead as the realization that my son will have no where to go during the day sinks in - I'm trying to figure out how I can even go to the grocery store. Our tag team marriage will now be tag team shifts.  When my husband comes home, I will leave to go do what I need to do.  Even less time to be together than we had before.  More insult to injury.

Each election, we hope, we pray, and we force ourselves to believe that finally someone will see what greed, corruption, and lies have done to our children, to their parents who must forever pick up and try to put back together the pieces vaccines broke, - and think that for once the vaccine industry will be forced to pay for the damages their vaccines caused.

But that hasn't been the case.

The Pharmaceutical/Vaccine industry gets richer and richer because they don't have to pay for their damages, and parents like me get poorer and poorer because we have no choice but to pay for them.  No one else who should, is.

We didn't do anything wrong except trust that the government who gave their word that "vaccines are safe" and that we must vaccinate to "protect the herd" would be there for us if something went wrong.  Would be there to help our children.

We were wrong, and my words of warning to all parents out there is this...


With each continued vaccine injection, comes the very real possibility of a tremendous rejection of treatment, services, insurance coverage, and opportunities for your child as you are forced to fully realize the implication of that "immunization" you allowed.  And unlike the Navy SEAL motto of "The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday" - for you as the parent of a severely vaccine injured child, there will be no easy days.

It is only January and I am already overwhelmed.

This is yet another story to be continued as I wait for a person with a bunch of initials after their name in some insurance company who is sitting behind a desk making a decision about whether or not my son is worthy of receiving the therapy that will help him after it was our very own government hurt him.

I'm not sure whether to laugh, cry, or scream at that.


Dear Mr. President, if you could get started on that vaccine safety commission and help for the vaccine-injured and their families now, that'd be great.

Sincerely,

Michelle M. Guppy

...who was a day late in learning the truth about vaccines and who is a dollar short of being able to fund the lifelong help my son now needs.

January 20, 2017

Vaccines: All the Risks, None of the Benefits


I was honored that my submission was included in the Narrative Inquiry in Bioethics published by Johns Hopkins University Press.

My submission is shared in full below, but most importantly, Ginger Taylor's submission can be read by clicking here...  Ginger Taylor is a powerhouse of truth, and a voice of authority on vaccine injury.  Please read her submission and share it with everyone.

~ ~ ~

NARRATIVE SYMPOSIUM Vaccines: All the Risks, None of the Benefits

Michelle M Guppy 

Narrative Inquiry in Bioethics Call for Stories:

To Vaccinate or Not? Parents’ Stories—

“Regrets from a Recovering Pro-Vaxxer” is my “to vaccinate or not” story.

You asked for true, personal stories from parents about making vaccination decisions for their children. I guess where my story begins is at that time, as a young mother in the 90’s, it really wasn’t a decision to make. I didn’t know there was anything I needed to further research to decide regarding vaccination. I did not have any reason to question vaccines. “Vaccination” was a non-issue in that I never read or heard from anyone anything about vaccination, pro, con, or otherwise.

All I knew was what my Pediatrician told me, and even then, it was not what I know today as “informed consent”—it was more, “you are at so and so visit (2, 4, 6 month, etc.) and here is what your baby will be getting, sign this . . .” That was all I knew of vaccination. It wasn’t a “decision” it was something you just did. I didn’t know about any adverse reactions other than the benign things listed on the consent form the office gave me. A form that I now know was vastly different than the “informed consent” form that is wrapped around the vaccine vial that the manufacturer must include by law, but that parents like me never saw, or knew to ask to see. I didn’t know about the vaccine ingredients (they weren’t listed on their form) and I certainly didn’t know the odds of my son getting what I was vaccinating against vs. the incredible odds of him having a chronic, debilitating, life altering and life–long adverse vaccine reaction.

Perhaps most horrifically, I didn’t know that not once in the United States were vaccines studied done to show outcomes in vaccinated vs. unvaccinated children to answer the question, “Who is healthier?”—that would have been good to have had on the consent forms. I further didn’t know that vaccines were never studied when given in combination as my sons were. I didn’t know that vaccines were not tested against a true placebo as every other drug is required to be. I didn’t know that no one but me would be responsible for any and all adverse vaccine reactions. I didn’t know the contraindications of vaccines. I didn’t know the scope of what vaccine reactions were. So very much was left off that “consent” form! I essentially didn’t know anything about vaccinations when I “decided” to have my son vaccinated! Knowing what I know now, in having an adult son severely injured by adverse vaccine reactions, I would never recommend anyone to vaccinate their child. Knowing what I know now, if I could go back and do it all again, I would never, ever vaccinate my children.

Those who make, mandate, and profit from vaccination have severe conflicts of interest and anything they share or assure regarding vaccines fall on deaf ears of those who know better, those who have since done their own independent research. I would rather take my chances on acute, benign, fully recoverable typical childhood illnesses that strengthen the immune system, over the chronic, lifelong, debilitating disorders that have weakened my son for life. Where once he could say words, smile, interact—he now cannot read, write, or speak and will need 1:1 assistance and lifelong care. All to prevent a weak case of: chicken pox? Measles? The flu? Vaccine policy is not about health; it is about profit and convenience. It would be easier to not be inconvenienced by missed school or missed work— so instead many have bought into the lie of artificial immunity—that is anything but “immunity”. I can speak with authority as a parent on this because I have lived both sides. Between my husband and I, we have had chicken pox, measles, and mumps. We are in our 50’s, healthy, and are on no medication. We had a total of five vaccines in our life. My son who has had the recommended dozens, is sick with seizures, autoimmune disease, mitochondrial dysfunction, gastrointestinal disease, allergies, and on no less than 10–15 medications and supplements just to keep him alive. I am pressured each time I go to the doctor’s office for vaccine upon vaccine, for my vaccine–injured son.

It is oppressive what parents are forced or bribed or threatened into doing with vaccination. It is a constant fear for me. There is no way I will ever consent to any further vaccination for my son, yet I feel one day there won’t be a choice and my already vaccine–injured son will be further injured with no recourse. It is not so much what I wish those who disagree with me should know about my views on vaccination—it is that they need to live a day in the life of my son who must now live with severe vaccine injury. Watch him have leaky gut episode after episode. Watch his lips turn blue from yet another seizure. Ride with me in the ambulance as we rush to the emergency room for x–rays from yet another broken bone from yet another seizure. See the pictures of who he was and imagine the future he had before vaccines and then change his adult diaper—this is who he became after vaccine reactions, which is someone who never played little league t–ball. Someone who never played cowboys and Indians with his friends. Someone who never had a crush on a girl, a date to the prom, a first kiss. Someone who will never drive a car. Someone who will never provide us with empty nest, a daughter-in-law, or grandchildren.

 I could provide independent proof upon proof of how unsafe and unsound vaccines are. But more than that, I wanted to convey those things that can’t be quantified in the cost of vaccine policy. The loss of milestones. All for the possibility of maybe avoiding chicken pox? I think what would help resolve the controversy is sharing those things like our story that you never hear on the news, in research journals. Stories that www.vaxxed.com are sharing from parents all across America. Hundreds and thousands of stories from parents who watched their children become maimed for life by adverse vaccine reactions. The “RIP” stories of those who have lost their babies after vaccination and have had it called “SIDS” when in fact, it was not SIDS, it was “vaccine injury” from being given multiple vaccines containing multiple neurotoxins at once. Countless stories of how lives have been maimed all for the sake of preventing a possible outbreak that would be benign at best. How many in any of those outbreaks in the last decade have died vs. how many vaccinated for that illness have died? The reality of that is sobering. Sickening for those who care to truly grasp it and not just profit from it.

For me, and what I’ve seen in how my sons life, and ours, was forever altered, it’s just not worth it. I would beg of any parent to believe the thousands of us on that. It isn’t worth it. The risk is too great. That is the decision you must make with the information and truth available today. Is vaccination worth it? My answer is a resounding no. Especially in light of how most outbreaks today began with a fully vaccinated individual or one shedding the live virus from being recently vaccinated. The vaccine policy has been weighed and measured with our son, and we have come to the overwhelming conclusion that with vaccination you get all of the risk and none of the intended benefit.

We will never, ever vaccinate again.

Narrative Inquiry in Bioethics Volume 6.3 (2016) E1-E8
c 2016 by Johns Hopkins University Press

December 9, 2016

My Mighty Morphin' Power Moves...


So today an e-mail from Amazon came across my inbox.  It was an e-mail asking me to rate a recent purchase I made...  I was about to delete it, as thinking about why I ordered this particular gift for someone brought on negative vibes that I have been trying to put in the past...  But as I was about to hit "delete" I could hear that marvelously michevious grinchy-grinch humor rumbling from that sweet spot of sarcasm that often saves my sanity.

So I rated the item.  My reply too long to share there, so I shall share it here....

I gave it five stars.

I ordered this particular item in response to a twenty-something year old who in all his wisdom of those twenty-something sheltered years, thought he was justified in sending me an e-mail outlining how "no one likes me" and "nice power move" in response to me challenging a family member on blatant lies spoken against me.  Mind you the e-mail he was replying to was not addressed to him, but the master manipulative party it was addressed to, saw fit to send it to everyone for the purpose of getting people to "no one likes me".

I choose to polish the mental toughness I must have to survive vaccine injury and all the horrific seizures that come with that, -- by humor.

I was going to buy this "gift" for that particular person who I would have thought knew better than to do that to us, Todd and I, who have done nothing but love and support him...  Who we have included in family gatherings as if he were our own son.  Who we have shared our precious time with Matt with so that all could be with him --when all we wanted was to have our son all to ourselves.  So much for thinking of others.  What is that saying?  "No good deed goes unpunished?"  But I digress....   What an "power move" that was in loving and including someone who would turn on us for a baseless reason, a reason not his own, but of what others shared with him about us.

His words "nice power move" stuck in my head and made me think of Power Rangers.  So I went to Amazon in search of a "Power Ranger" to send to him for Christmas as a reminder of me and my many "power moves".  To give him one final "Power Move" because after all, if I'm going to be accused of these "power moves" then I might as well do one to deserve the accusation!  I even had a great caption for the gift tag, "Because I'm all about those Power Moves."  Yellow isn't really my color, but sometimes you have to go with what you've got, and it was either yellow or pink, and I do not do pink.  Shudder.

But, I'm not going to send it to him.

I think the realization one day of what he's done will be enough.  And even if he never realizes that and continues to ignore us for no reason, that is on him.  Not us.  This "Power Ranger" sitting on my desk has been great therapy in teaching me that.  Not a bad lesson for $18 and free prime two-day shipping.

Instead my "power move" will be to pray for him.
Pray that he never has to understand what it is to truly be ignored.  In having a son who was maimed by vaccines and who has been ignored by society, by doctors, by our government.  For us to have lived that for so very many isolated years - to have had so many needs ignored by insurance, by state services, for some by their very church - and then to have someone "ignore" us further?

It's hard to even be mad at someone who is that shallow.

I think the best test of your sanity is when you can look at an insane situation and laugh.  Truly realize it's not you, it's them.  When you can look at a situation and know that it's not about who is right or wrong, it is about what is best for you and your sanity.  And for us, and our sanity, it is best for us to move on believing in what Maya Angelou says, "When people show you who they really are, believe them."

Love them...

Forgive them...

But believe them...


It took a long time and many repeated hurts and manipulations to believe that in those who are supposed to be closest to us.  I believe we are better than that and that we have so many around us who love us and believe in us and who would be there for us through calm or conflict.  Those are the people who we choose to invest in.

I watched a movie recently that had a very profound line in it.  "You know you are over being hurt when you have an opportunity for revenge and do not take it."

This Power Ranger figurine was my opportunity for revenge.  I had it all wrapped and ready to mail...

But I didn't.

It sits on my desk as a reminder of my true "power moves" that he nor those who have manipulated him against us will ever be able to fathom.



The power moves of forgiveness.  Of truth.  Of understanding conflict and how to deal with it and work through it.  Of loyalty.  Of love.  Of what a true family is and how a real family should treat each other.  I don't say it often enough, but it is my husband and his parents who have taught me that.  There has been conflict but there has always been love and working through it.

Especially as a warrior mom, the power moves of enduring the unendurable.  Of having no choice but to bear the unbearable.  Oh how I wish I could quit on my son like they have quit on us!  But because my son cannot quit his autism and the life it forces him to live, we cannot and will not ever quit on him.  There are way too many out there who do not comprehend that in any way, shape, or form and that is the greatest tragedy of all.  To not truly know what unselfish love is.  To not truly understand what it means to not quit, but to stay, stand firm, and fight for what you love, for what you believe in.  It is so easy to quit and walk away and that is what he has done.  It is he who that "power move" will bite in the ass one day down the line.  Team Guppy has learned the hard way that life is measured by how you act and what you do during the not-so-easy times.  When those around us have long since gone, here we will remain, marching on.

Our "power moves" are measured by the words HOPEISMNot Dead Can't Quit, Be Brave, and Never Quit!

Our power moves are in how we pursue truth and have pursued a relationship despite all the roadblocks.

But I've come to realize that our greatest power move is in moving on.

In not letting that which we can't control, --influence us, consume us, change us, or define us.

In not continuing to expose ourselves to the bullets that continue to pierce.

So yes, Amazon review folks, I give this "Power Ranger" 5 stars and 2 Guppy fins way up.

I would highly recommend it to anyone who needs healing in the face of false persecution.


It will sit on my desk as a reminder to make each day a positive power move in being thankful for those in your life who love you so much they would pursue you from hell to HOPEISM and back again!

#HOOYAH


July 5, 2016

The Crazy, Mad, Wonderful...


The crazy, mad, wonderful world of being a warrior mom... That should be the title of the book so many tell me I must write about our "Life with Autism, Seizures, and a side of Chaos..." There have been many titles I've thought of using over the years. I think my favorite is still "There's Poop Floating in my Tub: and other Oddities of Life with Autism." We certainly have experienced enough of those oddities to fill an entire book series. But I digress --
The crazy, mad, wonderful world of being a warrior mom --- is that as I sit here -- I've waited an entire year for this year's opportunity for four nights and days of respite. Sweet, blissful, respite. Oh, we occasionally get a break - at least 3-4 days a week he goes to his therapy program. Once a quarter or slightly more often we actually get a few hours respite on an evening or weekend day. But for overnight respite. For 4 nights and 4 days. That is sheer luxury. It's like, well, what typical families can have anytime they want. Their typical kids going to another typical friends house for a sleepover. Going to Grandma's for a week. Luxuries. Those things are luxuries. The parents who can take advantage of those things are soiled rotten with extravagance. And for the next four nights and four days, I get to be them. I've longed for this day. Camp Day. I've counted down. I've wished it was sooner. More often. But as is always the case, on this day I am not filled with the sweet decadence of no worries, but rather the bitter taste of what if. I mean, when the phone rings with my typical son at someone's house or Grandma's it will be about those silly things typical boys do that a stern threat will thwart the continuation of. If the phone rings while Brandon is at camp -- he's either had a seizure and a bad fall, or they've lost him. Hence the "OMG-when-will-camp-start?" and then the "OMG-how-can-I-leave-him-there!" Just this morning - his incessant humming for the last two days has me at the point where Todd needs to hide the ice pick so I don't use it to gouge my ear drums out. I literally cannot will the clock to move fast enough forward to peel out of my driveway and be the first in line at the camp gate to honk the horn in cadence with Brandon's humming until they come get him and I can leave skid marks leaving camp. But as I feel the sweet relief of writing that - I know that once there I will linger. I will grill his counselor in testing him to make sure he read my twelve page "Caring for Brandon" document that is highlighted and referenced. (Ok, maybe not twelve pages and maybe not referenced, but it is four pages long and there are highlighted parts.) I will cry. I will regret wanting to leave him so badly. And I will cry some more as all of my fears will scroll through my mind. What if he wanders off. What if they don't feed him enough. What if they don't do his supplements right. What if he wanders off. What if he's cold at night. What if his counselor actually dares to sleep and Brandon is wet. He has a seizure. As much as I want to take him, I don't want to leave him. All of my hopes and fears in my life with autism and seizures summed up in that sentence. I think perhaps for me the only reason I can actually leave him and drive away with tears streaming down my face, is because I know I must. This camp each year, prepares me, and him, for what will come one day when I am no longer here. I will have to trust. Brandon will have to adapt. And it reminds me that all I truly have control over is my HOPEISM. In believing in prayer. HOPEISM that the heart of all who are part of Camp Blessing, TX is the heart of all who will be caring for him when I am no longer here. Prayer that his counselor, his caregiver for the week is someone who is given supernatural ability to endure. To understand Brandon. To persevere. Someone who is superhuman and needs no sleep for the next four nights. Prayer that God will give him an autism-free, seizure-free week. Prayer that he won't wander off or fall down. Peace to know that it will be ok. As I sit here with his bags packed, his supplement suitcase packed, the forms filled out and the car loaded as if we were moving out of the country - I'd like to think that this fifth year of Camp Blessing, TX for us will be easier. I mean, we are veterans at this. But it's not. It never gets easy. Autism doesn't give you that luxury. All I have is the fact that our life with autism is in fact a crazy, mad, sometimes wonderful life that has landed us somewhere between the sacred and mundane but always, always, right smack in the middle of where our faith that it will all be ok meets with God's faithfulness that it will indeed, be ok.