Medicaid Is Life for My Autistic Son
Medicaid is life for my mostly non-speaking autistic adult son. Cutting it would remove the very services that make his beautiful, interdependent life possible.
Medicaid is life for my mostly non-speaking autistic adult son. Cutting it would remove the very services that make his beautiful, interdependent life possible.
Recently my teen autistic son and I walked around a fancy shopping center, while his sibling was at a nearby appointment (public strolls are not always something he can do, but that day he was up for it). We ambled past the coin collector’s shop and the jodhpurs boutique, then popped into the housewares store—just
We’ve all heard or experienced horror stories about accessing services and supports. Often the idea of receiving services for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities (I/DD), including autism, conjures up images of institutions—visions of Willowbrook. Or, ideas of what is “optimal” for us look like segregated lives, or “intentional” communities where the true intent is
Decades of research shows that people with disabilities living in the community make more choices for ourselves, have a better quality of life, are safer and more included in our communities, live longer, and maintain and develop more skills—and this is true regardless of how disabled a person is or how intense our needs are.