|
Autism now diagnosed
early
By Kim Painter, Special for USA TODAY
Two-year-old Nathan Katzman seemed different "from the moment
he was born," says his mom, Nicole. "Looking back, I think it
was something about eye contact."
Dad Gary agrees: "Instead of looking at us,
it was like he was looking through us."
The unsettling signs kept coming. "You'd call
his name and get no reaction," says Gary, a Lincoln, R.I.,
cardiologist. "We'd play little baby games — going 'goo, goo, goo'
and get no reaction."
When Nathan had no words, or even any
babbling that resembled words, several months after his first
birthday, his parents really started to worry. They thought their
son might be deaf. He wasn't.
Instead, he was diagnosed with autism, making
him one of an apparently growing number of autistic children
diagnosed as toddlers.
His parents hope early diagnosis and therapy
will make all the difference. And experts say it just might: "You
can make a huge difference if you get there early," says Amy
Wetherby, an expert in communication disorders at Florida State
University-Tallahassee.
People with autism and related disorders,
sometimes called autism spectrum disorders or ASD, have trouble
communicating, lack appropriate social skills and display unusual,
repetitive behaviors. Many are mentally retarded. But the severity
and exact mix of problems vary enormously. While some autistic
children never speak or learn basic self-care, others grow up to
lead independent lives.
And because the exact nature of ASD can be
hard to pinpoint in young children, many doctors have been reluctant
to label toddlers. Studies suggest the average age of diagnosis in
the USA has been about 3½, Wetherby says.
But that seems to be changing. One reason is
that parents and pediatricians are becoming more aware of autism. At
the same time, researchers are learning more about the earliest
signs and gaining confidence in the value of early, intense
therapies that systematically teach children everything from eye
contact to play skills to conversational techniques.
Not all children respond, but for many, the
therapies can raise IQs, improve communication and social skills and
lessen the need for special education.
And that's in children identified between
ages 3 and 5. Researchers hope they will do even better with
children found earlier.
"Early detection means earlier access to
intervention during sensitive periods of brain development," says
Rebecca Landa, a speech pathologist who leads an autism study center
at the Kennedy Krieger Institute in Baltimore. The institute is one
of eight centers just awarded grants by the National Institutes of
Health as part of a $65 million, five-year effort to address a
rising tide of autism.
While autism was once thought rare, recent
government studies found ASD in 3 in 1,000 children around Atlanta
and almost 7 in 1,000 children in Brick Township, N.J. A recent
California study found a doubling of childhood autism cases in just
four years.
Whether the increases are real or the product
of better diagnosis is unclear.
Whatever the case, there is no blood test or
brain scan that can diagnose autism at any age. Instead, doctors
must rely on behavior. And, in the past, they often didn't know what
to look for in very young children.
That's where the work of Landa, Wetherby and
other researchers comes in. For the past couple of years, Landa has
been tracking a group of infants and toddlers who have siblings with
autism. Previous, anecdotal reports suggest up to 10% of these
children will be autistic, too.
So Landa is finding repeat cases among her
subjects and collecting data on how affected children differ from
unaffected children at the earliest ages.
Meanwhile, Wetherby has been screening
thousands of Florida toddlers, looking for telltale signs in those
later diagnosed with ASD and other developmental problems.
Both researchers say they now can spot
virtually any child with ASD by 2 years old — and some much earlier.
How early? While no one would diagnosis a
6-month-old with autism, warning signs can appear by then, Landa
says. A typical 6-month-old, she says, has a rich social repertoire.
"If I make a face, they'll laugh," she says.
"If I babble and then am quiet and let the baby know I'm just
waiting, the baby will vocalize. That's turn-taking. That's a
mini-conversation. ... They might not do it every time, but they
should do it often."
A baby headed for autism, she says, often
lacks that basic ability to connect. And there may be other signs.
For example, instead of burbling and babbling with a variety of
sounds, a baby in trouble may produce nothing but high-pitched
squeals. By 14 months, she says, the signs can be quite clear.
"What you really want to look for is an
integrated social approach ... eye contact, a smile, combined with
some kind of social bid." A typical child, she says, can use
gestures, sounds and facial expressions to ask an adult to look at
something, get something or play a game — and can read those cues in
others. An autistic child might point, use words or make eye contact
but lacks the total communication package, she says.
Wetherby agrees. She says she worries when
any child over age 1 can't coordinate gaze, facial expression,
gestures and sounds into a smooth communicative approach.
Joy and Daniel Johnson of Elkridge, Md., know
the signs too well. Their 3-year-old son, James, who had speech
delays and other signs, was diagnosed with autism at about 28
months. Now, their 18-month-old son, John, "is not talking at all,"
Joy Johnson says. "And he really doesn't have any eye contact. When
you call his name, he very rarely turns around."
John also likes to throw toys and repeatedly
open and close doors. Most distressingly, says Joy, "he doesn't
express his wants and needs in any shape or form" except crying.
But, through Landa's study, John was
diagnosed early and already is getting speech and occupational
therapy. Soon, he will begin a therapy called floor time, in which
parents and therapists get down on the floor with a child and follow
his lead to draw him out and get him communicating.
"John has not totally shut himself off from
the world yet," his mother says. "We need to take this opportunity
to get him to open his door."
Of course, most parents don't have a top
researcher monitoring their children's development. They depend on
neighborhood pediatricians, nurses and preschool teachers. And many
professionals still don't recognize early signs or appreciate the
value of early treatment, say autism treatment advocates.
"Often parents will express a concern and
they'll hear, 'Oh, don't worry. ... Einstein was a late talker,' "
says Nancy Wiseman, president of First Signs Inc., an organization
she founded to promote early identification of autism and other
developmental disorders.
Wiseman, of Merrimac, Mass., has a 7-year-old
daughter who was diagnosed with ASD at 26 months and underwent
intensive treatment. Although Sarah has some problems with
attention, mood and speech, she attends a regular first grade and is
"very social, very gregarious, very bright," Wiseman says. Without
early treatment, she says, "my child would have been lost to me."
To give other families the same opportunity,
Wiseman, a former corporate communications executive, has put
together a kit that gives doctors tips for fitting developmental
screening into busy practices. The kit also contains a video with
footage of typical toddlers and those showing signs of trouble.
After a trial mailing to doctors in New
Jersey, Wiseman is working with health officials in Minnesota to
train doctors, nurse practitioners, educators and others to
recognize children at risk. She hopes to launch a nationwide
campaign.
That means that, eventually, even more
parents will start their battle with autism early. They will have no
guarantees of success. But they will have hope.
Nathan, now 2½, is "starting to come around a
little bit," says Gary Katzman. "Sometimes he sounds like he's
saying something."
But Nathan also still screams when he is
frustrated, spins in circles to entertain himself and bangs toy cars
against the wall instead of playing with them.
Katzman says he fantasizes that maybe Nathan
will grow up to be "just a little strange" but able to function in
the world. But he can also imagine a future in which his son "never
really talks and is always the way he is now, infantile."
"That's what kills me," he says. "I just have
no idea." |