Nothing with my gorgeous boy is ever simple.

Adam has been at home since Tuesday and it is now Friday. This is because his residential school does not have air con, while after a fashion, I do.

For those of you who do not know, the UK is currently in the middle of a record breaking heatwave, with temperatures in some areas up to 36-37 degrees Celsius, which is highly unusual here. We do not have the infrastructure to deal with it, and a vast majority of building do not have aircon and are also constructed to keep heat in – based on our usual climate – and not to keep it out. This means that for most of us, there is no relief and the temperatures are a genuine risk to life. Yes, we know other countries routinely get these temperatures and higher (including where I grew up) but it truly hits differently here – and I speak from experience.

So, for a child who not only has asthma but is also significantly affected by changes in temperature, more likely to become entirely and violently overwhelmed and literally unable to mentally process in the heat, I therefore drove over to collect him and, in an effort to protect both his breathing and sensory regulation, I received permission to have him at home until the heat breaks. My air con is not perfect, I have three freestanding units in the lounge, kitchen and one bedroom respectively, they just have hoses stuck out the window and I have covered the remaining openings with bubble wrap. All the other rooms are still boiling hot and even the rooms containing these units are only temperate, but not cool. However, it is better than nothing.

For the most part Adam has been quite content. He likes school and he also likes home: ‘Adam and Mummy, happy home!’ is a usual phrase as is, ‘Adam and mummy, staying together!’ He doesn’t understand that I may need more sleep than he does and that it takes a lot of work to meet his needs. I adore him, and I am only one person, with my own serious health needs. But I will do whatever it takes to protect my child, they don’t call me Mama Bear for nothing.

However, by this morning, I had run out of some of his medication and also his special menu of foods. I was going to take him to the grocery store to stock up, but school staff also kindly volunteered to drive over and drop off more meds enroute on a trip for some other pupils. I knew that I we had gone to collect meds, this would have sent Adam over the edge as he would not have been able to understand, so I was grateful for this offer.

I then explained to Adam that his teacher was bringing some meds but Adam was staying home and Adam and mummy were staying together. I repeated this three times. He grew restless and a bit agitated, but seemed ok…..until I opened the door to staff and hooooooohhhh boy….my gorgeous Dr Jekyll became Mr Hyde.

He screamed. He sobbed. Toys flew at speed. The dog ran away, tail between his legs … I’ll spare you the details, but it wasn’t pretty. This is what we usually describe as ‘a crisis’ in autism world. He could not process or understand why his teacher was standing in the living room, with a bus outside, and he was instantly convinced that she had come to take him back.

I need to be clear that this is not a reflection on the school, because Adam loves it there. He enjoys his class, he likes the staff, he is settled in the residence. This is not a reflection on not wanting to be there at all. What it does represent is one of his many known struggles – Adam cannot cope easily with ‘transitions’, as in transition from one place to another, one person to another. If a person shows up in a place where they should not be, he perceives that they do not ‘fit’ and so he cannot process this and his behaviour shows his confusion and distress. When Adam used to live with me full time, we both endured this every single day – leaving the house was a challenge, arriving at school was a challenge, returning home was a challenge. One the transition was complete and he had settled – much like dropping a young child off at nursery – then he would be fine, but the cross over in between was always…difficult.

So too was today. Adam likes his teacher. His teacher knows him very well and is altogether a wonderful human being. But his teacher does not ‘fit’ at home. His teacher ‘belongs’ at school. So he rapidly entered crisis.

On my knees, I attempted to reassure Adam, as did his teacher, she repeated that she was saying ‘Bye bye Adam! I am going now!’ And, after signing for his medication, and checking that I was ok, she did indeed leave. But then the anger of immediate crisis turned to sobs of distress as Adam wailed and cried to demonstrate that he didn’t understand. He paced the house. He tried to tell the dog he was being naughty (which the dog was not) and the process of calming took a long time and all of my skill.

We read his favourite calming book, ‘No Matter What’ by Deb Gliori, which says in part, “Small was feeling grim and dark, playing toss and fling and squash, yell and scream and bang and crash. Break and snap and bash and batter….” As the story continues, “Large” assures “Small” that, “Grumpy or not, I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

As I read this favourite, reassuring story, I could feel the tense muscles in his body start to loosen. He was able to slightly relax into my cuddle, instead of holding himself apart from me, and the wails became moans, became muttering ‘vocalisations’. Eventually, I switched on ‘The Snowman’ on tv, as another calming favourite because it has no words, only music and gentle images so there is very little for Adam to need to process.

Eventually, a cool drink and a snack and the process was nearly complete. Even now, two hours later, he is still more agitated than I would like, there are more vocalisations, more stimming style movement and I cannot ask anything of him, normal boundaries are being relaxed to mean that he can use all three of his iPads at once, something that is normally limited to one. And no, we are not going to the grocery store today, pizza delivery it was for everyone’s safety – mine, his and that of other people.

None of this is ideal, but it is all very familiar and reminds me of why Adam needs his residential placement at all. I do adore him, and I am only one person. I cannot be this vigilant round the clock, I cannot meet his needs entirely alone. Now that he is six feet tall and an adult weight, I cannot safely contain him when the physical aggression hits (something that thankfully was only meted out to his toys today). He loves being at home and I love having my child at home….for a visit. But he cannot stay because it would not be safe for either of us.

For now though, while the UK feels hotter than the surface of the sun, here he will remain. For all these things, there is coffee….