Isaac hits the road.

Abstract

I had not seen Isaac in a while. Severe neurodevelopmental difficulties had made themselves known early in his life. In recent years, Isaac's placid nature had steadily given way to a more agitated state. As a burly teenager, without the power of spoken language, and an increasingly apparent sensitivity to all manner of stimuli and situations, this spelled trouble. Isaac's go-to method to communicate his discomfort was to lash out physically. Towards others. Towards himself. Forcefully. Frequently. Unpredictably. Isaac's world had contracted. Home, school, home again. Family outings beyond this limited arc had become untenable. There had been conversations between us in the past about the adjunctive role that medication might one day play, if required. Isaac's parents had done much to mitigate the need up until now. I had no doubt they would continue to explore multiple ways of assisting their son. They certainly had not been pushing for a psychopharmacological debut. It appeared, however, that now would be as good a time as any. We discussed a judicious trial of a carefully selected agent. We were clear about the ultimate purpose. Not to ‘keep him quiet’……this notion being as abhorrent to myself as it is to Isaac's parents. Instead, a positive, solution-focused goal; to assist Isaac to keep his overwhelming emotions in check, thus allowing him to get out and about once more. To help Isaac expand his horizons. A few weeks later, in a telehealth check-in, an aura of cautious optimism. So far so good. Our next appointment, after the school holidays, was conducted in the office. Isaac arrived with a broad grin on his face, the likes of which I had not previously witnessed. He was still excitable, tapping on my desk like a bongo drum, though without the palpable angst and physical threat that had characterised recent consultations. In the midst of my follow-up questioning, Isaac's dad casually volunteered that things had been going so well, the family had seized the moment, and undertaken ‘a little holiday drive’. A day trip to the Sunshine Coast? A jaunt to Toowoomba during the Carnival of Flowers? As lovely as these outings undoubtedly are, Isaac's parents had dreamed bigger. They turned out of the driveway of their Brisbane home, hit the highway, and kept on going, all the way to Port Douglas, a mere 1700-plus kilometres away. Isaac embraced the journey in full. On parental rating of adaptability, he left his siblings in the shade. The further north they travelled, the more emboldened Isaac's family became. Side adventures were added. A cable car ride to the edge of the Atherton Tablelands, gazing down upon emerald rainforest and the wildness of the Barron Gorge. The reverse journey by rail, with its meandering decline, and an eye-level view of the precious ecosystem. A boat cruise on the sparkling waters inside the Great Barrier Reef. Plans were already in place for the next trip. Heading south this time. It is about the same distance to Melbourne. Why not?! I will never know exactly why Isaac was so obviously happy that day. Perhaps he was recalling a flash of azure, as a Ulysses butterfly weaved its way through the native ginger and fan palms in Kuranda. The soothing, other-worldly chorus of the Torres Strait pigeons, roosting in the trees along the Cairns Esplanade. The feel of tropical ocean spray on his face. Above all, I like to think he was still carrying with him the joy of being somewhere different and beautiful, in the company of his beloved family.