A small alarm bell went off in my head. Autistic children typically didn't show any facial emotion. That was one of the early warning signs of autism.
"Kevin wasn't born autistic?" I asked.
Anna uttered a small "No!" Accompanied by negative shake of her head.
"What happened to him?"
She began her story again, "As children the process is begun. We're told the doctor knows what he's doing. Just trust him and everything will be all right. He's been trained to do his job by the best schools in the world and he has your best interests at heart. For some in the medical profession that may be true, but not all by far. Some only have their own interests at heart. In nursing school we were trained to think much the same as we were as children only there they did admit that doctors can make mistakes, but that it was the duty of the nurse to help cover up those mistakes, because the good things a doctor could achieve would far outweigh any negative side effects he might incur in the short term. I actually believed that stuff! I did everything that my nurse's training had laid the groundwork for me to do with my own child. I took him to all his doctor appointments. I started his doctor recommended vaccination schedule at birth, because it was the established time honored thing to do in America that every child needs his shots. In fact in this country it's almost mandatory, because vaccination shots are one of those testaments of human achievement that separate this nation from the dirt and squalor of third world nations, supposedly!"
She didn't know it but her voice had gone up several octaves and she was hitting my knee in time with her impassioned words.
"I followed the vaccination schedule to eighteen months and did all that the doctor recommended. I even gave Kevin flu shots. I dutifully presented him and stood by as he screamed as they injected him with the poisons that were meant to keep him free from disease. Why? Because I was a good mother and I trusted that the doctor knew best!"
She slammed my need hard enough to hurt with the utterance of 'best', but I didn't say anything. She was crying now and her head was no longer resting on my thigh, but instead she seemed to be staring out into space, as if she was still seeing something occur in the past.
"His eighteen month checkup." She choked out with great effort.
"More shots to complete his schedule so he could be like all the other properly managed little boys in the country. In particular he was there for his MMR shot. Do you know what that is Tyre?" She half screamed at me and I just shook my head no, remaining quiet.