03-26-2006, 01:18 PM
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/longis...-headlines
Finally, help for their girl
Roslyn Heights parents whose teen receives shock therapy at Rotenberg say center gave them hope
BY JENNIFER SINCO KELLEHER
Newsday Staff Writer
March 26, 2006
Marcia Shear first sensed that her daughter Samantha existed in her own world one day 12 years ago when she walked into her nursery and saw the toddler wildly flapping her arms and staring hard at nothing.
"She was looking at something that wasn't there. .. ." Shear recalled. "I knew in my heart something was up."
Samantha is now 13. She lives at the Judge Rotenberg Center in Massachusetts, 200 miles from her family's Roslyn Heights home. The school has been the center of controversy since a Freeport woman said she planned to sue her school district for sending her son to Rotenberg, where mild electric shock is used to control the behavior of profoundly troubled children. State education authorities also have expressed concern that too many disabled New York students are being sent to out-of-state schools.
No matter the distance or criticisms about the treatment at Rotenberg, Marcia and Mitchell Shear say they believe the school represents the last and best hope for their daughter.
For years, they endured Samantha's puzzling violence against others and watched helplessly as she repeatedly slammed her hands against the side of her head.
Even with the help of Rotenberg, Marcia Shear said the most she can envision for her daughter is that one day she can live in a group home with others like her, working a simple job like stuffing envelopes.
Troubling signs
Samantha Jill Shear was 15 months old when her mother noticed the odd staring. Other troubling signs emerged. Samantha often threw herself against the bars of her crib, and she never seemed able to fully sit up in her high chair.
At 3, she was diagnosed with autism, a developmental disorder whose symptoms include verbal difficulties and social withdrawal.
There have been years of speech and physical therapies, antidepressants and psychotropic drugs. Samantha pinched, hit and scratched her parents, her brothers, her therapists and strangers.
She struck her head with her hands 60 times a minute with such force that she started going bald and dislocated her retinas. After seven surgeries, she can see better now but will eventually require eyeglasses.
Samantha's parents and her twin brothers, Gary and Adam, now 14, grew resigned to her outbursts, keeping a close eye so she wouldn't rip down the window blinds again.
"We became prisoners of our own home," said Mitchell Shear, a physician specializing in internal medicine and geriatrics who practices in the Bronx.
Very few options
At about 3, Samantha enrolled at Developmental Disabilities Institute in Medford. The staff there recommended an upstate placement for Samantha, because no local residential schools could handle her.
"I was like, 'No, absolutely not,'" Marcia Shear said. "I wanted her here."
But there seemed to be no other options, and at the age of 11, Samantha was enrolled in the Anderson School in Staatsburg, about two hours away.
For the first time, the Shears were at home without her, and Marcia Shear experienced mixed emotions. She felt guilt, but also relief.
"I thought, 'Oh my God, oh my God, what did I do?'" she said. "But part of me was, 'Wow, now I have a life.'"
She realized more than ever the toll Samantha's care had taken on the family. Before Samantha went to Anderson, their mother "would be in the therapy room [in the house] with Sam for hours on end," Gary Shear said. "I would be in front of the TV watching videos, bored out of my mind."
"Really? Is that true?" Marcia Shear interrupted with a gasp. "I feel so guilty."
Naturally, the family missed the brown-eyed girl, who loved to bop to all kinds of music from Barney songs to James Taylor.
They longed for the affection she showed, those fleeting moments when she reveled in hugs and tickles.
School brings hope
Eventually, the staff at Anderson said they could do nothing more for Samantha, and more than 10 rejections later - other schools shied from her self-abusive behavior - Rotenberg accepted her last year.
Mitchell Shear said that as a doctor, he felt comfortable with Rotenberg's aversion therapy. He understood its distinction from electro-convulsive therapy, for which patients are anesthetized. "This was drastically different, and it was a relief after nothing else worked," he said. "We had some hope."
After just a week of the treatment, Samantha stopped hurting herself and others. She's now off medication and only gets shocked about twice a week.
"She just changed drastically," said Samantha's brother, Gary.
The Shears travel with the boys to Rotenberg every six weeks, and they telephone Samantha every other day.
"I would visit her once a week if I could. She's my baby," her mother said. "But she has to be there. There's no other choice."
Samantha is now able to say phrases such as "I want cookie." She loves touching the hair on her dolls, watching the scrolling words at the bottom of television newscasts and going on short car rides.
Copyright 2006 Newsday Inc.
Finally, help for their girl
Roslyn Heights parents whose teen receives shock therapy at Rotenberg say center gave them hope
BY JENNIFER SINCO KELLEHER
Newsday Staff Writer
March 26, 2006
Marcia Shear first sensed that her daughter Samantha existed in her own world one day 12 years ago when she walked into her nursery and saw the toddler wildly flapping her arms and staring hard at nothing.
"She was looking at something that wasn't there. .. ." Shear recalled. "I knew in my heart something was up."
Samantha is now 13. She lives at the Judge Rotenberg Center in Massachusetts, 200 miles from her family's Roslyn Heights home. The school has been the center of controversy since a Freeport woman said she planned to sue her school district for sending her son to Rotenberg, where mild electric shock is used to control the behavior of profoundly troubled children. State education authorities also have expressed concern that too many disabled New York students are being sent to out-of-state schools.
No matter the distance or criticisms about the treatment at Rotenberg, Marcia and Mitchell Shear say they believe the school represents the last and best hope for their daughter.
For years, they endured Samantha's puzzling violence against others and watched helplessly as she repeatedly slammed her hands against the side of her head.
Even with the help of Rotenberg, Marcia Shear said the most she can envision for her daughter is that one day she can live in a group home with others like her, working a simple job like stuffing envelopes.
Troubling signs
Samantha Jill Shear was 15 months old when her mother noticed the odd staring. Other troubling signs emerged. Samantha often threw herself against the bars of her crib, and she never seemed able to fully sit up in her high chair.
At 3, she was diagnosed with autism, a developmental disorder whose symptoms include verbal difficulties and social withdrawal.
There have been years of speech and physical therapies, antidepressants and psychotropic drugs. Samantha pinched, hit and scratched her parents, her brothers, her therapists and strangers.
She struck her head with her hands 60 times a minute with such force that she started going bald and dislocated her retinas. After seven surgeries, she can see better now but will eventually require eyeglasses.
Samantha's parents and her twin brothers, Gary and Adam, now 14, grew resigned to her outbursts, keeping a close eye so she wouldn't rip down the window blinds again.
"We became prisoners of our own home," said Mitchell Shear, a physician specializing in internal medicine and geriatrics who practices in the Bronx.
Very few options
At about 3, Samantha enrolled at Developmental Disabilities Institute in Medford. The staff there recommended an upstate placement for Samantha, because no local residential schools could handle her.
"I was like, 'No, absolutely not,'" Marcia Shear said. "I wanted her here."
But there seemed to be no other options, and at the age of 11, Samantha was enrolled in the Anderson School in Staatsburg, about two hours away.
For the first time, the Shears were at home without her, and Marcia Shear experienced mixed emotions. She felt guilt, but also relief.
"I thought, 'Oh my God, oh my God, what did I do?'" she said. "But part of me was, 'Wow, now I have a life.'"
She realized more than ever the toll Samantha's care had taken on the family. Before Samantha went to Anderson, their mother "would be in the therapy room [in the house] with Sam for hours on end," Gary Shear said. "I would be in front of the TV watching videos, bored out of my mind."
"Really? Is that true?" Marcia Shear interrupted with a gasp. "I feel so guilty."
Naturally, the family missed the brown-eyed girl, who loved to bop to all kinds of music from Barney songs to James Taylor.
They longed for the affection she showed, those fleeting moments when she reveled in hugs and tickles.
School brings hope
Eventually, the staff at Anderson said they could do nothing more for Samantha, and more than 10 rejections later - other schools shied from her self-abusive behavior - Rotenberg accepted her last year.
Mitchell Shear said that as a doctor, he felt comfortable with Rotenberg's aversion therapy. He understood its distinction from electro-convulsive therapy, for which patients are anesthetized. "This was drastically different, and it was a relief after nothing else worked," he said. "We had some hope."
After just a week of the treatment, Samantha stopped hurting herself and others. She's now off medication and only gets shocked about twice a week.
"She just changed drastically," said Samantha's brother, Gary.
The Shears travel with the boys to Rotenberg every six weeks, and they telephone Samantha every other day.
"I would visit her once a week if I could. She's my baby," her mother said. "But she has to be there. There's no other choice."
Samantha is now able to say phrases such as "I want cookie." She loves touching the hair on her dolls, watching the scrolling words at the bottom of television newscasts and going on short car rides.
Copyright 2006 Newsday Inc.