CROW

It’s Not Easy
Being Andy
A rare genetic disorder. Then
an autism diagnosis. Now,
the barrier is bureaucracy.
story and photos by
Nathan Liewicki
Andy Glover’s bicycle is red. So, too, are
his helmet and sunglasses. They’re
all sparkling under a warm splash
of sun and he is eager to go for a ride.
For late March, it’s a balmy 15 C in Regina,
Saskatchewan. The sun’s rays
shine through the leafless trees that hang over the street
where the six-year-old lives. Andy crawls on to the seat
of his bike, grabs the left handlebar, then the right one,
and puts his left foot on the left pedal. He slowly pushes
down on the left pedal and brings his right leg up
to sit on the right one. Another bicycle ride has begun.
He cruises past a few houses before stopping at the first
sewer drain he sees. He drops sticks and stones down it. This is
repeated at the next drain. And the next one. And the next one.
At five months, Andy began having seizures. His
parents, Rod and Corrine Glover, took him to a
doctor. The doctor told them they should see a
pediatric neurologist. The resulting diagnosis: tuberous
sclerosis, a rare genetic disorder that causes non-malignant
tumours to grow in the brain and other vital organs.
The neurologist’s words opened a whole series of doors
to things Rod and Corrine had to look for—symptoms
of tumours behind his eyes, for example, or on his liver.
Andy was put on strong doses of anti-seizure medication.
Heavily drugged, he wasn’t cognizant of anything,
says Rod. It was only after his medications got sorted out
that Rod and Corrine started noticing other things that
Six-year-old Andy Glover works with his
autism interventionist Melissa Rodrigue.
48 THE CROW Fall 2012 Fall 2012 THE CROW 49