A week before Christmas we were headed home from a Christmas show when a car crossed our entire lane. Even with a quick swerve, we couldn't avoid it completely. Although we avoided a complete disaster, our minivan still looked pretty awful and the whole family was pretty stressed by the incident.

Accidents are never fun. Trying to help someone on the autistic spectrum deal with an accident is truly a challenge. Peter does not answer questions about himself well. The girls were able to tell me which body parts ached, but that everything seemed to be in working order.

Peter kept telling me he was fine and did not want a doctor. Usually the more Peter says "No doctor!" the more I should be considering a doctor.

When he was little, he would come to me and say he was fine. That usually meant he had cut himself. I would have to search for the area that he was bleeding from and fight him every step of the way to clean the wound and put on a "sticky" bandage.

I wondered how the ER visit was going to go. Peter kept begging not to go the hospital for the entire drive from Mahopac to the hospital. We arrived at a rather quiet Emergency Room between 11 p.m. and midnight.

Since we went to our local hospital, Hudson Valley Hospital Center, I immediately told them that Peter was part of Lakeland's Aspire Program. They understood immediately that they would need to deal with Peter with "kid gloves." Peter told the nurse, billing person and doctor that he was fine. He told them about the accident. (That is actually more information than I thought he would provide.)

Everyone made the experience for all of us much easier. They let Peter ask questions. They dealt with his fears gently. They made all of us feel safe again, which is a feeling that leaves once cars begin to crunch together.

Peter worried about each person as we were examined. He asked what else they were going to do to him. I had told him what might happen and a couple of those things were unnecessary (looking in his eyes with light, for example). Poor Peter kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Do you have to look in my eyes yet?" He even handed one person the right instrument to perform the task.

I spent the evening thinking, "What if things had gone a little differently?" What if I was unable to provide information at the beginning of the exam? What if we were at a hospital that had less training with kids on the spectrum?

I have discovered there are bracelets and forms you can fill out to help kids on the spectrum deal with medical personnel. Peter is verbal, although when he is stressed out he sometimes gets stuck in a verbal loop. For those without words, the forms would prepare medical personnel about what stressors the child has and how best to handle them in unusual situations.

This accident has helped me realize there are many ways we are not necessarily prepared. I usually count on my husband Bill or daughter Charlotte to fill my shoes in terms of keeping Peter calm if I am not around. That night we could have all been unavailable.

The accident helped me realize I always worry about the little things, but I need to think about some awfully big things to be truly prepared.