The Most Important Part of the Diagnosis Was the Diagnosis

I clearly remember sitting in first grade, among my 100 classmates, thinking, “What Is Wrong With These People?!”

A feeling that I carried and managed—on my own for sixty years.

Then one day, during the active quest that I had been on for that sixty years—to find out what was wrong with these people; I got the answer.

Now, let me back up a little:

I did look around as a youngster wondering what was wrong with everyone, but at about age 23 it occurred to me that it really couldn’t be everyone else.
I mean, what are the chances. I’m the normal one; everyone else is different?

Just being logical, that argument doesn’t work.

But here I was, the way that I was, and there was everyone else being—normal.

Now, don’t get caught up on that.
We have to put a stick in the sand somewhere.

If the norm is people conforming to a standard, rule, or regular pattern.
I was certainly not normal.
Not that I ever wanted to be.

But, I did want to know what it was that was in-between.
Why such a difference?

Up until that time I had searched and my mom sent me to doctors and they tried all sorts of things, and diagnoses and even a few pills, but I was still me and everybody else was still—normal.

And time went by, and I did what I could, which included quite an assortment of things:

Aggravated teachers,
Aggravated peers,
Frustrated doctors,
Became a nationally titled athlete, (Despite my doctor telling Mom; I couldn’t do it.)
Became a Philly cop,
Got married,
Had a family,
Became a detective, (The youngest one in the city.)
Transitioned to the public sector,
Ran a department with over 50 people under me, (Aspies—avoid this like the plague.)
Ran computer systems for Fortune 50 companies,
Taught thousands of employees how to use them,
Worked on Wall Street,
Reinvented myself over, and over and over again.

And it was fun.

Yeah, there were frustrating times.
Pedestrian jobs.

Not a whole lot of friends.
But some exceptionally good ones.

And then one day, as I was commuting on a one and a half hour bus ride to Wall Street from Pennsylvania, a random story popped up in my news feed from the BBC.

Lesser-known things about Asperger’s syndrome – Robyn Steward

So, I read it.
And, the sixty year quest—all the wrong diagnoses—the what, the why and the how—all suddenly had an answer.

I had gotten close a few times, the closest being a visit to Austria, the epicenter of the whole thing.
If you want to meet a lot of us….

At first I thought, “It can’t be this simple.”

I took one test, then another and another and the evidence got stronger and stronger.

I did research, found the most qualified doctor I could find—in Manhattan of course.

And, soon had the definitive answer: Classic Asperger syndrome.
The highest scores the doctor had seen in 25 years of studying it.

After 60 years of wondering and searching; I now had the answer to:

What it was that was in-between.
Why such a difference?

Essentially, I hadn’t changed—nor had they.

But now I knew the what and the why.

So, I accumulated all the material I could find and started the research.
This time to establish an owner’s manual, work arounds, better ways of ‘passing’.

We are on their planet of course.
When in Rome…

I had discovered enough information in that diagnosis to build a bridge between my world and the normal one.

I had built bridges in the past, but like any bridge they eventually fell.

This one’s lasted for 12 years intact.

I’ll keep it.

Because without it:

I might as well be back in that first grade class.

Written June 17, 2026