JO HAYWOOD catches up with a York mum a year after she made a heartbreaking decision about her son's future.

WHAT a difference a year makes. Twelve months ago Mandy Brunskill had to be medicated to get through the day. She had no time for her husband, no relationship with her daughter and was an unwilling participant in her autistic son's obsessive daily rituals.

The situation came to a head at the beginning of September 2004 when she made the previously unthinkable decision to send 12-year-old Liam away to a residential school in Doncaster. In her heart, she knew it was the right decision.

Now, it seems she has been proved right. A year on, and the Brunskills couldn't be happier.

Mandy has been off her medication - something she relied on for nine years - since Easter; she has got a job at a property surveyors; she and her husband, Rod, have been on a foreign holiday together for the first time in 17 years; and her relationship with her 14-year-old daughter, Amy, is blooming. But, perhaps most importantly, Liam is learning to love life.

"I can't believe how things have changed," said Mandy, looking bright eyed and happy as we flicked through her latest batch of family photos. "Just look at Liam, you can see how different he is, can't you?"

And she's right, I can. But it's not just Liam, now a strapping teenager, who is beaming on the pictures. Mandy, Rod and Amy cam barely contain their happiness either.

It's like looking at an "after"' picture on a family makeover show. Last year they were at the end of their tether and it showed in their expressions, their voices and their appearance. But - hey presto - look at them now. This doesn't mean, however, that the changes happened overnight. It has been a long, hard road for the Brunskills.

"Leaving Liam at the school (Wilsic Hall) was the hardest thing we ever had to do," said Mandy. "If he had started crying or said he didn't want to stay, I would have packed him back in the car immediately and brought him home.

"But we had prepared him well. We'd talked about the school and where he would sleep. He'd seen brochures, books and a CD Rom and we'd taken him on visits. You can't predict how an autistic child is going to react though. Fortunately, he seemed to take it all in his stride."

After leaving him in Doncaster and travelling back to their home in Lindley Wood Grove, Clifton Moor, the family couldn't see Liam for three weeks. The staff explained that this time of isolation was a vital part of the settling-in process. After a week, however, Mandy was on the brink of bringing her son home.

"I just kept picturing him all alone without his mum," she said. "I also didn't know how he would react when he saw us again. If Liam doesn't see someone for a while, he cuts them out of his life. It's like they're the past and he doesn't want to know them any more. I dreaded him opening the door and just looking straight through us."

But he didn't. On their first visit, he threw open the door and immediately rushed to give his mum, dad and sister an enthusiastic bear hug. He couldn't wait to show them his room in the flat he shares with three other boys and their carers, and was full of news of the packed schedule of activities on offer.

"I think that's the key to how the school works," said Mandy. "Liam is kept so busy that he has less time for his obsessions and rituals."

When he was at home, his whole life revolved around his rituals. His obsessive compulsive behaviour, which his family believes was triggered by the MMR vaccine, was always unpredictable, but as he grew bigger and stronger it was also becoming uncontrollable.

Some of his rituals were harmless, if draining for his family, while others were downright dangerous.

He compulsively stroked his mum's hair and pulled at her fingers; he would only cross the road when the red man lit up, pulling whoever was with him into oncoming traffic; his toiletries had to be set out in a specific order; he would only eat certain foods if they were arranged in a certain way; he would not allow his sister to eat noodles; and, most inexplicably, she was also not permitted to have a bath on a Tuesday.

Some of these may seem trivial, but if any of Liam's rituals were broken all hell would break loose. He would become extremely distressed, screaming for hours at a time until his family was forced to contact social services for emergency respite care.

After a year of residential schooling, his rituals have now diminished. He still likes things done in a certain way (and, for some reason, has decided that no-one should ever eat baked beans), but he is starting to try new foods, is showing incredible progress academically, particularly in maths, and is proving to be a popular member of class.

"School meetings have never been a positive experience in the past," said Mandy. "Liam was always a problem, something that needed solving. But now he gets glowing reports. It's the silliest things that make us the most proud. We got the school newsletter and it was praising Liam for being a 'top notch bingo caller and promising stand-up comedian'. It makes your heart burst with pride, it really does."

And it's not just bingo that he enjoys. Liam has been canoeing and bowling, he loves going to museums and the cinema, and he has discovered a passion for maths and art. Much to his mum's surprise, he has also become quite domesticated.

"He strips his own bed, does the vacuuming and makes his own pancakes," she said with a smile. "If I ask him to so much as dry a cup here all I get is 'no way'. Typical teenager."

Mandy is still angry that she had to send her son all the way to South Yorkshire to get the help he needs, and that City of York Council is paying £4,000 a week for his care, and similar amounts for the care of other children in his situation, when she believes it should be investing in a local residential school. But she doesn't regret her decision for a moment.

"When Liam is at home with us now (they visit him every week and he comes home once a fortnight), we have a lovely time," said Mandy. "We know he is happy and this is the best chance he will ever have of an independent future.

"We've all got our lives back."

Updated: 09:34 Tuesday, August 30, 2005