Browsing the archives for the feelings category

Communication

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feelings, random ramblings

Being the parent of a child who is both medically fragile and has special needs, it is sometimes really hard to see the silver lining in life. While some days things are great and you can smile and laugh and almost feel like a normal person, other days you just fall into a well of confused self deprecation where it seems there is no end in sight to the monotony and drudgery that has become your life.

It makes it all the harder when you are constantly seeing reminders of the life that you’re missing out on… family and friends with their ‘normal’ children who are running and babbling and playing… and it really drives into your heart that your child is just not the same as other children.

Last Friday for instance… I found myself babysitting my niece and my two nephews. To put this in perspective, my niece is 8 months older than my oldest child. My oldest nephew is 4 months older than my middle daughter, and my youngest nephew is 4 months older than Nicola.

Given their close proximity in age it’s only natural that the children are all friends and play well together… that is, all except Nicola.

Where my nephew is off running and playing with cousins and siblings, babbling away, eating everything in sight and generally just being a totally typical terrorising toddler, Nicola is completely immobile. She doesn’t even sit unaided. She doesn’t talk, she doesn’t walk, she doesn’t run… and the limit to her interaction is, or at least it was, crying at anyone that so much as breathes in the same hemisphere as her.

Seeing him, and every other toddler around us, meet their milestones, take their first steps, say their first words etc, while we struggle to achieve even the tiniest of tiptoes forward is, to say the very least, heartbreaking.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge their happiness with their healthy children. Not at all! And while I wouldn’t give Nicola up for anything in the world or change anything about her, I wouldn’t wish this kind of life on anyone, least of all on the days that the silver lining has gone an ugly shade of black.

But every now and then, through the darkest, cloudiest and most miserable days, children like Nicola have this way of surprising us… just when we need it most.

About a month ago we had a massive breakthrough in her communication… she looked at me and she said “Mum. Mum, Mum, Mum.” Of course, to say I was ecstatic was the understatement of the century… until we told her speech therapist who heard a similar sound and told us that it was just a random convergance of sounds made as she chewed on her fingers… and it wasn’t really a word at all.

One step forward, two steps back.

Sigh.

But then, last week, something amazing happened. It was clear, it was concise and it was almost precise. She picked up her hand and she waved.

Ok, so she’s almost two. I get that… waving for a two year old isn’t a big deal…

But for MY two year old, it’s a mammoth step! It’s phenomenal! It’s more of an achievement than man’s first steps on the moon or the discovery of the theory of relativity.

MY two year old daughter waved! She picked up her hand and waved! She communicated with me!

Between the tears I waved back, delighting in the furious little movements of her hand pummelling up and down and the gorgeous smile on her face, the pride in her own achievements mirroring the pride I had for her.

Thinking quick I whipped out my phone and started the video recorder, getting a gorgeous clip of her waving and smiling at me. Then, just was I was about to stop, she did something else.

She responded to my waving to her by signing ‘good waving’ to me in Makaton.

She used her finger instead of her thumb, and it wasn’t entirely as precise as it could have been, by the message was so clear even my father knew what she was saying. “Good waving Mum. I’m proud of you!”


Jo

Mum to Nicola – 22 Months – HRAS+

Living in Australia

Take This Moment…

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News, feelings

Ok, so, again, I am just soooo not good at keeping on top of a blog. I think I have to accept the fact that I will never be one of those people who write something here every day. We have had so much happening of late… the last month or so has just been utterly chaotic.. but I will talk more about that later… maybe.

Right now, I want to talk about a friend.

This friend probably isn’t what a lot of people would consider a friend. I have never stood in the same room as her, nor have I heard the sound of her voice. I have never held her hand or hugged her, I don’t know what sports she follows or what music she listens to, but we share a common ground that is so deeply entrenched in our hearts and souls that none of that seems to be very important.

We both have daughters that are HRAS positive.

Our precious daughters are almost the same age, they even share some of the same traits… the same gorgeous smile, the same big eyes and the same sunny outlook on life… but that’s about where the similarities in our lives end.

Tonight, as I watch my daughter sleeping in her bed and reflect on how far we have come and how far we have to go, my friend is watching her daughter sleeping and reflecting on the fact that her life is nearing an end.

You see, my friend’s beautiful, precious little girl has cancer that cannot be treated and they have made the heart wrenching decision to let nature take it’s course.

I cannot even begin to fathom the immensity of this decision, or the emotions that they struggle with on a daily, or even hourly basis, yet she does it with poise and grace. I read her emails and I cannot help but cry because even now, in her deepest hour of need, she is not only a friend, but a teacher, using her own pain to help guide others on this journey.

And with such a good and gracious person as a teacher, how can I not be a student?

Indeed, from her words, I have learned a great many things, some of which I already knew that have been reinforced in my heart, and some which are new words of wisdom that I am holding fast to.

I have been reminded that every moment is precious. We never know that is just around the corner. It is time now to hug my children, play with them, make them smile, make them laugh. Revel in the joyousness that is the foundation of new life, spend time with my partner and just delight in the little things that make us both smile.

I have learned to appreciate therapy and medications and doctors visits and all of the other stuff that comes with this life that I have had thrust upon me, for even though I may curse these things for being the bane of my existance on a day to day basis, but each time I curse these things I am also reminded that I have her in my life. I may despise therapy, but every day we do it is another day that I still have my daughter.

I have learned that even in the face of adversity that may seem impossible to overcome, I will find a way to get through. I have the strength and courage of a family with wisdom that spans half a century and encompasses the face of the globe, all of whom will be standing with me when I need them.

Nicola and her medical complexity may have turned my life inside out and upside down, and it may have challenged everything I ever thought I knew in my life, but it has also brought me friends and family who have become an important part of my life.

I may not see them every day, or even every other month. I am lucky if I see some of them every other year. I may not know their faces or hear their voices, but they are still in my thoughts every day. I laugh with them in their moments of happiness and I cry with them in their moments of pain, but most of all, I am just thankful that I have them as friends.

Now… with that, I have three sleeping children, medication has been given and feeds are up to date… so I am going to go and enjoy a few moments of precious sanity, savour a nice warm shower in this faux winter and then curl up in bed with a good movie and enjoy some nice spacious sprawl time before all of my off spring end up in my bed, which will be in about two hours and thirty seven minutes, give or take a few seconds.

But I leave you with this…

Take this moment and own it. Cuddle your children, kiss your partner, eat that piece of chocolate, and revel in the small things… don’t take a single moment for granted, because you never know what tomorrow will bring.

Posted By Jodi B, Australia

Conference 2010 – why it is important

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London conference 2010, News, feelings

All the photos in this sideshow are by Rick Guidotti. Visit his website  positive exposure to see more of his amazing work.

Since 1999 we have held a family conference every two years in the USA. Having a family member with a rare disorder is very difficult to deal with. Families are isolated and alone. For the effected individuals, they do not have an opportunity to mix with with other who are like they are. Our conference has provided an opportunity for friendships to be built, both among the individuals themselves, and there families.

Something magical happens at conference. Unfortunately due to finances or health issues many families in the UK and Europe miss out on this opportunity to one together. so for the first time in September we will be starting a new tradition with our first ever UK conference. A time for old acquaintances to be re-united, and a chance for new families to meet others for the first time in there life.  A chance to share in the sadness and joys that are Costello Syndrome and CFC syndrome.

We have a lot planned, and if you have come to this page to find out more about the event, I will be posting more over the next few days. And who knows with luck we will have another great slide show to share from this unique event.

Learning to read

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feelings, random ramblings

One of the regular topics of discussion on our List serve  is about learning to read and write in Costello Syndrome. This struck a cord, and one night I found myself waking from a bad dream after re-living some of my own childhood experiences of  acquiring reading skills.

Readers of  this site may notice that sometimes my spelling and grammar get a little confused. You see  I am dyslexic. What I find interesting is how education today has changed so much from the education I received when I was at young.

I started school 49 years ago at the age of 4, following in the footsteps of my slightly older brother who was always doing well, he was an early reader, and I was expected to be the same.

My early school life was a struggle, as the years passed my skills did not improve. The reaction of the  teachers  was to call me lazy, useless, retarded. Words that have haunted me all of my life. This should not have been the case, because many years before the American physician  Dr  Samuel Torrey Orton had pioneered the study of learning disability. He is best known for his work examining the causes and treatment of reading disability, or dyslexia. Ref: Wikipedia

So 35 years after dyslexia and methods of  education for people with the condition was both recognised and understood I was labelled as lazy and useless. And the problem with labels is they stick.  Nobody takes the  time to look under the label, to see if there is any truth to what is written, and because the label is written by a teacher, a person of  power, the contents of the label gain a new godlike power that nobody is willing to question.

So with this label stuck firmly I progressed through primary to secondary school, where I came in contact with new teachers, and new ways of learning. And at the same time, this label became a bacon to how the teachers would treat me until I would leave school, at 15 with almost no primary or secondary education skills.  The worst part of my school life was trying to gain what was my right,  knowledge and leaning,  was that the educators saw an opportunity to bully and abuse me in ways that would be illegal today. Every other Friday afternoon English we would be given 20 words to learn the spellings. If we did not learn the words that would mean only one thing, a visit to the headmaster for a beating with the cane for being lazy. In time I became used to this ritual humiliation, excepting the beatings as my lot, to be excepted as part of going to school.

Yet in a strange way I was lucky, I had marketable skills, I learned tailoring at the knee of my grandfather, sowing for him by hand as his arthritis made holding a needle difficult.  On Leaving school I became a tailor, and later worked as a designer. Dyslexia had taught me one thing, how to use my memory, I discovered I did not need to write things down as I gained an education, I just remembered bypassing the need for pen and paper. With that realisation I gained a degree and the rest is history.

But what of today, what about the education of my daughter who due to Costello Syndrome, finds it equally difficult to learn to read and write as I did. She is almost 16, can read and write a few words, but I am sure she knows a lot more then she is letting on. She also has a memory that an elephant would be proud of, and she can use her memory to great advantage. Her school treats and educates with compassion and understanding, she has labels, and just because her reading skills are limited, nobody has said that  she will never read, or does not have the ability to do so.

Education has changed a lot in the generation since I left school, and in the years that stretch between me and Helaina the labels have lost there glue. We both share  an enormous love of the written word, but today those words are in the form of audio books and story CD’s. For me my journey into literature has taken many years for the technology to fill the reading gap, and for Helaina her journey is just starting. After all who need to read when you have MP3′s.

A Moment of Sadness…

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feelings

Ok… so good intentions aside… I really struggle to find time to sit down and write stuff here… and when I do finally get all the girls into bed and medications and feeds done and everything under control, I have hundreds of ideas of things that I want to write, but I struggle to find the words to write everything down.

Tonight I need to write something because I have so many thoughts rushing through my head that they’re starting to jumble and crash… so it’s time to put some out in the open.

So… anyway… here goes.

On Friday night Nicola got rushed into emergency theatre to have a shunt revision done. Nicola has a Programmable VP shunt inside her head. In laymans terms there is a catheter that goes into her brain and drains spinal fluid into a reservoir. The reservoir then drains fluid down through a valve into the cavity around her gut which is then reabsorbed by her body. The idea is that it is supposed to remove the excess fluid from around her brain and relieve the pressure around her brain.

So anyway, Thursday night we noticed that the site around her shunt on the back of her head was looking a bit squidgy… Friday morning we phoned the neurosurgeons to ask for advice… Friday afternoon she had a shunt series done to check the status of it and Friday night she was in theatre.

It was a bit overwhelming… but then again I am starting to get a bit used to this. My husband found it funny… every time anyone asked him about our plans for the weekend he responded with some quip about just popping up to the hospital for a spot of last minute neurosurgery… like it’s no big deal or anything… you know, we may as well have just popped down to the local shops for how blase he was being about it all.

But this is our life, and we are adapting quickly. We are resilient, we have to be for our other children.

Anyway… this is where the real point of my post tonight starts.

Saturday night I get around to checking my email and find an email from one of the other Costello Syndrome Support Group Mothers, letting people know that her son had passed away.

He was 27 years old. He wasn’t unwell, he wasn’t in hospital, he hadn’t had surgery… he just passed away. They think it was his heart.

It was a simple email, just one line… but it shattered my heart.

This hasn’t been a good year for the Costello community. Willa has terminal cancer… she’s only 2. Joanne passed away from complications from routine surgery… she was one of my dearest friends and she left behind two beautiful little children (one with very special needs) and a loving husband. Now with the death of Bret…

I feel like every other email that comes over the support group list leaves me in tears… the sad thing is, that no one in my real life understands why or how I can get upset over people who are virtually strangers.

To me, these people aren’t strangers. Some of these people I have never met, some of these people I have met once… but still they are part of my inner circle… my nearest and dearest.

No matter where I look in my real life, there is no one that understands what we are going through on a daily basis. They don’t understand the constant fear, the constant admsisions, the health problems, the medical complications… they don’t understand the pain and the torment that becomes part of our daily lives…

We recently attended a support group meeting that was organised by one of the local disability services groups for families dealing with rare conditions. There were 4 families there… and out of all of them, no one understood what kind of life we were living. They haven’t had the ongoing admissions or medical complications that seem to plague our every day lives.

And then there is my Costello Family.

While they don’t necessarily deal with every single thing that we deal with, as a general rule, they understand. They get the babies that cry almost constantly for no reason… they get the feeding problems and the failure to thrive and the metabolic and endocrin problems and the gastro problems and the heart problems, the fear of cancer, and the combination of all of the above…

And they understand the isolation of dealing with a condition that no one else has heard of or understands.

We went to a cardio review last week and there was a new receptionist. While we were waiting to be checked in I glanced over the pamphlets sitting there and saw one for autism and one for downs syndrome, both talking about support groups and what help is available.

No one has heard of Costello Syndrome.

But my Costello Family understands, because they are living the same life that we are living. They are my light, they are my rock… they are my foundations. Without their support, I really don’t know how I could get through every week.

That’s why I get so upset when bad things happen to my other family. That’s why I cry at the heartache of someone who is a virtual stranger… because even though they are virtual strangers, they are my family, and I love them all deeply… even the ones that I disagree with!

But beyond that, there is also the fact that it makes me question a lot of things that I try and push to the back of my mind… like the fact that there but for the grace of God go I.

And it sounds sooooo shallow and self absorbed to say that, especially in light of everything that has happened… but regardless, I feel it.

It could just as easily be my daughter, my family… and that thought tears me apart. I hate even thinking about it, but I can’t help but think about it when the reminders are constantly there. One bad news email after another, one complication after another… every day there are reminders that our lives are just totally not ‘normal’ and that’s ok… but every three months comes the slap in the face that reminds us just how bad it could be.

But at the end of the day, when I still have my daughter here, no matter how bad a day I might be having, what right do I have to complain when there are clearly others who are so much worse than I?

At least tonight I can still go and kiss my children goodnight…

Marketing speak and health care

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feelings, random ramblings

One of the things in life that at some time everybody will need is good health care. Like birth and death sometime we all get sick. I believe that good health care is a fundamental human right. Medical professionals should treat people with respect and understanding. Sadly that is not always the case. Often marketing and health and safety messages come before health care provision, and understanding the needs of sick people.

This is what the sign says

Our Shared Values
Everyone at the Royal Children’s Hospital Health Service District Strives to work by these values:

We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them.

We take ownership for our actions.

We except change and use this as momentum to achieve excellence.

We work towards positive and creative solutions and in learning we make mistakes.

We understand that everything we do in this organisation impacts on others and our actions contribute to our strengths as a whole.

Constructive behaviour that supports our mission and vision is encouraged and destructive  behaviour is unacceptable.

The question is what does this mean, and how does it apply to the health care that the hospital provides.

Since founding the Costello syndrome support group almost 15 years ago, at a time when there was only a small amount of information, and the idea of a care plan based on evidence of the condition was  impossible.  Over the years through better understanding and research,  this should no longer be the case. With several publications written about caring for a person with Costello syndrome in the medical literature, it should be expected that the medical professionals  provide the very best care based on knowledge and understanding.

Sadly this is not the case, parents can be treated with disrespect, contempt, and some would say the care provided was both bullying and insulting.

This is just one story, how many others have been let down?

…..last year we had ongoing issues with our paediatrician  not listening to us at all.  Several times I told her that my daughter was  was refusing feeds. This is a normal situation in Costello syndrome, CS babies do not like to feed, it is a well known part of the syndrome, yet our doctor  kept fobbing me off and telling me to just persevere.  The literature  says

Disease characteristics.
Costello syndrome is characterized by failure to thrive in infancy as a result of severe postnatal feeding difficulties

Ref: Gene Review

This is the first line of  the description for the syndrome, so being told to persevere would not help or improve my daughter’s feeding issues. One day  I ran into the registrar at the hospital who realised  my daughter had lost a huge amount of weight and could barely stay awake. She was admitted immediately.  I could see that my daughter was having cyanotic episodes both awake and asleep, I informed the doctors, but sadly they would not listen, until she  until she was declared SIDS near miss and stopped breathing 7 times in 5 hours.

“We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them.”

After our Paediatrician went on maternity leave I hoped that  her replacement would be better at understanding CS.

The new Paediatrician it seems had been educated by the initial Paediatrician. Our first meeting with her was in the midst of our first major complaint against the hospital and she sat there and said all the right things to acknowledge our concerns and our anger at the lack of quality care . (invasive testing done against our wishes, wrong medications given, medicationss not given, feeds not given… at one point she was starved for 18 hours because they ‘forgot’ to feed her!)

“We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them”

As soon as we left, she sat down and wrote a letter to every other team involved in my daughter’s care AND MY GP telling them that we were hostile parents and that our hostility possessed no valid concern and that it was simply nothing more than grief over the CS diagnosis incorrectly misdirected at the hospital and medical staff.

“We work towards positive and creative solutions and in learning we make mistakes.”

We needed to know more so we went to the 6th CS conference in the USA. The knowledge we gained was amazing, and we had several recommendations, including a recommended testing strategy written by the world experts in CS, the testing included, ultrasounds of the abdomen to screen for cancer,  Cardiac evaluation and echo cardiagram and MRI for ruling out Chiari malformation.

We had been asking for  an MRI since May and the new paed refused, saying that it was totally not necessary and that we had no medical background and we couldn’t do a diagnosis on something that we read on the internet or from a few words from an overseas stranger (who just happened to be an expert neurosurgeon specialising in CS).

“We except change and use this as momentum to achieve excellence.”
“We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them.”

Finally a surgeon organised the MRI piggybacked onto her surgery and lo and behold it showed that she had a severe Chiari malformation with severe hydrocephalus (which is what we had been questioning all along!).

“We work towards positive and creative solutions and in learning we make mistakes.”

When the surgery was done in January 2010 the Neurosurgeons said that her Chiari was so severe that her cerebral tonsils had impacted into her skull for so long that they had become necrotic and he had to remove a section of her cerebral tonsils.

A lack of care, an inability to listen or lean had lead to what could have been a potentially disastrous outcome.

Back in September when we first got the Chiari diagnosis, I made another complaint then and demanded a new paediatrician  who would actually listen to us and work with us to care for our daughter.

We were given a new paediatrician . When we had our first meeting with him and everything seemed to be great. We go home and the first time we need him we find out that he’s only in the hospital 8 hours a week… and he doesn’t have his own registrar or resident, so we just have to deal with whoever is taking his calls that day. There was no continuity of care. He completely ignored issues that were raised in September and only finally addressed them in January when I told him that my daughters surgery was going to be cancelled. So he started her on some medication but did nothing about investigating the problems at all.

“We understand that everything we do in this organisation impacts on others and our actions contribute to our strengths as a whole.”

She goes in, she has her surgery and the hyponatremia that he had started the medications for becomes severe post neuro surgery. She gets rushed to ICU. Everyone is jumping up and down for the hundredth time about the fact that her electrolytes are so out of whack… but the doctor  just shrugs it off and says it’s fine.

“We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them.”

Finally, 3 days before she’s discharged, I ask to have him paged to talk to him and get told that he is no longer our paediatrician. He has removed himself from our daughters  care.

Furthermore, there is not a single doctor in the hospital that we can find that is willing to take any ownership for my daughters medical needs. I get upset and angry, they they will sort it out and we won’t have this problem again, except we are stuck in the same never ending cycle of lack of care and support.

“We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them.”

Now  5 weeks later we are still stuck, helpless and controlled by a broken system, that is not providing the car they profess to be so good at providing.

I have spent un countable hours phoning social work only to find that the  social worker is never available. I have been as high as the medical directors office only to be told that there is no one in that role this week and basically told to just suck it up and it will be resolved when it’s resolved.

“We believe young people deserve the best we are able to give them.”

The problem I have is that we still have no paediatrician.  I am chasing every other team on my own trying to find someone to help me sort these issues with my daughters health out and get us the referrals we need.

No one will help us.

Everyone just keeps saying it’s up to the paediatrician.

Yet they don’t acknowledge or recognise the fact that we do not have a paediatrician

We are moving in 5 weeks and I have no one to give a referral to the new hospital to start arranging her care.  We are trapped by the lack of current care, unless We have the referrals  from our current doctors the new hospital can not do anything for us.
All this from a hospital that proudly displays the notice above. A notice so full of good words and aspirations, yet words that mean so little, words that are not heard or thought about by the doctors who should be providing the care.  It is a sign full of worthless words.