Category Archives: Parenting

Medical Marijuana, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

You can get Epidiolex in a month if your definition of a month is 210 days to years.

October 9, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 2 Comments

Connor had a 48-hour VEEG a few weeks ago. It was awesome. Instead of waiting weeks and weeks to get into CHOA, we were given the option to use a company that comes to your house and hooks everything up. No hospital! God, it was beautiful. We had received the basic results, but recently had an appointment to discuss it more in depth with his neuro. I’ve been confused in documenting his seizures recently because they often have elements of his typical complex-partials, as well as his tonic-clonics. The EEG confirmed that his CPS (which are in one area of the brain), then generalize to the rest of the brain resulting in clonic seizures. He has a couple hot spots and it seems like every EEG seems to indicates a tradeoff in which is doing the dirty work. This time they all started in the right frontal lobe in the spot where he had surgery when he was four months old. Greeeeaaat.

This is not to say the surgery was not done well or wasn’t successful. It made a huge difference in reducing his seizure activity. That removed tuber was the reason Connor spent 37 days in NICU at birth. But sometimes the area left that surrounded the tuber can still trigger activity. This means a second surgery to remove more of that area is an option. But the doctor already knew we weren’t interested in exploring that route, not before we try medical cannabis. Connor is currently being considered for a compassionate use trial of Epidiolex, the GW pharmaceutical using extracted CBD.

We’ve been somewhat quiet about that because we already got disappointed once. Despite Rep. Sharon Cooper and Sue Rusche of National Families in Action swearing up and down during the last Georgia legislative session that we could all get into the clinical trials WITHIN A MONTH! JUST ASK YOUR DOCTOR! it was confirmed quickly what the families already knew. That’s. Bull. Shit.

Many families never had a shot at the trials being conducted by GW. They are focusing on Dravet and LGS. Plus, there is a lot of exclusionary criteria, such as having additional diagnoses. Many tried. Many were told no. One of those children, whose mom was assured she could get it, has since tragically passed away due to a seizure. He didn’t qualify.

Connor only has a shot because there happens to be a compassionate use trial here that isn’t limited to those two diagnoses. But it is very small, very expensive for the doctor and very complicated for a doctor to take part in due to the schedule 1 status of cannabis. So, sure, you can ask your doctor to look into this, but don’t hold your breath. However, the first time we thought we could be included, we found out Connor was excluded by GW because of his age. His doctor has since submitted paperwork to expand the age requirement and we are holding our breath for it to be approved. Sooooo, a month? Let’s see, the legislative session ended in March, so it has been at least seven since we were all told a month. And Connor is damn lucky he even has a shot at taking a part in such a small trial. Cross your fingers for him and us. Everyone else can just move to a legal state, break the law or wait the years it will take for Epidiolex to hit the market (and then hope that formulation is the one that will actually help).

Realm of Caring is also about to start shipping Charlotte’s Web, the the high CBD oil, made famous by CNN’s Weed with Sanjay Gupta. So the CBD options are slowly and fantastically coming our way, but should Connor be one of the cases that requires a different ratio of THC, we will either need to move to a legal state or hope Georgia can pass legislation in 2015 that will let us get what we need. The comfort level with CBD has skyrocketed nationwide, but THC is still demonized despite the fact that it is needed to treat many medical conditions. For now, we are hopeful that Connor will be one of the patients that responds well to CBD without the need for tweaking the ratio. It also remains to be seen how shipping the oil will play out due to the legal gray areas, especially for people in states with no legislation on the books. Certain politicians and people with authority think we should all settle for their word that they won’t prosecute us here. But tell that to Angela Brown in Minnesota who was recently arrested for giving her son CBD oil.

We’ll just be gnawing our fingernails, waiting to hear about the trial. Connor’s been having more seizures at night. His Emfit monitor was malfunctioning the other night (we were advised to adjust some settings which seems to be doing the trick), and now that I’m used to having a monitor that will alert us to convulsive seizures, I couldn’t sleep knowing it wasn’t on. I tried to sleep with Connor in the guest bed, but moving him woke him up and for the next hour and 15 minutes he appeared to be on speed. We played several rounds of “Got Your Nose” Scarface style –him grabbing mine, not the other way around. The bed and my head also made for equally sufficient trampolines. I finally gave up and had to put him back in the crib where he entertained himself for at least another hour. Life with epilepsy, ya’ll.

If you are interested in putting yourself on the wait list for Charlotte’s Web, go here.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

A night in the hospital.

September 22, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 9 Comments

There has been a lot going on lately. Last Sunday I attended the celebration of life for Trinity Sumlin. I met her mother Sheryl when we were fighting for medical cannabis and HB 885 during the last Georgia legislative session. A couple months after HB 885 failed to pass — thanks to political gameplay, not lack of support — Sheryl took Trinity to Colorado to treat her. They were one of the families I shared about in this post. But sadly, Trinity passed away September 5. She was only 11. I was honored that Sheryl asked me to write the story to go in the children’s book she wanted to pass out at the celebration.

Connor’s seizure activity has been up and down. We really don’t see much activity in his waking hours, with the exception of little myoclonic jerks of his arms or sometimes his head. But all his complex-partial and tonic-clonic seizures are sleep related, so those happen during naps or at night. He’s also had a couple strange incidents in which he was not having obvious seizure activity, but he was weak and lethargic as though he had. Sometimes that has lasted several hours which concerned us. On Friday he was like that all day. Sometimes he’d start to perk up, only to decline again. He couldn’t sit on his own or even support his head. I slept with him on Friday to keep an eye on him. By midnight he was raring to go and things looked promising. Saturday morning he wasn’t quite as perky, but he did eat breakfast well (the day before he had no interest in drinking and eating) and was laughing so we thought it would turn out to be a normal day. Chris’ parents were in town and we all had plans to go to the North Georgia State Fair. This is how the day started:

As you can see, Connor looks less than enthralled. The one ride I took him on I had to hold his head to keep him from slumping over. We had never had two days of this before and all I could think was that there was some subclinical seizure activity going on (for those who don’t live in the world of epilepsy, that means seizures that appear on EEG but don’t cause visible activity). We called his neurologist’s office and his actual neuro also happened to be the one on call–which makes life soooooo much easier–right, TSC families?! When I told him he wasn’t really eating or drinking, he advised us to go to the ER. We were hesitant. believe it or not. That probably sounds crazy to those outside this life, but as most of us who have been dealing with this stuff for a while know, you start to realize how little can really be done at the ER. You’ll find many special needs families that have the attitude of “what can you do at the hospital that I can’t do at home?” (Besides infect me with MRSA). I mean if he was in a status seizure, or had something life threatening going on, that’s obviously ER territory, but this? We weren’t real confident. But it had been going on so long, we followed the advice. This is how the weekend ended up:

Doc says it's time to roll out! (to tune of Ludacris) — Doc says it’s time to roll out! (to tune of Ludacris)

They ran all the standard blood and urine tests (Connor chose not to pee for hours so when he did fill the bag there was no way to get it off without spreading the golden warmth everywhere). He was also hooked up to a keto-friendly (he’s on MAD) saline drip. Tests all came back normal. But when he didn’t really perk up after the saline, our neuro told the ER doctor not to send us home. This is where things got hairy. The ER doctor told us we were being admitted because of possible subclinical activity. So guess what we thought? How does one find out about subclinical activity? WITH AN EEG!!! I went home to pack a bag while Chris stayed with Connor. I was on my way back when I got the text. We were admitted , but they don’t do EEGs on the weekends. The rest of my texts to Chris were 90 percent F-bombs. The. Monopoly. Children’s. Healthcare. System. In. Georgia. Doesn’t. Do. Emergency. EEGs. On. Weekends. I was well aware that they didn’t schedule routine EEGS on the weekend, but…but…but… (And I later found out this happened to another TSC family who went in with INFANTILE SPASMS on a weekend). This is inexcusable. Utterly inexcusable. But I’ve never been quiet about how I feel about Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta at Scottish Rite (or CHOA in general). So we spent the night with Connor hooked to an IV to keep him hydrated. He did start to perk up late that evening and was much better the next day so we were discharged. I was happy to have him get the IV until he would eat and drink again and I totally understand why he was admitted. When we talked to Connor’s neuro, he said that was the reason he asked for us to be admitted, and that’s fine. The ER doc was either confused or we misunderstood the implication about the EEG, I guess.

But that doesn’t change my thoughts on the matter. There is no excuse that someone can’t get an EEG on the weekend for an emergency situation. I understand that hospitals aren’t as heavily staffed at that time, but this is not okay. So if a child has a seizure for the first time ever on a Friday night, you are crap out of luck until Monday? If a child presents with infantile spasms on a Saturday morning, too bad? We can’t confirm until Monday even though IS requires immediate treatment? I’m just at a loss.

I do want to say that other than that, the stay itself was probably the best one we’ve had. Attentive and proactive nurses and the attending doctor on the floor was fantastic, a far cry from the time he got EEG glue in his eye and I had to demand something be done for 17 hours before anyone would look at him. By then his eye was swollen shut and he was in terrific pain and requiring antibiotics. It also made me feel better about the fact that it took 16 hours to get paper towels brought to the room and that the urine sample that was spilled never got mopped or sanitized (there went our four paper towels that were left in the room). Requests were definitely made by our nurse and techs for those things to happen, but whoever was on the other end of the line has a sweet job because they never bothered to do it.

On an amusing note, the pharmacy didn’t have his meds on hand (a specialty one they never have, and the other they didn’t have in the right form) so we were asked to turn over our meds to be dispensed by the pharmacy. (Wonder what that will look like on the bill?) They have to keep his Onfi under lock and key because it’s a controlled substance. His Klonopin is too, but I didn’t turn that over since it’s just for clusters. It’s funny to think he’s prescribed two meds with more street value than the medical marijuana the law prohibits me from having.

Rosie the dog and Connor had an exciting couple of weeks. My parents went to Italy so we had their batsh** crazy full-grown kittens for two weeks. Rosie is in love with Thatcher the black cat. Followed her adoringly and stalkerish the whole time. She also enjoyed chasing Theo, who spent a good portion of the past two weeks hissing at everyone. One of them broke a wine glass. They were allowed to live only because my wine wasn’t in it.

I awoke one morning with four cats in my room looking at me. It was an eerie glimpse into the life of a cat lady, a possible calling I chose to ignore. I emailed my mom to tell her of the terrifying experience and she responded by offering to bring these back from Italy for me:

Random note: Connor and I made the local news. Check it out here.

I leave you with photos of our zoo. Our two cats are not present in the photos as they opted not to set foot outside our bedroom for the duration of this social experiment.

My mom bought them a cat tent for the stay should they become too unruly during the stay...Connor took a liking to it--more than the tent we actually bought him to play with. — My mom bought them a cat tent for the stay should they become too unruly…Connor took a liking to it–more than the tent we actually bought him to play with.

I'm like a cat. I wanna sit in laps. — Me, me! I’m like a cat! I wanna sit in laps!

Rapunzel....Rapunzel... — Rapunzel….Rapunzel…

I don't know what they were doing, but somehow they collapsed the tent down on themselves. — I don’t know what they were doing, but somehow they collapsed the tent down on themselves.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Seizure Hunter — The Elusive Prey

August 1, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 2 Comments

Seizures are really obvious. I couldn’t possibly miss one. We’ve all seen them on television: the fall to the floor, the violent thrashing, maybe some foaming at the mouth. Therefore, it’s really easy to keep track of them for the neurologist and make decisions about which medication is the perfect match for your situation.

Hear that? That is the sound of the collective eye rolling of the epilepsy community. Just kidding, ya’ll!

It turns out that a seizure can look like damn near anything. Eye rolling, staring, wandering, confusion, a single limb jerking, lips puckering, a split second head drop, a split second loss of muscle tone that sends a person plummeting to the floor, jackknife motions of the body, going stiff as a board, a scream…or nothing. Nothing at all. All you know is that suddenly your child went from smiling and laughing to laying his head on the floor and going to sleep, or he’s suddenly so weak that his arms give out and he smacks his head on the floor resulting in two black eyes. It’s not just seizure freedom that can be elusive, but the seizures themselves.

Was that a seizure? Was that? And what about that? Do I count that if I’m not sure? Was that one seizure or two different ones back to back? And that one? That one looked like a weird combination of tonic clonic and complex partial, so which do I mark it as on my Seizure Tracker app? Our smart phones fill with videos of suspicious behavior we share with our online support groups and doctors trying to get answers. It takes an hour to do the dishes because I turn around and look at the baby every 30 seconds to see if anything is happening. Every stoplight I turn around and squint at the baby mirror. If he has actually managed to go a few days seizure free, when one happens, I play mind games with myself about putting it in the tracker. That was a small one. Am I sure it was really a seizure? Does it count if I don’t record it?

I think the first year was the worst. Babies are weird and do weird stuff. How do I differentiate normal weird from abnormal weird? Is he discovering his hands or is he seizing? Trying to roll over or seizing? It’s even worse if it is the first child and there is no one to compare him to. It’s a little easier with a toddler. Not easy. Just easier. It is easier for me to distinguish typical behavior from anomalies, or if a movement was intentional or not. Not all the time, but enough to do the dishes in a reasonable amount of time. Or settle for a quick glance in the rear view. Sometimes I even settle for logging the seizure type as “unknown .”

And choosing just the right medication? Yes, that was another collective eye roll. We experiment, and change doses, combine two, three, maybe even more seizure medications. We try one med with great anticipation because it made another kid seizure free, only to find that it makes our kid have more. And if we find one that works, eventually he insists on growing or something else changes, and the experiment continues.

I have to accept that there are limits to what I can fix and do the best I can.

Most importantly, I finally realized that it doesn’t make me a bad parent if I don’t always know. I WILL miss seizures. I won’t know what every movement is. There won’t always be answers. There will be good days and bad days. But they will be worth it.

Thank you to joshprovides.org for granting Connor an Emfit seizure monitor. — Thank you to joshprovides.org for granting Connor an Emfit seizure monitor for his crib.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Connor just walked his longest distance ever!

July 24, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt Leave a comment

Tuesday Connor walked his longest distance ever independently. He’s been getting better and better at walking with the emotional support of holding a hand or even just a finger, and sometimes even just knowing our hands are hovering over his shoulders is enough. We were waiting for aquatic therapy to start and walking around the pool area for practice when he suddenly let go of my hand and went on his way. His previous record was eight steps in our house. This time he walked half the the length of the Olympic pool. The lifeguard clearly thought I was insane chasing after him, hands at the ready to catch him and whisper-shrieking “Oh my God, oh my God!” As we passed him by I gasped, “He’s never walked this far before!” So then the lifeguard got excited and when Connor finally did go down he joined me in clapping and offering congratulations.

Chris did his part to add to the family excitement Tuesday, too. He mowed the front and back yard without incident, came in, showered, changed, sat on the couch to relax and THEN got stung by a bee. It must have gotten inside at some point during the mowing process as we went in and out. But his throbbing arm is simply the price that must be paid to lord over our neighbors.

I have also been enjoying time in the great outdoors.

My other exercise comes from picking up after Connor. He has always enjoyed starting his day by emptying his toy tubs and pulling all the books off the shelves, but lately he’s been a little too enthusiastic about chucking his belongings behind him. Once everything is in a pile behind him, he turns around and starts chucking everything in the other direction. He is highly amused and excited by this, so I think it’s a stimming behavior.

Which leads me to my plea. While I certainly lack the degree of cleanliness OCD my husband demonstrates, I do have an obsessive need for the house to be clean when people walk in (except for his at-home therapists–I blow their mind when I’m even actually dressed). I don’t care what it looks like five minutes later…but it must be clean when guests walk in. For that reason, you MUST be on time when you come over. The protocol typically calls for a mad rush of throwing all the toys in the correct baskets within the 10-minute window before expected arrival. Until you walk in the door, I must distract Connor from his need to rectify the disgusting clean I have made. It is not always pretty. But once guests have entered and caught a glimpse of the clean floor, I can unleash the kraken.

The weekend before last we went to a social event held by the Georgia early intervention program Babies Can’t Wait. It was a bit surreal as I heard my name and looked up to see someone I hadn’t seen since high school. I had this strange moment of trying to process that intersection of someone from my past crossing into the special needs department of my life. There were the normal “how are yous” and then the awkward trying to figure which questions were okay to ask. I was thinking, “I can ask, right? That’s not weird…is it?” Over and over. She was the first to break the ice and we discussed the two rare genetic disorders that had unexpectedly altered the course of our lives. But these are the things, along with Facebook support groups, that keep the bitterness and the feeling of being targeted by life at bay. Oh, the life paths you couldn’t fathom when you were walking the halls of high school…

Current Events, Medical Marijuana, Parenting

When will Georgia’s medical cannabis refugees come home?

July 17, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 6 Comments

In the months since Georgia’s 2014 legislative session ended without passing proposed medical cannabis legislation (due to political games, not lack of support), the community of medical refugees in Colorado has grown.

Notice anything funny about the south? Sing with me! One of these things is not like the others… Admittedly, the laws in the bordering states are of varying efficacy. South Carolina, for example, is only an immunity law that protects you if you are caught with high CBD strains, but does nothing to help patients obtain it. Florida, on the other hand, is allowing for the growing and selling of high CBD strains next year. If Amendment 2 passes in November, Florida will be able to enact an even more comprehensive program that will benefit more people and conditions.

So now meet some of the Georgia families that are waiting to return to their homes, families, doctors, therapists and friends.

The Cox family

The Georgia bill HB 885 was also named Haleigh’s Hope in honor of this little girl who turns five this month. Shortly before this year’s legislative session ended, Janea and Haleigh packed up and moved to Colorado because Haleigh, who has Lennox-Gastaut syndrome, was suffering life-threatening seizures that caused her to stop breathing. Her dad, Brian, was unable to go with them because of his job and now they have to live apart.

Haleigh before.

Haleigh after.

As I scrolled through the Hope for Haleigh page I was struck again by the change in her. Janea takes and posts a lot of pictures and I could see the improvement, but in looking for before pictures, I was struck by how difficult it was to find photos of her looking at the camera or smiling. Now we see quite a few of those. Sitting in a swing by herself wasn’t possible a few months ago. She also said her first word in Colorado — Mama. Haleigh is not seizure free and still has some rough days, but she has also had some seizure free days. That simply didn’t happen before she started on Haleigh’s Hope provided by the Hope Foundation. Janea has said that she felt like she was finally meeting her child these last few months. Haleigh has even been able to wean off one of her seizure medications. But living apart from Dad is emotionally taxing and they hope that 2015 will bring legislation that will allow them to be a family again.

The Oliver family

Tripp had his first seizure on April 9, 2009 and was diagnosed with Dravet syndrome. He has tried more than a dozen medications since then and in April of this year, he and his mom moved to Colorado where he started THCa through Realm of Caring. It was hard to leave Dad and his team of therapists who have spent years working with Tripp in speech, occupational, feeding and physical therapy, but since then he has had two separate three-week streaks in which he had no convulsive seizures. Mom describes him as brighter and happier with improving speech capabilities. You can follow his journey at Tripp’s Trip.

The Klepinger family

The Klepingers left for Colorado late last year. They still own their Georgia home with the hopes they can return to it and their extended family and support network. Hunter is still doing well on Charlotte’s Web. I shared Hunter’s successes previously in this post. Since then, Aaron and Dawn have a welcomed a third child, lovingly nicknamed their Colorado Tumbleweed.

Hunter with Rep. Allen Peake, sponsor of Georgia's 2014 medical cannabis bill. Peake flew out to Colorado to meet the families. — Hunter with Rep. Allen Peake, sponsor of Georgia’s 2014 medical cannabis bill. Peake flew out to Colorado to meet the families.

Aaron invites any legislators with doubts to come to Colorado and meet the kids. “Seeing is believing,” he says.

The Clark family (follow them at Hope for Caden)

“My Caden has had thirteen completely seizure-free days! Understand that was never a possibility before! He no longer seizes during the daytime at all, only at night,” Kim Clark posted in May of this year. “There was no hope before this, nothing. Caden’s life was seizing somewhere between ten up to into the hundreds times a day. There was no life. Coupled with the side effects from medications, my boy was miserable. Now we are so blessed that he is 10 years old and we are trying to learn how HE CAN LIVE!”

Kim posted this photo recently with the caption "Slowly healing." — Kim posted this photo recently with the caption “Slowly healing.”

But Caden’s healing has come at a price. The Clarks are also a split family. Kim is in Colorado with the kids and Dad Chris has had to stay behind in Georgia for work. They share the same reality as the other families living hundreds of miles apart. Dad can come visit them, but they can’t go home to see him because they can’t legally travel with the oil. Recently, Kim and Chris traded places for a short period so she could make a trip home.

Kim sits on the front porch of her Georgia home, possibly for the last time, as they plan to put it on the market due to the expense of maintaining two households.

The Sumlin family

Sheryl and her daughter Trinity arrived in Colorado earlier this summer.

It’s early to gauge the response of Trinity’s seizures to Haleigh’s Hope since mom opted to titrate up to the usual starting dose, an incoming tooth is causing seizures and Trinity is requiring supplemental oxygen as she adjusts to the altitude. However, Mom is seeing beacons of hope in small things like wiggling her toes, calmness, awareness, making sounds and sleeping better.

But leaving her support network has been extremely tough. “It is harder than I thought it would be,” Sheryl says. “Although it’s beautiful here, it is not home. My daughter’s school and that whole network has been a huge part of our lives for the last 5-6 years. Also, friends who knew us since forever. I think it’s unfair that we have to move so far to have an opportunity to try this medicine.”

Sheryl is out there without nursing help or a car. Prior to flying out she donated her vehicle to another family in need. A fundraiser was set up by a third party to help her with expenses, but she never received any of the donations that were made on her behalf. She is grateful to the Journey of Hope foundation, a non-profit started by Rep. Allen Peake, for coming through and helping her financially with the move.

The Lowe family (follow them at Paws for a Princess)

Corey worked tirelessly during the 2014 legislative session to persuade Georgia legislators how badly we need access to cannabis. She was devastated when it didn’t pass, and by May, her daughter’s seizures were getting out of control. She had a tough decision to make.

Interviewing with CBS 46 about their impending move after Victoria was admitted to the hospital.

In June, with help from Journey of Hope, they packed up the car and drove across the country leaving behind Corey’s job, her husband and Victoria’s siblings.

Since starting on Haleigh’s Hope, Corey tells me Victoria has had an 80 percent reduction in seizures. From several a day to this:

The incredible eye contact and improved communication Victoria is showing now helps alleviate the pain of leaving their home, but Corey still worries.

“It’s great, but at what cost,” she told me. “How will this affect my children, who I left behind, in the long run? Will they resent Victoria because I had to leave them behind? How is not having a mom around affecting them?”

She also feels guilty about the families that simply don’t have the means or circumstances to move across the country. “The absolute worst part about having this medicine is seeing kids back home that need it. It’s hard to celebrate the success when kids are going into the hospital because of seizures.”

The Klepinger, Clark, Lowe and Sumlin family sharing their 4th of July celebration in Colorado.

Related Posts:

The Side Effects of Medical Cannabis

U.S. Representative John Fleming Is Out to Prevent Access to Medical Cannabis for Our Kids

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Connor is a fish.

June 22, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 3 Comments

We just got back from a week in Venice, Florida at Chris’s parents’ house. Since Connor has weekly aquatic therapy, I was hopeful he would enjoy the pool this year, but I honestly expected he’d maybe get in a couple times and be done after 20-30 minutes. Not so. He was in every day with us the whole time. In fact, he quickly learned that once the safety fence was down and at least one adult was in the pool, that was his cue to crawl over, turn around backward about two feet from the edge and back into the water until he hit the step. Aquatic therapy has given him great confidence in the water. Too much actually. He constantly wanted to break free from us and his flotation devices to do his own thing.

It was a great week sandwiched by two crappy seizure days. He did great after we upped his vigabatrin a couple weeks ago, then he had another awful day in which he only had two or three clearly identifiable seizures, but was just off the rest of the day, weak and had a hard time moving. Bad seizure days always wipe out his arm strength, so even if he gets motivated to move, he ends up with bruises lining his forehead. Sometimes his chin takes a hit, too. And once he’s motivated, it’s hard to stop him. We try to keep him on the carpeted areas, but he always gravitates to the hardwood.

We upped his vigabatrin on Sunday morning and the next several days were great. Then Thursday night he woke us up crying, which is very rare. For the second time ever, he had what I guess would be classified as a partial seizure? One arm was extremely stiff and unmovable. He cried until it stopped. I stayed in the room and slept with him and he had 2-3 more of those that would wake him from sleep and make him cry. He also had three tonic clonics throughout the night. I always thought a partial seizure would be a better type to have because it’s just a body part and you are aware, but instead those seem the worst for him–but I don’t know if he cries because it hurts or because it scares him. So Friday he was rather off and not as energetic as usual, though he did perk up the second Daddy got in the pool and commenced his backward scoot. I slept with him again Friday night, our last night in Florida. He didn’t have any seizures until we woke up to leave, but as soon as he awoke he had a short tonic clonic. I thought he was done, but then I noticed his eyes flitting back and forth in a weird way and his eyelids twitching. I waited it for it to stop. And waited. Chris came in behind me. It kept going. Nobody spoke out loud, but a basic summary of our thoughts is as follows:

Oh my God. This is it. His first status seizure,

We’re not going home; we’re going to the hospital.

I don’t want to have to move to Colorado. Are we going to have to move to Colorado after all?

And just as I think we were both struggling to make the call that it was time to head to the ER it stopped. Not a status seizure, but one of the longest he’s ever had. And if we hadn’t been leaving and turned on the lights, I don’t know if I would have known it was happening. We don’t have a prescription for Diastat (an emergency med), but I think it’s time to talk to his neuro about it. Just in case. We have Klonopin on hand in case of clusters, but he can’t swallow it in a situation like this.

Florida, I’m begging you to get your MMJ program up and going. You’ve passed the oil, and I hope you will pass Amendment 2 this fall. And it goes without saying that if Georgia does it too…

Last night his motivation was present, but not his arm strength so it was a battle to keep him in carpeted areas. I’m happy to report this morning is much better!

I will leave you with pics from our awesome week in Florida:

Dirty Banana at Sharky's. — Dirty Banana at Sharky’s.

We borrowed Chris's parents' "fun" car for date night. — We borrowed Chris’s parents’ “fun” car for date night.

Getting hot dog's at Anita's sandcastle. — Getting hot dog’s at Anita’s Sandcastle.

Checking out the manatee at Mote Marine.

Guest Bloggers For TSC Awareness Month, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

This year we celebrate 40 years of TS Alliance’s existence.

June 1, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt Leave a comment

Second Annual “Blogging for TSC Awareness Month” Day 32

by guest blogger Susan McBrine (Oregon)

Tuberous Sclerosis.
Words a parent never wants to hear… Or expects to hear. Yet every day, all over the world, parents are still getting this diagnosis for their child, who may be experiencing seizures, developmental delay, autism, kidney and brain tumors and more .

I got this diagnosis for my daughter over 40 years ago and I must say it changed my life forever. I became an informed, determined, assertive researcher, educator and advocate for making sure that I knew and found all there was to know and do to help her achieve her potential. In the process I helped found Tuberous Sclerosis Alliance and tried to help many other famiilies find hope for better treatments and a better life for their children with this disease .

This year we celebrate 40 years of TS Alliance’s existence. The organization has acomplished so much by advocating for and funding research, supporting families and much more. We celebrate, but I am also saddened that many other young moms are also still going through what I did to get treatment and diagnosis. I am saddened that tuberous sclerosis exists. Yet, as a mom who has raised a child to adulthood and lost her child to this disease, I am grateful for what tuberous sclerosis taught me about life, love and even her death.

Being a parent of a special needs child is life changing in so many ways, but in my case it changed my career and my perspective on life in general. It made me appreciate little things and focus on what is really important in life.

It also taught me valuable lessons on letting go of a child as she grew. I learned to finally let go and let my disabled daughter have more of life of her own, despite her disabilities. It is very hard, when you miss those developmental milestones that non disabled kids have — when your child goes to kindergarten, off to college, work, marriage — to know when and how much to let go and encourage independence in a child who is basically totally or semi- dependent on you. The need to protect our vulnerable child is great and the tendency to overprotect always exists.

It was hard to step back and stop doing for her and let her do for herself. Dressing herself, going on the bus alone, spending the night away from me at a camp, having a boyfriend, and finally living in a group home with friends. All things other kids may do as they grow up, but for moms like us, whose child needs supervison and support in so many ways, it is hard to let go even a little.

Letting go and teaching independence is important so that we don’t actually encourage dependence without realizing it.

Teaching age appropriate behavior to a 20-year old who would just as soon wear Mickey Mouse t-shirts and play with toys, that she is a young adult and must dress and be treated as a young adult is hard. I learned how, with help from many in her life, and from her.

I also was pleasantly surprised by how well she adapted to life in a group home at age 27. I thought she’d miss me so much I’d have to bring her home in a week. Nope! She flourished with her newfound independence and social life with her housemates — something I couldn’t give her at home with just the two of us. I also couldn’t continue to give her 24-hour care while I had to work and sleep. She got fresh caretakers every eight hours who weren’t tired, cranky or had other things to do.

What is hard for parents to admit as we get older (and we will) — the 24-hour care taking can be too hard without help. And the time will come when we can’t do it any more due to our age or illness.

We have to really be realistic about helping our child find a place in the world as an adult without us while we are still around to help them transition. It’s harder if we die and they experience the grief of missing us and have to transition to a new home. That is the letting go and the transition we all worry about the most. We worry no one else will care for her or him as we do.

As a special education teacher of young adults 16 -22, I often heard parents say, “She can’t or won’t do that at home. How did you get her to do that?” Some of my students had very low ability, but were able to work with some support and could learn to do things like cook, load dishwashers and do laundry for themselves. Things their parents didn’t let them do because they thought they couldn’t. It’s always amazing what they can do when we let go. I learned that my very delayed and disabled daughter could do so much more than I ever thought or would have allowed her to do until I learned to let go some!

Every child is different and every state and family has different resources available, but it is something to think about for every parent.

Teaching independence and letting go is something to do gradually. After all, we all want all of our children to be happy, have a social life of some kind, to experience love and friendship, and to be able to support themselves in some way. They can’t do that if we dont teach independence and responsibility to all our children.

Stacia taught me much in life. Tolerance, patience, unconditional love, selflessness and how to see the world through her eyes. Her life was a gift to me in so many ways, although battling her disease was also hell in so many ways.

I am grateful for the support the TS Alliance gives parents today, and for the hope that all our children with disabilities will have better lives to live and increased opportunities to do so in today’s world. We can all help them by increasing awareness of not only TSC, but of all those with disabilities and their need for acceptance, employment, education and a place in society.

Please see Susan’s contribution from last year’s blogging event about the founding of the TS Alliance.

From Becky (Mixed Up Mommy): Thank you so much to everyone who contributed this year! It has been a pleasure to share your stories and read your personal or your child’s triumphs. I leave you with some artistic contributions from TSC warriors.

Guest Bloggers For TSC Awareness Month, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

I knew there had to be something wrong for the EEG to continue…

May 31, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt Leave a comment

Second Annual “Blogging for TSC Awareness Month” Day 31

by guest blogger Sandy Rhodes (Altoona, Pennsylvania)

My husband and I were married two years when we decided to start our family. We had it all planned out to try for a child in the late fall so that I could deliver between semesters. I was accepted into a school for my Family Nurse Practitioner degree in 2012 and didn’t want to take a semester off. The stars must have aligned just right, because we found out in October we were expecting our first child! I cannot begin to tell you the emotions of seeing two positive pregnancy tests after trying for three months with no luck (I am aware that isn’t a really long time). I was so excited I called off work thinking the OB/GYN doctor would want to see me that day.

We had our first appointment in late November that confirmed our pregnancy. We told our families on Thanksgiving. They had to know something was up when I volunteered to do the blessing before the meal. The pregnancy was not anything unusual. I was sick the first twenty weeks with horrible nausea. I was sick daily and spent my fair share of time in the bathroom. My husband was a superstar during my pregnancy. He made it to every appointment, dopplered the baby’s heartbeat daily with our home Doppler, and cared for me on top of working full time. Our labs and ultrasound were all normal. We found out we were having a boy right before Easter 2013.

The labor and delivery of our son Camden was uncomplicated. I had a great epidural! My son Camden weighed in at 8 pounds ½ ounce born July 20, 2013. No one could believe the size of him. We brought Camden home July 22^nd with no complications. Things would stay relatively normal for approximately seven months.

February our lives changed forever. My husband was explaining an episode Camden had when he was giving him a bottle before bed. He said his arms flew up several times, and he was really fussy. I am a nurse and wrote the entire situation off as the startle reflex. It was two days later walking through Walmart when I witnessed an episode for myself. It made me uneasy to see Camden’s arm rising up to the left and his head turning that way in a series of pull like motions. I told my husband I would call the pediatrician in the morning because Camden seemed fine before and after the episodes. I thought maybe he was teething or had a low grade temp. That night as I was rocking Cam to sleep he had an episode in my arms. This is when I knew things were more wrong than I could figure out. I called our pediatrician on call who told me if it was his son he’d go to Pittsburgh Children’s Hospital. We packed a bag, called our parents, and drove the two hours to Children’s. My father and mother -in-law made the trip with us, thankfully.

We checked in and were taken to a bay in the ER. They were very slow that night and we received several ideas that seemed like minor fixes. The ER physician said he believed Camden was having intestinal pain and a minor laparoscopic surgery would easily correct this common retropulsion issue. Camden’s electrolytes came back with high potassium, but that was later found to be hemolyzed and inaccurate. That would’ve required the administration of medication to make him poop out the extra potassium. While in the ER bay Cam had another episode. I yelled at my husband to find a doctor and pulled my cell phone out to record what I was seeing.

We were admitted and Cam was given an IV bolus of Keppra. This made things so much worse. He had several more episodes when we reached our room. We were hooked up to an EEG machine in the wee hours of the morning for an hour long study. Cam only had one episode during this time. When the tech came to remove Cam’s leads he received a call stating he was to be left on the machine. My heart sank. I knew there had to be something wrong for the EEG to continue. Three hours into the EEG a neurologist came into the room. He explained that the EEG was showing hypsarrhythmia. This was a common feature of infantile spasms. I was kind of optimistic in the next few seconds thinking how minor most spasms are. The optimism was short lived as the physician continued to say the word epilepsy. How could my baby have epilepsy? We aren’t epileptic, our family has no history, there were no problems during my pregnancy, and he was an uncomplicated delivery! He ordered an MRI for that day.

So much had happened in half a day. I was sitting in the noisy MRI machine as my sedated baby underwent his testing. I remember praying to God to make things ok and get us home. I remember picking him up off of the table to go to recovery where my husband was waiting. I laid him down on the table so the nurse could get vital signs. The BP had not even come up yet on the machine when two physicians entered the room. We were prepping Cam for a lumbar puncture to rule out infection at this time. Then another nurse came in and removed the LP tray. The doctors looked at Mike and me and asked us to sit down. I lost it. I knew in that instant there was something drastically wrong. My mind was running wild thinking about tumors and defects and malformations.

The neurologist from earlier started by saying your son has a textbook case of tuberous sclerosis. I was sobbing and had no idea what tuberous sclerosis was. I remember trying to write down the name so I could relay it to our family, but the pen in my hand felt foreign. The doctor explained there was an amazing website to look for information because we might become overwhelmed if we use Google (TS Alliance.org). They told us our son would most likely be autistic, have delays, and had potential for other organ involvement. They remained with us for about ten minutes of crying questions about outcomes, treatments, and pathology of TSC. I asked them to spell vigabatrin about three times before I just gave up. They left us with our sedated son and the nurse.

How could this be happening to our baby? We had prayed and planned for him. We had zero neurological history anywhere on our family trees. Could things be any more crazy and devastating!? We stayed in our devastated state for several hours, inconsolable. Our parents were trying to be positive, but we were stuck with the reality our son would have TSC for life. He could potentially some day want to have children and have to deal with this ugly disease.

It was later that night a nurse sat down with us and brought us a computer to look at the TS Alliance site. We read about others with the disease and actually watched videos of other babies having infantile spasms. It was uplifting to read positive stories of achievements and children reaching milestones. This was our first glimmer of hope that we held onto and used to fuel us to remain positive. Camden had an echo, renal ultrasound, and EKG that were normal. We used this as motivation as well. The entire four-day admission our son was pleasant and cooperative with testing.

On Sunday February 10 they decided our son was a candidate for Sabril. We signed consent forms and had our supply for home delivered that evening to Children’s Hospital. Cam received his first dose in the hospital. Monday he had his eyes dilated for an eye exam which was normal, and we were discharged home. Our five day stay in the hospital revealed more than anyone could’ve ever guessed. We had a diagnosis no one locally had ever heard about.

At home we continued Sabril. Camden’s last episode of IS was February 16. He has become an even happier baby with the use of Sabril. I rely on the TS Alliance for updates and support on a daily basis. This diagnosis is not a death sentence. The overall vibe from Pittsburgh Children’s Hospital was professional and geared at being prepared for the worst. They have been excellent with our follow up care, and we have grown extremely found of Dr. Thodeson who will be leaving in June. We found our way to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital for a research study and felt a completely different vibe. They are all more personal and positive. It has been amazing to have exposure at two TS Clinics. We are in this for the long run to do everything in our power to better our son’s life. We will go anywhere, pay anything, and be there 24/7 for every up and down. This disease is filled with ups and downs. We are pretty new to the TS community, but the welcoming and support has really kept our faith alive. We pray every day for our son to live a long life, learn from everyone, and love all. We are not going to let TSC define our baby. He will show TSC who is boss! He’s come so far already. He is 10 months old and has not yet had any delays. He rolls, crawls, babbles, and has the greatest smile. We are thankful every second of every day to have Camden the baby we prayed and planned for!

Georgia, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

I agree to jump through your hoops. Can’t you just agree to just hold them steady?

May 30, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 3 Comments

I had the most ridiculous morning Friday thanks to the Georgia Department of Human Services. I am unconvinced they know the definition of either “human” or “service.”

It started Thursday evening. I received an automated phone call from them informing me that they had tried to mail me something on behalf of Connor, but it had been returned to them due to an incorrect address. Since it must relate to one of the programs Connor has qualified for, either Katie Beckett or HIPP, this concerns me. We’ve changed our address with them, but whatever, right? I was given two numbers to call the next day — as it was after seven (thanks for making me worry when it’s too late to do anything) — a local and a toll free.

Friday morning around 8:30 I attempt to call the local number. Call fails, so I call the toll free number. I spend seven minutes, according to my phone log, trying to navigate the automated system to get a person. I end up trapped in a dead end when I make a selection for which I don’t have the information to input that they want. So I hang up and call again. I try hitting anything to get a person. After I slam my phone down still connected, Chris takes it and successfully gets a person on the line who informs him that she can see us in the system, but she doesn’t know what was mailed. She gives us another number to call.

I call it. Then I spend almost 45 MINUTES on hold. In the time I wait, I give Connor breakfast, get dressed and carry my phone and Connor’s KB Medicaid card around the house with me in case they need his Medicaid number. When she finally picks up, I realize I’ve left the card somewhere and I have no idea where. She’s asking for his social or some other number. I am already about to lose it, so I’m shrieking, “Shit! I had it the whole 45 minutes I was on hold and now it’s gone!”

She keeps telling me to give her some other identification number I don’t have, so I run up to Chris to get Connor’s social security number that I so desperately need to memorize, but agencies like this have left no room in my brain to keep it, and I give it to her. She keeps asking me for some other number and I tell her I don’t know what she’s talking about. At this point Chris takes the phone and goes off. He basically has to tell her to shut up and listen and use the social security number. A total of 49 minutes was spent only to be told, again, that she can’t see what was mailed to us either. Call your local agency.

By now, I’m late taking Connor to music therapy and about to have an angry, ugly cry meltdown because my morning has been ruined, my happy baby trying to get my attention to no avail, all so I can return a phone call to an inept agency when I don’t even know if it actually matters or is important.

Well, we’ve been getting our monthly HIPP checks with no issue. And I sent in all the paperwork for Connor’s Katie Beckett renewal last week. KB is the only thing up in the air, so in order to save my sanity, Chris makes the call to our local agency and to Connor’s caseworker leaving a voicemail to find out if she has received the paperwork and if she knows what was returned to them to trigger this auto call. Well over an hour spent returning a phone call and I still don’t know what the problem is.

This is after the recent ordeal of renewing Connor’s Katie Beckett Medicaid. KB is a fantastic program. It provides a secondary insurance to kids who have private primary insurance and major medical issues, but it is not based on income. It helps cover costs that are not covered by our primary insurance. We first applied last year with the help of Connor’s early intervention caseworker. The application is a lot of work and a lot of information to gather, but worth the end result. Then the letter came that it was time to renew. We were directed to fill out an online application. We were naive and new to the game so we did it. Several weeks later, we received a denial stating we hadn’t submitted all the requested information. I quickly garnered in FB support groups that 1. it’s better to have them send you the full paperwork packet all together — the online form consistently spells trouble as it’s not really intended for KB recipients, and 2. even if I do fill out the online form, I should then receive a packet asking for additional information, doctor forms, and — naturally — a lot of the same information already asked online. We never received the packet. Just a rejection. I started trying to call for help. You know what you get? A lot of voicemail boxes. Boxes that are full. The denial letter offered me the opportunity for a hearing — you know, in a court. With judges and lawyers. I don’t pay anything out of pocket, except as a taxpayer. Like you. All to get a benefit for which my son no doubt qualifies. I learned in the support groups that this is very common and that you pretty much always get it on appeal at that pesky additional cost to the taxpayers. Then I speak with someone else who advises getting in touch with Connor’s caseworker and seeing if she’ll just give me an extension. Once I finally get the VM when it’s not full, I finally can leave a message which results in the needed extension. We currently await the results of our completed renewal application.

This renewal will happen every year even though Connor has an incurable condition. That’s how it is for everyone.

I’ve been hesitant to be critical of programs that I am so grateful for. We’ve been very lucky in Georgia. I read terrible stories in my support groups of people in other states trying to get their children into the early intervention programs and being wait-listed (which defeats the entire purpose of EARLY intervention), some states have Katie Beckett wait lists so long the kids age out before receiving benefits and HIPP — which is a huge financial support for Connor — isn’t available everywhere. He receives KB and HIPP because our family has too much income for him to qualify for social security disability.

I agree to jump through your hoops. Can’t you just agree to hold them steady?

I have filled out your paperwork and gathered your very specific requirements of what kind of specialists must provide evaluations of my son (ironically, this leads to you considering an evaluation from someone who saw him once to a much higher value than anything submitted by his regular doctors and therapists that see him all the time). I have made the drives back and forth to the office when my carefully organized packet still turned out to be lacking something.

If we screw up, the penalty for our kids is huge. That’s why we parents jump these hoops. That’s why we give each other tips in support groups. That’s why countless parents lose sleep every year when KB and HIPP renewal rolls around.

Yet the hoops keep moving and changing. Full voice mails, directions to call numbers where no one can help, paperwork not being sent, paperwork being sent minus essential forms, required forms not being available online, people having to go to hearings when if the process was clear and streamlined, it wouldn’t be necessary. You have made it impossible to return a simple phone call.

How much taxpayer money is wasted on these inadequacies? I’ve heard more people are losing benefits as the belts tighten. Maybe if this system worked, more money could be spent helping people. I’m more than happy to submit the proof you need, but perhaps we can agree that an annual renewal for kids who have incurable conditions is excessive? How much time and paper and manpower could be saved on that alone?

Truly, Georgia, I appreciate these programs. I don’t feel entitled. I feel grateful. But special needs parents have to reserve our energy and sanity for more important things.

I need my energy to stay positive on the days when Connor has a setback with his seizure control and wakes up with a violent tonic clonic.

I need my energy for being patient while waiting for my 2-year-old to say his first word.

I need my energy for carrying my 2-year-old who WILL walk…but isn’t YET.

I need my energy for mixing meds twice a day.

I need my energy to fight a government that thinks my child’s access to medical cannabis should be based on his zip code.

I need my energy to keep track of 4- 7 therapy appointments a week.

I need my energy to coordinate an MRI and doctor’s appointment in a very narrow window of when we will be in Boston for a TSC study and when his doctor is actually available.

I need my energy to make multiple follow up calls to hospitals and doctors to remind them they should have billed secondary or that they never sent a form I asked for three times already.

I need my energy to trouble shoot my son’s medical diet for seizures and figure out why it isn’t working as well now as it was in the beginning, and also to force him to eat when he doesn’t want to, because not eating = more seizures.

You see, I simply don’t have anything left for you. I will fill out your forms and collect your documents. I will meet your deadlines. I will provide you whatever evidence you need to believe that my son has an incurable genetic condition that causes seizures and developmental delay. But that’s all I have to give. The energy supply is gone. I can’t sit slumped in the waiting room of music therapy, drained from trying to return a phone call.

Please, please stop moving the hoop.

Guest Bloggers For TSC Awareness Month, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

I didn’t hear anything from that moment on even though I saw the doctor’s mouth moving, except “there is no cure.”

May 30, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 1 Comment

Second Annual “Blogging for TSC Awareness Month” Day 30

by guest blogger Katie Creamer (Long Beach, California)

Two and half years ago one of my biggest dreams had come true; I was so happy and extremely proud when my healthy and beautiful baby boy was born. My husband and I had been waiting and preparing the best we could for this exact moment for a long time and we were finally ready. My baby was perfect; beautiful, big, had a full head of hair already, had 10 fingers and toes, and alert from the first moment we met.

This being our first baby it took us a while to understand each other’s needs as I recovered from my Cesarian section and immediately started breast feeding, but within a few weeks we were perfectly in sync and in pure bliss. Being a mom was amazing and I immediately knew why I was put on this earth; to be Keenan’s mommy. When I look back at those first few weeks, the only clue we had that our life would soon be shocked to the core was a white spot/ birthmark on his knee that our pediatrician had waved off as no big deal. We quickly began the newborn pattern of the day filled with eating, sleeping, and pooping; we thought everything was perfectly normal.

Where our story is slightly different then a lot of others lies within the next 18 months. We lived the next 18 months as a normal, healthy, happy new family. Keenan hit milestones on time and was a constant thrill to watch him cognitively advance and become a little person. We were doing perfect and beginning to plan for a sibling for Keenan in the future. Then at 19 months old Keenan spiked his first high fever which caused a “febrile seizure.” Witnessing that was what I thought would be the scariest moment of my life. We called 911, had our first ambulance ride, and by the time we got to the hospital everything had settled down. We were told Keenan had just had a febrile seizure which was explained to us as “no big deal” and “some kids are just susceptible to this, but they eventually grow out of it.” Next time, “just remain calm, then when it stops bring him in afterward”, “they can last up to 15 minutes, but just try to remain calm.” We were told this is common (we even saw another baby come in after a febrile seizure while we were there), we were told how to avoid fever spikes and seizures in the future with high doses of Advil and Tylenol, and then sent home. Proud of how my husband and I handled this emergency and what we thought might be our biggest challenge, we went on with our lives. I researched what I could and tried not to worry too much, till six weeks later when Keenan had another fever. With this fever I was ready with alarms for meds throughout the night but didn’t need them because I didn’t sleep at all and just watched him through the night like a hawk. He had made it through the night without a problem so I went to work in the morning and left Keenan in my husband’s capable hands.

I’ll never forget at 10 am when I was finally able to check my cell phone and saw that I had five missed calls from my husband. Listening to the voicemails confirmed my worst fears, I could hear my husband saying, “it’s ok Keenan, daddy’s here.” My heart dropped because I knew Keenan was having a seizure. I called my husband quickly to find out what hospital to meet him at, and to my surprise he hadn’t called 911 yet, now realizing he was following the ER doctors instructions and he was following perfectly, “waiting it out.” My mama gut came screaming out and told him to call 911, and he did. When the paramedics had arrived he had been seizing for over 20 minutes and they had to sedate him to stop the seizure. Looking back, our first mistake was listening to the ER doctor. My son had experienced a status event.

After a few hours of my son lying lifelessly in the ER, he started to struggle to open his eyes and make sense of his situation. Quickly we noticed that he could not move his entire left side or even move his eyes to the left even when I called him. We were scared to death and a CAT scan was done on his brain right away. Within 15 min they told us that he had a brain tumor and multiple “lesions” on his brain, and they told us he had something we had never heard of, Tuberous Sclerosis. I didn’t hear anything from that moment on even though I saw the doctor’s mouth moving, except then I heard “there is no cure.”

We sat in shock for the next two weeks, researching what we could (but the internet scared us to death) and making many specialist doctor appointments. We heard many grim possibilities, but the scariest we heard was that “how this disease will affect your son can not be predicted” and it’s all about dealing with one symptom at a time as they pop up for the rest of his life. Keenan also has been diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease, has a “medium burden” of tubers in his brain, one SEGA, and multiple nodules. We now sit in the unknown trying to cherish every moment because we have no idea what the future will bring.

Coming up on 1 year since Keenan’s diagnosis we have gone through three different anti-seizure meds trying to control his 4-20 seizures a day without any success, we have faced the tremendous life changing decision to make to try brain surgery on our 2 and a half year old son to try to stop the seizures, Keenan has to have MRI’s every 6 months on his brain and abdomen to watch the multiple tumors and cysts on his kidneys, and blood work every 3 months. Everything and all his tumors have to be monitored to decide when the next major decision has to be made.

Sometimes we feel like we are just waiting for the next bomb to drop, but we have learned so much in this past year. The major lesson we’ve learned is to prepare for the future but live in the moment: whether it be good or bad it won’t last long. So cherish the good times and live them to the fullest!

Living in Atlanta, loving travel and watching my son kick tuberous sclerosis complex's butt.