Tag Archives: Epileptic seizure

I’m turning into such a slob.

The write-from-home, stay-at-home mom thing is making me really lazy. If you had told me in my teaching days that I’d let my gray roots get so far before taking action or equate getting dressed to climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro or stretch out the months between haircuts to such an extreme, I wouldn’t have believed you. And yet, I maintain my love of clothes shopping, despite the fact that I’m too sluggish to put them on anywhere but a dressing room.

I also realized I need to pull myself out of a clothes rut:

IMG_5372

But I did finally get a haircut:

IMG_5731

The first thing my stylist said was, “Somebody’s been playing with color!” Sigh. Yes. Once again I’ve managed to start unintentionally turning my hair black with Nice ‘n Easy. Unfortunately, it just ain’t in the budget to do it professionally all the time. Especially since we have to pay off the hit we took when our old house under appraised, finish painting the new house, and — come hell or high water — we’re going on vacations again in 2014. We’ve gone on trips — that’s what you call it when you take the kid — but we are going on vacations –what you call it when you drop the kids off at Grandma and Grandpa’s and outrun them back to the car. And just Friday I received the exciting news that one of my good friends is engaged and I will likely be attending a wedding overseas in about a year!

Looks like I reloaded my Fitness Pal App just in time. I’ve been inputting my food intake for a week now to track my calories. I think it will really help this time since I find myself genuinely debating the merits of one Oreo cookie vs. two pieces of leftover Halloween candy. I started this right before the holidays because I really like a challenge. Also, I’m tackling my weight loss with a very specific strategy:

IMG_5723But here I’ve gone on and on about me when I know pretty well most — okay fine — all of you really only care about Connor, so…

Here he is relaxing with a puzzle:

IMG_5730To be clear, he only likes taking them apart and throwing the pieces everywhere.

This is what happens when I get up in his business about his molars:

IMG_5744

And this pictures really doesn’t do justice to how much it hurt, right on the bone. And he wouldn’t let go. I almost panicked and smacked him, but refrained. I now know I will perform poorly in the event of an attack by a dog — or alligator. I believe the recommendation is to push toward the animal, not to pull away. Fail. Also, the state of my nails is not indicative of my current state of laziness. I’ve always been too lazy for mani/pedis. I regard them as annoying appointments to keep, like doctors. Random side story, though you can’t really tell in the picture, that nail is totally deformed from the time I slammed it in a car door when I was 15. It grows warped and downward the longer it gets, kind of like the creepy Guinness World Record keeper with the longest fingernails. But there I go about me again.

Go check out this page created for epilepsy awareness by a man who lost his young wife to epilepsy. He has been sharing people’s epilepsy stories all month for Epilepsy Awareness Month. He also makes these to share:

IMG_5692

For those that might be confused, I don’t know if there is an Abigail, Ga — that was a misunderstanding — and my aforementioned laziness precludes me from Googling it. But these are pretty awesome. Check out his gallery of E-heros!

Relieved after talking to the neurologist.

Feeling much better this morning after an appointment with Connor’s neurologist. We were dismayed to hear about changes on the ERG, but I really freaked out yesterday when his medical assistant mentioned in an e-mail that he wanted to discuss the ketogenic diet. The ketogenic diet is no joke–read here–it involves hospitalization to start it, measuring everything he eats and it’s more extreme than Atkins. I have never wanted to do the keto diet and have always hoped it would never even be a consideration.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not off the table and I understand why people do it, and some have great success, but it just seems like a nightmare to me. I hope to find seizure control another way.

I was really freaked thinking we were going to be told Connor MUST come off the vigabatrin immediately and that the keto diet would be on the immediate horizon. Thankfully, not the case. While a change on the ERG is reason for concern and close monitoring, our doctor said to also take it with a grain of salt. Many parts of the country, people aren’t even doing these because it’s somewhat unreliable at this age. It can’t tell you how much vision is being affected, if at all, only that the retina isn’t responding quite the same way with one of the wavelengths or something–honestly I don’t understand it well enough to explain it. Sometimes, later tests go back to normal and it was just an anomaly, and yes, sometimes the peripheral vision is affected, but the positives of the meds outweigh the negatives. In his experience, most of the time a kid has gone off due to changes on the ERG, they ended up back on it because it was simply the most effective med for them. Unfortunately, keeping the seizures at bay must take precedence over perfect vision. If it was an issue of blindness, I’d be much for freaked out, but hopefully, if he does suffer any loss to peripheral vision, he will learn to compensate.

We do have to decide if we go back for another ERG in a month, or wait the standard three months. He didn’t seem to think it was worth the sedation to go back in a month, though. Obviously, we could have to face decisions over again if we continue to see changes, but hopefully that won’t be the case.

As far as the keto diet goes, he brought that up more as a possibility, and he felt the modified Atkins diet was equally good (and less insane–my words, not his). We will revisit that in a few weeks after we see what happens with the increases in Onfi. We are also finally weaning Keppra- the drug that has been the unchanging constant through all this. We’re not sure it’s really doing anything, so we’ll monitor and see what happens.

He also said down the road, there are other drugs we haven’t tried, though he can’t vouch for them when so many have failed. And we can also revisit surgical options as well as VNS. VNS doesn’t thrill me, as I haven’t seen as much success with that online as I would like for such a major surgical/implant intervention. What is VNS? Read here. That being said, like any treatment, one person’s fail is another’s miracle.

Please cross your fingers for the vigabatrin/Onfi combo and no further change on the ERG!

Last night, we attended a meeting with a Met Life rep regarding financial planning for special needs. The truth is, we don’t know where TSC will have Connor as an adult. Maybe he’ll be doing great and self-supporting, but we just don’t know at this point. So it was time to look into how to plan for the possibility that he may not live entirely independently, possibly because of cognitive issues, or maybe because of health/epilepsy issues. Thank goodness, we did! It’s pretty easy to complicate your child’s situation and have no idea you are doing so. If you have a child receiving any government benefits, such as Katie Beckett or if they are over 18 on SSI, if they inherit anything adding up to over $2,000 they can lose their benefits! Who came up with that number as a cutoff? Seriously? And can so easily happen by accident–savings bonds purchased for them by a relative, naming them directly on a will, putting them as your life insurance beneficiary, or just not having a will and they automatically inherit. Once those assets are spent, they can reapply, but those of us who have applied for such things know how nightmarish it can be. And losing them even temporarily can wreak havoc. The presenter shared a story of a woman in her 50s or 60s living in a group home supported by Medicaid. She had been there for a long time. When her parents passed, they had no will and she inherited what they had, which wasn’t much. She had to move out of the home, and within a few months the assets were spent. She could then reapply, but her spot had been taken. She lost her parents and her home.

We will have to have a special needs lawyer help us with a special needs trust that will protect him from anything like that. Anything that he inherits must go to the trust. That way, if he’s receiving any benefits they won’t be affected. Don’t worry, the government gets theirs. This kind of trust is taxed at one of the highest rates, in case you were worried they’d run out of barricades for our national monuments.

 

 

298465_187704037963818_1579148_n

Join us for a meeting with new Atlanta TSC clinic director, Dr. Wolf!
Sunday, November 10, 2013
2 – 4 p.m.
Mount Vernon Baptist Church
850 Mt. Vernon Hwy NW
Sandy Springs, GA 30327

Dr. David Wolf will be spending his afternoon meeting the local TSC individuals and families of the TS Alliance of Atlanta/North Georgia. Join us for this valuable opportunity to meet both Dr. Wolf and other local TSC individuals and families!
There will be light refreshments available.

RSVP to Becky pin.the.map@gmail.com

Remember when I gloated that we were done with vigabatrin? Oops.

Note: So I wrote this blog yesterday, but was unable to post it. “Why is that?” you probably didn’t ask…well, you know how Comcast never wants to come out the day you need them, or they give you a window of say, 4 to 8 p.m. and show up at 7:59? Well, try canceling your service. THAT they can do not just on time, but BEFORE you asked them to. Way to make a random burst of efficiency another aspect of your subpar business model. There is an update at the bottom from this morning. 

It was a grumpy weekend. We’ve been packing the house, getting ready to close on Friday, and I’ve not been able to summon any energy or interest in the process. Plus Connor’s seizures have been increasing. We were concerned a couple weeks ago when he had eight in a day. Then this past Thursday he had 13. Earlier this year we went a couple months with nothing! We had this beautiful period of time when we didn’t even touch our —Seizure Tracker App— What is going on? Then this happened:

photo-1

See that? Do you? 50 seizures in one day? What. The. Hell. Was. That.

A few possibilities. 1. We weaned him off Sabril (vigabatrin) a couple months ago and maybe that was a mistake? They’ve been increasing ever since. 2. Since Trileptal failed, we have been weaning him off and starting Onfi. Maybe he just hit an all time low of meds in his system as a period of time of low trileptal as we weaned and low Onfi as we started intersected.

Maybe there is still a chance Onfi will work? I hope so. We will obviously go back on vigabatrin if we have to, but I would really rather not with all the eye appts and ERGs that go along with it due to the risk to peripheral vision.

I called his neuro on Saturday when this was happening as someone is always on call. Everything always happens on weekends, doesn’t it? All those months I laid awake in fear of the onset of infantile spasms, I thought, I know they will start on a Friday night. They did. Thank God, that was how I discovered they have someone on call on the weekends. This weekend, however, it was someone covering for them, not his regular neuro or his partner that diagnosed him and also knows Connor well. He had me administer Klonipin 2x daily to get us through the weekend. I just got off the phone with Connor’s neuro and we discussed the concern of whether these could be spasm related, so I sent him the videos I was FINALLY able to get this weekend –these seizures come on so fast it has been a pain– and he went ahead and increased the Onfi.  Coincidentally we have an appointment with him tomorrow morning, so hopefully we can figure out a plan. My guess right now would be that we’ll probably give Onfi a little longer, since the seizures haven’t been AS crazy as Saturday and if we don’t see a change soon, back to vigabatrin. That’s my guess anyway. We’ll see in the morning.

I just don’t want anything setting him back. He’s doing great. He has gained so much in the last couple months. He only just started crawling and now he’s pulling to stand. Last Thursday in physical therapy we worked on showing him how to pull himself all the way up because he was only getting as far as his knees. The very next day he did it twice. And once again, we owe it to Emma Cat. His relentless pursuit of the most tolerant cat on Earth inspired him to try and get up the stairs. Getting mobile has really triggered his curiosity and he wants to get into everything. We don’t need a bunch of seizures slowing him down!

We also got his MRI results back from Boston. No growth! He has no SEGAS fortunately, and his SENs remain small. I’m waiting to receive more feedback on the tubers. Now that’s he older we should be able to get more details on the number of tubers and their precise locations. Hopefully this will help us target any potential issues he might have. For example, if he were to have one in his speech center, we would know that language development needs that much more attention.

The weekend wasn’t all bad though. My first planned event as the Chair of the TS Alliance of Atlanta/ North Georgia was Sunday. It was fun and I learned a lot about planning an event…haha. Some big lessons learned. But thanks to all who came out!

IMG_4929
IMG_4928
IMG_4927
IMG_4926
IMG_4925
IMG_4924
IMG_4923
IMG_4914
IMG_4913
IMG_4911
IMG_4908
IMG_4920
IMG_4919
IMG_4917
IMG_4916

IMG_4931

The movers come tomorrow to get us out. We will be staying with my parents in the meantime. My plan is basically, walk in the door, hand Connor to them, go to bed, wake up when Chris has unpacked everything in the new house.

What could go wrong with that?

Update: The house is empty! I felt kind of sad to see it…our first family home 😦

We had our neurology appointment this morning. After seeing the video, he felt they were epileptic spasms, and they clearly started to surface after he was initially weaned off vigabatrin. So back to the vigabatrin we go. Oh well, anything to stop the seizures. As much as I don’t enjoy mixing the packets (why can’t this med be made stable enough to come pre-made in liquid form!) or the regular eye appointments, it’s the ERGs I really don’t want to deal with. Ugh. But you gotta do what you gotta do.

So the plan is to start that, stay on the Onfi, and once we see a difference we can start weaning him off Keppra, one of the meds he’s been on almost since birth.

Tomorrow morning I get the joy of taking Connor to a 7:40 am eye appointment. It was to be his final required eye appointment due to his vigabatrin prescription. Now I get to hand him the paperwork to start all over again.

As Adam Sandler would say, “Whoop dee doo!”

Unknown

Focusing on Today

Day 22 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Cassie McClung  (Houston, Texas)

Avery1My husband and I learned that we were pregnant in the late spring of 2007. Married just two years, we were a bit surprised, but honestly thrilled beyond words. We had a ton of fun preparing for our new addition, even despite the fact that I was so horribly nauseated for the first five months that I lost 12 pounds. Her development, however, was always right on track, and every test and check-up went well. Just a month before her due date, we decided it would be fun to get the new 3-D ultrasound photos that we kept seeing at the doctor’s office. We ended up trying three different times. Every time we went, the baby had her arms up around her face, completely covering every feature. The first time was kind of cute. The second time was a little frustrating. The third time I asked the technician, “Isn’t it a little unusual to have her arms up every time?”

“Yes,” she said, flat out, “I’ve never experienced this before.” I remember my heart went into my throat. Could something be wrong? The doctor dismissed my concern later, telling me not to worry. I tried not to.

The next thing I knew my delivery date was around the corner but the baby was in breach position, so a C-section was scheduled. In late January of 2008, we were blessed with our beautiful daughter Avery. The surgical delivery went well, but within an hour of her birth, I was surrounded by a number of doctors with very serious faces.

They were concerned because it appeared that our precious newborn was having small but frequent seizures while under observation in the nursery. They bombarded me with a million questions at once. “Was she seizing in utero?” is the one that still stands out. WHAT?? What does that feel like? This was my first pregnancy. She kicked a lot, does that count? Were there other signs I should have noticed? I was stunned. Immediately, the doctors sent her away to a bigger hospital with a higher level N.I.C.U. I remember my Avery2delivery doctor turned to me and said, “I’m sorry,” before walking out the door, not to be seen again.

My husband and I were absolutely shocked and terrified.There was no holding, cuddling or bonding.  I tried to recover quickly from surgery, all the while imagining my baby girl across town under the care of who knows who, doing who knows what. Complete and utter torture. This was when I started thinking about the genetic condition that runs in my husband’s family. We were told previously by family members that we should not worry about it…that it was basically no big deal. Then I heard someone at the hospital say it for the first time. TS. Tuberous sclerosis. We hadn’t a clue.

I broke out of the hospital early and rushed to the N.I.C.U. I couldn’t believe how tiny she was, hooked up to so many tubes…all of the nurses knew her name. My Avery. They already knew so much about her. They’d spent so much more time with her than I had. It felt so strange. At first glance, she looked pretty and pink, sleeping peacefully like a typical newborn. And then I saw it. All of a sudden, she puckered her little lips, turned bright red, and her right arm extended straight out. It faded quickly, but there was no mistaking that she was seizing. Nothing could ever have prepared us for what happened next.

We were shown into a large meeting room across the hall. A doctor sat across from me and five or six med students and residents sat next to her. I’ll never understand why they were invited…why they needed to sit and watch this intrinsically personal experience unfold. They never spoke, just watched. The doctor slowly explained to us that Avery had been born with a rare genetic condition called tuberous sclerosis. Benign tumors grew willy nilly in her brain and heart. She had many of these growths in the left side of her brain, which were causing massive abnormalities and resulting in seizures. She also had a few in her heart, but they were not affecting her breathing, and we were told they would eventually disappear. Small victory. The ones in her brain, unfortunately, would not just go away.

Avery3So that’s when Avery’s brain surgeon appeared. Yep, my daughter has a brain surgeon. Surreal. And that’s when we found out that our newborn needed a radical brain surgery that was meant to end her seizures, or she would not survive: a hemispherectomy. The two sides of the brain would be disconnected from each other, and large portions of “bad brain” would be removed from the left side. Before we could even begin to digest this information, the surgeon went on to explain that he had never performed this surgery on a baby less than nine months old, and most of his colleagues had told him he was crazy. But that it was her only chance.

This is the part where I have to pause and breathe. Because more than two years after the fact, I can still feel the residual effects of this man’s words pulsating through my mind and body. I can still close my eyes and remember the breath-stealing sobs I cried as I said goodbye to my week-old daughter and heartbrokenly handed her to the nurse that would take her to the operating room. We waited hours and hours, hardly breathing, wondering if we made the right decision. It was, and Avery did beautifully. Her strength amazed us. It still does! She was in and out of brain surgery three times in her first month of life. She came home after one month and five days in the hospital, eating on her own, cooing and wiggling. The seizures had completely stopped. We had renewed hope, renewed faith. Her future appeared so much brighter.

We were told by the doctors that there was really no way to predict her future as far as cognitive and physical ability; but the upside was that the earlier the surgery, the better– i.e. giving the “normal” side of her brain time to take over tasks that the opposite side can’t handle anymore…and we couldn’t have done it any earlier!

Avery actually needed two more brain surgeries, at three months of age and at five months, before the seizures stopped returning. She continued taking Vigabatrin (Sabril) for the next four years as a back-up, in case they did try to come back. It was the only drug that had ever slowed down her seizures before.

For four years, Avery thoroughly enjoyed a total break from seizures, as did her parents. We were busy attending to her other many needs, like the fact that the surgery had resulted in the left side of her body being extremely weakened (hemiparesis). No one ever mentioned this side effect before surgery. It was then, and is now, our biggest challenge among many. When she was still not sitting up by herself at 18 months and after lots of therapy, we knew we needed a lot more help. We were lucky enough to find an amazing, private special needs preschool that had experience with children just like Avery. They taught her to sit and scoot. They taught her sign language, how to drink with a straw, and how to use a fork and spoon. And they continue to teach her now. I don’t know what we’d do without these amazing teachers that love my daughter for exactly who she is, and not what she lacks.

Sadly, this past year the seizures returned. We were devastated of course, but not surprised. We knew it was a miracle that they stopped for as long as they did. They are under Avery4control again now with new meds: Onfi and Vimpat. She seems a little more tired now, but overall a happier disposition.

Walking is still our biggest goal. The left side of her body just doesn’t want to cooperate! Although still extremely developmentally delayed, her cognitive skills continue improving. No words yet, but lots of sounds. We have three PT’s, two OT’s and two SP sessions every single week, on top of her school “work.” Avery works harder than any kid I know, and she does it with a smile. She has taught us endless lessons about love, grace, and the simple joys in life. Almost two years ago, we were blessed with another sweet girl! A healthy, TS free little sister, who dotes on her older sister.

As many special needs moms have said before me, it’s impossible to focus on the future right now. In order to get there, we have to focus on today. Today she is healthy, happy and working as hard as she possibly can to reach her potential. What that is, no one knows, but we will move heaven and earth to get her there.

Please check out Cassie’s blog at www.abubslifeblog.blogspot.com

It Affects Us All

Day 18 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Tina Carver   (Eureka, California)

Please check out Tina’s blog at http://captainjacktastic.wordpress.com

Jackson and Tina.
Jackson and Tina.

Prior to April 2009, all that I knew about Tuberous Sclerosis Complex would fit on the head of an angel dancing on the head of a pin.
In other words:
NOTHING.
Never heard of it. AT ALL.

Once I met Jack, all of that changed.
I became Jack’s stepmom in September of 2010, and shortly thereafter, his birth mother left the area, leaving us with sole custody.

Now, I have to be honest.  The hardest part of Jack’s TSC  had already happened.  The in vitro diagnosis.  The debilitating and never ending febrile seizures.  The rounds and rounds of various seizure meds.  The brain surgery.

That all happened BEFORE.

In the TSC community I feel a bit adrift — I get asked questions about the specifics of his disease — the types of tumors, etc– and I cannot answer them.

My life with TSC is all about moving forward and making Jack’s life the best it can be in the here and now.  It is also about dealing with how the disease affects US: myself, my husband, my daughter.

Our life revolves around “what if’s”.  Every plan that we have has a back up- “just in case”.  We have emergency seizure meds in each of our cars, Jack’s backpack, the home.  We plan and plot ANY trip to make sure we are near hospitals.  My husband and I get THREE WHOLE hours a week to be adults outside the house.  My daughter knows that any school function most likely means only ONE OF US will be there (respite is a harsh mistress). Tuberous Sclerosis may have had its way with Jack, but it also has the rest of us in its grip EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Jackson and Dad.
Jackson and Dad.

But there are days……lovely days like last Sunday when all of us were in the backyard.  My daughter running fully clothed through the sprinklers, much to the delight of Jack who had his favorite spot on what he calls the bouncepoline.  The sky was clear and sunny.  There was laughter from all.  And it’s for these moments that we continue on.  THAT is what makes it worth it all.  We forge ahead because these moments make life worthwhile.  These moments balance those tense moments in the ER, the sedation for MRIs, and the uncertainty of the future.

Now, to be honest, how Tuberous Sclerosis has had its way with Jack has NOT been kind-

Febrile seizures have left permanent damage.
There is a thick scar that crosses his scalp from brain surgery.
There are developmental delays.  There are physical issues.
There are over 30 tumors in his brain.

But over the past few years we have seen progress.
We have speech and communication.
We have staid the growth of the tumors.
We have found the right cocktail of meds to keep away the seizures.
And Jackson the boy is blossoming……

SO what else can I say about this disease that I have come to know and loathe?
That it took away one boy and left us another.
One that I love just the same.

Jackson hanging out in Darrah's room.
Jackson hanging out in Darrah’s room.

JACKSON The Poem

In my dreams

I constantly see

You

Your smile so bright

and beautiful

A mischievous grin

to match the

glint in  those

bright blue

Eyes

You run

Untroubled

Carefree

with an easy

and natural

gait.

Laughter unfettered

Musical

And there are

no tumors

no damage

Or delays.

There is only a boy

who is

Not You.

Jack loves the number 9.
Jack loves the number 9.

Humor Gets Us Through the TSC Battlefield

Day 16 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness

By guest blogger Renee Seiling  (Westbury, New York)

tsc walkMy husband and I married in 2007 after dating for over six years. We always planned to try and start a family in September 2008, and we did get pregnant that month. But we never planned for our daughter to be born with an incurable disease.

May 15, 2009 we heard devastating news; they found rhabdomyomas on our unborn daughter when we were 35 weeks pregnant. That is when we first heard the words tuberous sclerosis. I remember crying at home that night and my husband said to me “She can feel everything from you. You are stronger than this and she is going to get her strength from you, so no tears, so she’s as tough as you are.” He was right, so I started doing research, met with genetics doctors, cardiologists and had sonograms every 3 days to check on her. They induced our pregnancy three weeks early and admitted her to the NICU.

It was so hard to not have your baby in the room with you and having to go down to the NICU for feedings and for the doctor’s rounds. But the hardest was watching the days when babies were not well and they would be crashing right before your eyes. I did not know any of the moms there, but we all felt for each other. Seeing babies that have lived there for four months made you realize that you did not have it so bad.

When she was 4 days old a brain MRI confirmed TSC. Zoey was born with countless tubers on her brain and a subependymal giant astrocytoma (SEGA) as well. We were told by her neurosurgeon that it is the second largest SEGA he has ever seen, lucky us.  Fortunately we were also told that if it ever grew it is operable. Zoey had blood work to find the strand of TSC she might have and at 8 weeks old it was confirmed she has TSC-2.

We had Zoey start early intervention when she was 4 months old, one of the greatest decisions we ever made. She was granted physical therapy, and we met Sonny. Sonny was Zoey’s first best friend. He came to our home 3 times a week, and Zoey just loved him. He helped us through all of the hard times. He was there for her no matter what. When we intubatedmoved from Queens, NY to Long Island, he even followed us. He made sure he found a company that also worked with Long Island early intervention so he could stay with her. He was with us for 3 years, and I cried on his last day. He will always be remembered.

Zoey also had speech therapy and occupational therapy at home three times a week. We met Hadiah, a no nonsense OT who always made Zoey work harder and still have fun, and Kelly, her speech therapist ,with whom Zoey fell in love with immediately. Her bubbly personality helped Zoey sit through her 45 minute sessions.

Zoey is developmentally delayed; she has been going to school since she was 2. Zoey has a team of therapists and teachers that have helped tremendously. Zoey can wave hello and goodbye, blow me a kiss, give high fives, climb stairs, run, jump and loves spinning to get herself dizzy. These are simple gestures that I thought she was never going to be able to accomplish. While she is non-verbal, we always have hope that one day she might find her voice.

Zoey has been through more in her four years of existence than most go through in a lifetime. When she was 6 ½ months old she started having infantile spasms, I remember calling the on-call pediatrician because it was a Sunday, and she told me, oh she’s probably just teething. Zoey would cry, and when she stopped, her arms would go above her head and her thanksgiving at columbia presbyterianeyes would roll to the back of her head while her legs crunched up. I knew it was not teething, so I called her everytime she had a spasm and had an EEG appointment made in two days.

Zoey spent her first Christmas Eve in the hospital and started a steroid, ACTH. I had to give her an injection every morning in her thigh. I remember the first time I had to do it at home. My dad came over to help me and hold her leg because I was so scared she was going to move. Lets face it, this steroid was a nightmare. All she wanted to do was eat, sleep and poop. But thankfully, because of the TS alliance, I was able to make contact with a fellow TSC mom, Cindy. She helped me get an appointment with a new neurologist, Dr. Orrin Devinsky, at NYU. He wanted her to start Sabril immediately. I am not even sure if Cindy remembers helping us, or if I ever thanked her enough because with Sabril, Zoey’s spasms stopped after the first dose and she still has to take this medication twice a day.

Zoey’s development had worsened after the spasms. She had a difficult time trying to crawl because she had gained five pounds in three weeks from the steroid, but Sonny, our superhero helped her. She was crawling at 9 months and started walking at 15 months old.

Then when she was 17 months old, Zoey vomited and turned blue. She was rushed to the hospital, where countless medications were given to her, and even a defibrillator was used on her. I thought we were going to lose our little girl. Once they put a central line in her thigh, the medication finally stabilized her after two hours, the longest two hours of our lives. They diagnosed her with Wolf Parkinson’s White, an extra electric charge in your heart causing dysrhthmia.  Zoey spent eight days in the hospital trying to find the right dose and right kind of medication to help keep her heart beat at a normal rate. She takes flecainide and amiodarone still, just to maintain her rhythm.  We spent Thanksgiving in Columbian Presbyterian Hospital that year, and you know you’re supported when your sisters and brother-in-law show up with Thanksgiving dinner, crockpots and all. We ate a very thankful meal that year for having our Zoey with us.

Well wouldn’t you know it, two days after she was released, Zoey was unresponsive again; we assume it’s her heart and call 911. She gets to the hospital, and it’s now seizures… hospitalized again, and prescribed Keppra. Well that month of December 2010 proved to be a crazy one. I stayed with my parents because they live so close to the hospital. That was a good decision because she had a seizure every 2 weeks that she could not get out of; she was hospitalized a total of eight days in December, including New Year’s Eve.

Some years are good, and some are bad. Last year, 2012, Zoey had some rough seizures. Zoey never gets out of her seizures. She always needs diastat, an emergency seizure medication, to stop the seizure. But then she has shallow breathing so she needs to be intubated…that happened six times last year. Most of Zoey’s seizures have been febrile as her immune system is slightly weakened, since she is on a newly FDA approved drug called Afinitior, a chemotherapeutic drug. Afinitor is prescribed to try and shrink a TSC person’s SEGA. Zoey’s SEGA has shrunk and is now stable. Her doctor said that she still might need brain surgery one day because of how large her SEGA is, but for now, thanks to the medication, she does not need to have any surgeries. We also had her start a vitamin, probiotic, and that seems to help her fight off any illnesses she might receive.

While my husband and I never planned to have a special needs child, we do. Now we just try to keep our sense of humor about everything, and realize she is the strongest person familywe both know. I mean when you get a needle stuck in your arm to take blood for the umpteenth time, and you just look at it, and then just start playing with your iPad like the needle is not there, that’s pretty amazing for any child.

Zoey is also one of the happiest kids you would ever meet. She is always smiling, laughing and hugging everyone. Everything she goes through has not changed her demeanor. She refuses to let TSC run her life and chooses to just be happy. Her outlook on life has helped us keep our sense of humor and live everyday to the fullest.

I like to find the humor in the fact that you never thought you would be writing her teachers asking if she had any bowel movements because of how constipated she gets from her medications. Or your mom texting you that her poop was “hard like little nuggets, I gave her some prunes.”  But it’s humorous and gets me through the hard days.

We try to find the humor in everything we do, even the hospital visits, especially when you are dealing with doctors who sometimes forget how to talk to parents. Zoey had been intubated and was being moved to PICU when her tube came out and she started crashing in the hall. They had to rush her back to the ER to fix it. Everything was fine in a few minutes, but the ER doctor turns to me and goes, “Well that was scary, huh?” Really doc, is that appropriate to say to the worried mom? And then he high fives your husband and says ,“Until next time.”  Your husband just replies back “Well, I hope not.”

Nurses have also told us that we are the calmest parents they have ever met. We have learned in Zoey’s 26 hospitals stays to just kind of stay out of the way, let them do their job and when she is stable you can hold her hand and lay with her. We remember a nurse saying, “You guys are amazing. I mean you are sitting here watching and just waiting patiently, when we have moms here who have a kid that stubbed a toe and they are freaking out.”  See, humor gets me through these times.

Our family refuses to receive a “pity party”. Instead of people feeling sorry for us, we decided to try and raise awareness for an unknown disease. We have attended the TSC walk in Wantagh Park, NY every year it has existed; this will be the fourth year. Our team is Zoey’s Entourage. All of our family and friends come and support TSC and our team has raised over $15,000.00 for the TS alliance. This year the walk is on September 21, 2013. You can find our team page below, with pictures of Zoey and her story:

http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?SID=3720000&LangPref=en-CA

We’ve also met an amazing family, the Spears, whose daughter, Ally, also has TSC and they are the chair people for the Wantagh walk. Their family has a fundraiser every year for TSC before the walk to raise donations. We finally got to attend last year and donate some baskets for the raffles. It was a great time. I met fellow TSC families, watched people empty their pockets for an unknown disease, and win a couple of baskets as well! If you are in the NY area and want to get out and have a good time, and raise donations to help find a cure, join us or if you know a company or yourself would like to donate items to for the raffles, contact me and I can give you some information:

August 12, 2013 from 6PM-11PM.

The Nutty Irishman

323 Main Street

Farmingdale, NY 11735

 Just $10.00 entry fee, for a fun time, with live music, raffles, Chinese auctions, food and a cash bar.

 

This year our local High School’s Key Club had a fashion show honoring Zoey. They were raising donations for our family’s medical expenses and helped raise awareness for TSC. The halls were covered in blue TSC ribbons and the crowd there was their largest yet. Even the elementary school wanted to get involved and had a “Zippers for Zoey” day. They all wore zippers and if they did not have one, the teachers put zippers on pins and the kids wore them all day. The Key Club made a video raising awareness for TSC and sharing Zoey’s story. I might be a little biased, but it’s the best video ever made, it should win an academy award. The link is below if you would like to learn a little more about TSC:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEK9N4NgwEY

Our family will always raise awareness and give everything but up in trying to find a cure. Zoey has had seven MRI’s (so far), been intubated six times, has had 14 EEG’s, and too many blood tests to count, but she gets up from all of her procedures with a smile on her face. So we just take it one day at a time. Some days are harder than others, but Zoey does not let that bring her down.  She gives the greatest hugs in the world and is our warrior. I can listen to her laugh all day long. So no pity party please; we are way too busy laughing, hugging and smiling the day away.

 

Renee

Email: Rseiling3@gmail.com

An Eleven-Year-Old Takes on Capitol Hill

Day 15 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Jennifer Silva  (Prince George, Virginia)

TS walk and KD 016Most people never forget the day something tragic happens to their child.  Little did we know September 19, 2002 would put us on a never ending journey.  What started out as a normal morning that day, ended in exhausting weeks and months of the unknown.  My first child Jared was born five weeks premature, after complications of preeclampsia.  Even though he made his debut into the world much earlier than anticipated, he was the image of health.   He weighed 5 lbs and 15 ounces, with healthy lungs and heart.  He incurred a small bout with jaundice, but other than that everything was seemingly great.

On September 19, 2002, Jared was approaching 9 months old.  He played that morning, with no warning signs of what was about to happen.  Shortly after he laid down for his nap, I heard a very odd sound coming from his room.   After a few moments, I went to see what the sound was. I was in total shock at the sight in front of me.  Jared was in a full seizure, jerking about in his crib, and foaming from his mouth.   His dad was home at the time and called 911.   It seemed like an eternity, before the ambulance arrived.   That seizure lasted more than ten minutes.   Once at the hospital, doctors weren’t sure what had caused his seizure.   His cat scan revealed what was thought to be blood.  He was transferred to a larger hospital, into a PICU unit.

 An MRI was done and we were told he had bleeding on his brain.   After several days in the PICU, hospital social workers started questioning us as to what had happened to Jared.   Jared moved down to a step down unit, and things started to get weird.  We were being treated very oddly.   Jared had been at the hospital for a week, when the local sherriffs’ department showed up and said that someone at the hospital had reported a possible shaken baby case on us.  We were in total shock. Within days we were in court being asked by a judge if this had occurred.  Of course it hadn’t.  They put the poor child through a whole body x-ray to see if any broken bones had healed over from past injuries.  The case was considered unfounded, and we left the hospital with Jared after close to two weeks has passed.  The watchful eye of social services followed.

Months went by and Jared did well on his anti-seizure meds.  An MRI follow up was done, and to our surprise, the blood was still there after months.  That’s when they knew there had been a terrible mistake.  Jared had a tuber, not blood.  A little more time went on, and at Jared’s next visit, it was discovered that Jared had odd white spots on his back under a wood’s light.  That’s when the words tuberous sclerosis came up.   Of course, back then there really wasn’t that much info out on the web, and most of it was very traumatic information.

Jared went on about his childhood under the watch of his neurologist.   He did very well, with few seizures and few tubers.  As he got older things did change some.  The skin abnormalities have come out (angiofibromas, café au lait, depigmentation, some forehead plaques), and some learning problems have been noticed.   Jared did so well on the seizure side of things; he went for years without an MRI.  Everything changed on December 26, 2011.  Jared started having seizures and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital because he wasn’t breathing.    It was determined that he had strep throat and had outgrown his seizure med levels.  An MRI was done, and they found a SEGA.  The SEGA didn’t cause the seizure, but it most likely wouldn’t have been known about, if not for the seizure, until it caused problems.

Initially he was just watched, but then we saw a pediatric oncologist who ordered a new MRI.  It had been eight months since the seizure sets, and Jared had three SEGA’s by then.  He started afinitor, and as of March 2013, his SEGAs have drastically shrunk.  In June he will have a new MRI and go from there.   Jared accompanied me to the March on The Hill in 2013.  He saw how government works, and was amazed at all of it.  We have had several publications about our story recently and I am glad to see TSC getting attention.   When I took on Chair of the TS Alliance of Virginia, I knew then that I would have an uphill battle. But with a little effort change can happen.   Jared is a typical 11-year-old child now; he has some issues, but we are grateful for all the new advancements in TS world.   His father and I divorced years ago and have given Jared a large extended family.    Jared is a special child, with lots of family supporting him.

I know one day he will help out others. He helped me stuff and mail out envelopes for our Virginia Educational Meeting in June.  He said, “Wouldn’t it be great if all these people showed up to support TS?”  The world needs more caring, compassionate 11-year-olds like Jared.

Fighting for My Child

Day 14 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month 

By guest blogger Jessica Sharon  (Virginia Beach, Virginia)

I will never forget that day in November three years ago when my son Joey was diagnosed with tuberous sclerosis at the age of 7. At times it seems like it was only yesterday, and at other times it seems like it was forever go.

I went to wake him up for school like any ordinary day only to find he wasn’t responding to my voice, which was often typical being that he was NOT a morning person; only to roll him over and discover his eyes were rolled back in his head and he began convulsing. My initial thought at first was that he was playing a joke on me as children often do and being silly, but I very quickly realized that was not the case. It was the longest 30 seconds of my life and it seemed to go on forever. When he tried to get out of bed and walk, he immediately fell to the floor and had no feeling in his arms or legs. He began to cry in fear that he couldn’t walk and had to crawl to get around. I called 911 because I had no idea what to do or what was wrong with him. After all, he was a normal healthy child and had never had any health concerns before.

After admission to CHKD (Children’s Hospital of the Kings Daughters) in Norfolk, Virginia and numerous neurological tests, it was determined that he had TSC with lesions on his brain and heart. Thankfully, over time, the spots on his heart just went away, but spots had formed on his kidneys. I had never heard of this disorder before and had so many questions and concerns.

Fast forward three years to May of 2013. He is still averaging 3-4 absence seizures a week while on five epilepsy medications. We have tried just about every epilepsy medication out there to no avail. I always thought the seizures would be the worst of it all, but honestly, it’s the learning disabilities, mood changes, and just the overall change in his personality that has affected him and our family the most. He doesn’t want to be involved in any sports or activities that put him in a position to be surrounded by people with the possibility of a seizure occurring. It was such a struggle and an upward battle to get him an IEP within his school. As parents you truly must fight for them and be their biggest advocate because no one else will. He needed one desperately because his confidence was very low. He never felt smart, and he just struggled every day within the classroom; he is so bright and intelligent, but all the medications just seem to suppress much of that. He will be undergoing resection surgery in June at VCU medical center in Richmond to remove the cyst they confidently believe is causing the seizure activity. There is no guarantee that this will be the end of seizures for him, but as his mother, all I can do is give him the best chance at normalcy and a life free of seizures. After all, isn’t that what all of us want for our children, for them to be happy and healthy?

PIC 3-1

Our Roller Coaster Journey with Tuberous Sclerosis

Day 12 of Guest Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Pamela Wolthuis  (Portland, Michigan)

NicolasMy husband Chuck and I were married on May 23, 1997.  I brought one beautiful 4-year-old daughter, Melanee, into our marriage. Little did we know on that day almost 16 years ago, that soon we would be on a journey we never expected, and that Melanee would be the only “healthy” child we would have. (Chuck loved her as his own, from the day we met on a blind date that she went on with us. He would eventually adopt her, as soon as he legally could).   Less than one year later, on May 17, 1998, we welcomed our son Nicolas into the world. He was the cutest little boy I’d ever seen, and the joy of all of our lives.  When he was about four months old, he had surgery for a hydrocele repair.  He seemed to be fine, and then all of a sudden he was bringing his legs up to his chest, almost like he was doubling over in pain.  He would cry, do this jerking with his legs, and it would go on for hours.  Several times we took him to the ER, but by the time they got around to seeing him, he would stop, and they would send us home saying he was fine.  We knew something was wrong, but no one seemed to believe us. I called the surgeon, but he was rude and arrogant, telling me, “He is fine.  What do you want me to do, cut him open again?”

We took him to the family doctor, who agreed with me that if we thought something was wrong, there very well was a problem that we needed to get to the bottom of.  His exact words I can remember to this day:  “Pam, you can have a room full of the best doctors in the world, and you as a mom, know more than them about your child.  If you say there is something wrong, I believe you.”  He sent us on for testing at the hospital.  Nicolas was set to have a ph probe, but while there, a resident looked at our baby, said he would like to do an EEG, and would that be ok?  We said yes, but thought it was a waste of time.  That resident was the one who cracked the case.  I can still remember the neurologist coming into the hospital room and telling us our perfect, beautiful baby boy had a terrible disease called tuberous sclerosis.  He told us Nicolas was having seizures.  He had epilepsy. I vividly remember telling him, “Well, if you know what is wrong, fix it.”  He said he couldn’t, that there is no cure for this disease, and that there really isn’t much even known about it.  He left the room, and I remember just crying, telling Chuck to “tell him he’s wrong.  There’s nothing wrong with our baby’s brain.”  Soon another doctor came in, telling us, “All you can do is take him home and just love him for the three to four years you will have him.”  Yes, he told us our baby would die by the time he was four.  I was inconsolable, and Chuck was feeling like it was his entire fault because he was told he passed the TS gene on to Nicolas.  They could tell, just by looking at him and the angios on his face, that he had tuberous sclerosis.  The angios that he never had a name for up until that point, that he had always worried his baby would have, but that doctors had assured him were no big deal.

When the neuro came back, he told us the other doctor was wrong, and that Nicolas wasn’t going to die.  It took many doctors to convince us that he wouldn’t die, but finally we believed them.  The first doctor who had told us didn’t know and had told us the worst case scenario. Nicolas was started on a seizure med that didn’t help.  The neuro put him on ACTH, a steroid injection given for seizures.  It had terrible side effects and didn’t help our baby.  At the next trip to the family doctor, he told us about Dr. Chugani in Detroit, who was a world renowned expert in TS.  We were so lucky to be so close to him and were able to get in fairly quick.  Nicolas was started on vigabatrin, a drug we couldn’t get here in the US, but had to go to Canada for.  Insurance wouldn’t cover it, and it was expensive, so we went into serious credit card debt to obtain it.  (More than a decade later, we were still paying for it, and finally had to settle it with the credit card companies, ruining our credit, so that we could afford to live.  But we do what we have to in order to help save our children!) It helped, but he still had seizures and was beginning to regress.  He was slipping into his own little world where he wasn’t interacting with us anymore. Dr. Chugani recommended brain surgery.

In June 2000, Nicolas had his first brain surgery.  It didn’t help his seizures, so we were angry and regretted doing it.  Then, all of a sudden, he was interacting again, and our happy boy was back!  The surgery was successful, because even though it didn’t stop his seizures, it helped him developmentally.  In 2003, we were advocating along with Dr. Chugani for more surgery.  The surgical board recommended him, and he had his second resection.  This time his seizures decreased.  He still had some seizures and was still on meds, but he was progressing.

Fast forward another year…..We finally decided to have another baby, with the thinking that God wouldn’t give us two disabled children.  On December 26, 2005, our beautiful MalarieMalarie was born six weeks early.  Within an hour of her birth, she had her first seizure and was diagnosed with TS.  Our hearts broke again, grieving for the “perfect” baby we prayed so hard for.  That is what people who have never been on this journey can never fully understand.  Although, yes, our babies are alive, we still have to go through a grieving process after a diagnosis.  No, our child hasn’t died, but our hopes and dreams for what was supposed to be have died.  We are forced into a place we never intended to go.  But just like the beautiful essay “Welcome to Holland” teaches us, we learn that we are not in a terrible place, just a different place.  So we learn to accept it, and see the beauty and good in it.  It’s not a place we willingly chose, but it’s not a horrible place either.

Over the years our kids have seen more medical professionals than most adults ever do.  Our list includes a neurologist, ophthalmologist, nephrologist, cardiologist, geneticist, gastroenterologist, dietician, neurosurgeon, dermatologist, physiacist, psychologist, psychiatrist, countless occupational, physical, speech, and feeding therapists, and pharmacists. We also have the whole special education team at school. The kids have had home based therapies, school based therapies, outpatient therapies, and soon, possibly inpatient therapy for our son.  We have been fortunate to meet some outstanding professionals, and some have even become our friends.

Nic right before brain surgery.
Nic right before brain surgery.

Today our children are 20, 14, and 7.  Melanee is a happy, intelligent college student who has more compassion than most young adults because of the experiences she has had with her “special” siblings.  We know without a doubt that she will become a remarkable adult, wherever her path in life takes her.  We worry, because when we are gone, she will become the guardian of her siblings, and is this really fair to her?  She will be tethered to them, and they will always be a major part of her life.  She has never once complained, and has reassured us that she WANTS to care for them when we are gone.  We thank God every single day for blessing us with such an amazing daughter!  Nicolas is now almost 15, but functions at a 3-4 year level.  He is autistic, has behavior issues that can occur unexpectedly at any time, is not potty trained, and may never be.  He takes eight different meds for seizures (which are still not completely controlled), behavior, and a nerve problem he just started with after his most recent brain surgery one and a half months ago. He is also the funniest, sweetest boy (when not in meltdown mode) we’ve even known.  His laugh is infectious and comes all the way from his toes!  Malarie is seven, but functions like an infant.  She depends on us for everything.  She is on six seizure meds and still has seizures several times per day.  Like her brother, she cannot be weaned off any of them, because then she starts seizing constantly. She cannot walk or talk.  She can, however, scoot on her butt across a room at an incredibly fast speed, and communicate with smiles and cries.  Her smile can light up a room in no time at all.

This is our crazy, roller coaster journey of tuberous sclerosis.  We go day to day, sometimes minute to minute.  It isn’t always easy, but it isn’t always bad.  Our days are filled with laughter, and sometimes tears.    We have lost friends, and even family, along the way, who can’t understand or cope with the way we live.  Our children will always come first, with no exceptions. We have learned the hard way who we can count on, and who our true friends are.  For that, we are grateful.  We know the miracle of something as small as a smile, or the quiet babbling of a child.  It isn’t a life we anticipated, but it is a life we enjoy, filled with love and acceptance.  In the end, isn’t that what everyone is searching for?

The family at a school Christmas party.
The family at a school Christmas party.

Life With Ricka

Andrea and Ricka ice skating.
Andrea and Ricka ice skating.

Day 11 of Blogging for TSC Awareness Month

By guest blogger Andrea Hubert  (Willis, Michigan)

Everyone has their own story to tell when dealing with TS.  I was too young when Ricka was born to remember how things all went.  I only know them as related by our mom.  Ricka’s TS seems to be a random genetic mutation.  However, that didn’t mean anything when our younger brother began having seizures at the age of 24.  It took many months and several neurologists before they could figure out what was wrong.  Finally someone ordered genetic testing, and he doesn’t have TS.  He has an unrelated seizure disorder caused by something in his brain that was triggered by the long term use of Ultram (tramadol) for serious back pain.  No one tells you that a potential side effect of the medication is seizures, do they?

So, back to Ricka.  She is very severely affected by TS, with autistic tendencies, a mental age of about 15 months, and lots of different kinds of seizures everyday.  Both of her hips and her nose have been broken.  She’s had more stitches, staples, sprains, bruises and bumps than anyone else I know.  She used to be able to walk, but is now too scared.  At school they called her “the escape artist.”  She learned how to open doors, and she was so quiet they eventually had to put bells on all the doors in her building.  I think at one point, she wore bells so they could always find her.  Thankfully, she has never disappeared when I was in charge of her.

For me, life with Ricka is just my normal life.  It’s what I’ve always known.  With only 18 months between us, I was too young when she was born to have learned much about life without her.  The things that I’ve learned when dealing with TS have kept me on my toes as I go through my own health problems, back surgery, and further treatments.  I know when to fight and when to stop.  I know to always be ready for anything.  As a child, I always kept a bag packed with enough materials to keep me, Ricka, and our brother entertained for up to several days.  We never knew when we’d be headed to the hospital, and there wasn’t time to waste gathering stuff to do.  We also didn’t know when someone could come pick up my brother and me, so we had to be ready to stay at the hospital too.  Advances in technology have made it so much easier.  My laptop, Kindle, an iPad with movies on it for Ricka, snacks, and a charger for everything is enough for us now.

When we were young, before my brother was born, Ricka was in the hospital so much that I was allowed to walk around the hospital alone pretty often.  Nurses and other staff members recognized me.  My mom is still proud of the fact that I never got lost and could direct other people around.  Maybe that’s one of the things that helped shape my good sense of direction now. Who knows?

I grew up pretty fast thanks to Ricka’s TS.  I have always been her caretaker, and at nineteen, I became one of her guardians.  It’s a scary thing to be in charge of someone else, but even more so when that person is your sibling, close in age, and so medically needy.  Today, almost nothing freaks me out because I’ve probably seen it in my journey with Ricka or the other folks that I’ve been lucky enough to work with doing care for families.  There are positives and negatives to growing up fast and seeing so many things.  Some days, positives outweigh the negatives, and some days it’s the other way around.

I don’t know what the future holds for Ricka.  I do know that she will always be loved and cared for at home by people who love her.  I know that if something happens to our mom, I will be solely responsible for her.  My brother lives nearly 2000 miles away and doesn’t want to be involved anyway.  I know the importance of planning ahead now.