Tag Archives: TSC

Guest Bloggers For TSC Awareness Month, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

I want new TSC parents to know that there is hope.

May 2, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 2 Comments

Second Annual “Blogging for TSC Awareness Month” Day 2

by guest blogger Brittany Schwaigert (Memphis, Tennessee)

Our story begins in the spring of 2008. My husband and I had just welcomed our very first child into the world. Greyson was born a beautiful and healthy 7 lb., 10 oz. baby boy and there were no indicators at all that anything was amiss with his health other than a slight touch of jaundice. He was, and still is, such a beautiful child. We were so thankful that he was healthy. We never took it for granted.

Then at two months of age, Greyson had his first round of vaccinations and subsequently developed what looked like sun spots on the tops of his thighs. The vaccinations had been administered in his thighs, though, and I was aware that the appearance of the spots might well be purely coincidental. I was far from panicked, but looking back on it, I do remember that point as being the first time I had misgivings concerning Greyson’s well-being.

Things took a turn when, at approximately three months of age, Greyson started to develop a strange habit. His habit looked to me like the Moro reflex – a phenomenon that occurs when some babies are placed on their backs and respond by throwing their hands out in the air. But in Greyson’s case, this behavior kept happening at strange times, and in clusters. Close family members who witnessed the behavior or were told about it tried to tell me and my husband that it must simply be an immature nervous system, or said that “babies do all kinds of weird things.” My gut instinct, however, told me that something just wasn’t right.

Then one afternoon, Greyson was lying with me in the bed and I was watching him sleep. All of a sudden it hit me: what if this behavior was a seizure? I practically ran to the computer to find out what I could about behaviors associated with infant seizures. What I found made my stomach sink into the ground. It hit me like a Mack truck that what I was seeing in Greyson was the outward manifestation of a dangerous and aggressive type of seizure called Infantile Spasms. It felt like my world was crashing around me in one split second.

I have always felt that it was the hand of God in my life preparing me for what was to come that, before giving birth to Greyson, I had worked for a pediatric neurologist managing an event facility that he owned. I called him immediately on his cell phone and left him a message. What followed in the next few weeks would be a complete blur.

Greyson was examined by the doctor in his office, but there was nothing that he felt he could definitively diagnose without an MRI. We scheduled the MRI and when the day came, I can say without hesitation that putting a three-month-old infant into an MRI machine was one of the scariest moments of my life. I sat in that MRI room with my baby, freezing to death, trying not crumple into a heap on the floor.

After the results came back from the MRI, the doctor called me at home. He said that he saw “indications of Tuberous Sclerosis.” The doctor explained that Tuberous Sclerosis (TS) can cause epilepsy, learning disabilities and sometimes even blindness if victims develop the tuberous growths caused by the disease in their eyes (incidentally, this is the reason I feel it is so important to go directly to a TS specialist when anyone is diagnosed with TS. Though I’m thankful we got a diagnosis when we did, due to the relative rarity of TS, I was given barely a shred of information about the disease that would come to change the entire scope of our lives. The only thing I knew about TS was that my husband’s step-mother’s sister had it and she had been institutionalized for years). I looked at my precious baby lying there and suddenly was filled with fear for his future.

After a myriad of other diagnostic testing, including blood work, a lung x-ray, an echocardiogram, a kidney ultrasound, and several EEGs, the neurologist we had been referred to and his group came to the conclusion that Greyson’s condition was, indeed, TS. On top of that, Greyson was also diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney Disease (PKD). Because of the proximity of the genes responsible for both TS and PKD, in many cases of genetic mutation associated with TS, both of the genes deleted at the same time. They did in Greyson’s case, and our lives have not been the same since.

We continued going to this same neurologist for months, even after he said ridiculous things like “I can tell when someone has TS just by looking at them,” or “don’t Google this disease,” or “I guess we can try Vigabatrin (the first line of defense against infantile spasms, which was only available through international mail order pharmacies at the time) but you will have to get it on your own from Canada,” or my favorite (from his associate): “Are you asking me if every spasm is like a bullet to the brain? No, I don’t think so.” Meanwhile, my child was suffering intensely. He was crying every time he had a cluster of seizures and it was heartbreaking to watch. It gives me physical pain to think of it now.

At one point at around six months of age, when my child was incredibly doped up on Phenobarbital and ACTH for his seizures, and bloated to an unrecognizable state, I broke (I am not even going to mention the horror of sticking my child with a needle twice a day). I just couldn’t take the stress anymore and I demanded that he be admitted for a 48 hour EEG. During that hospitalization, Greyson had his life saved the first time. His blood pressure was so high from the ACTH and his PKD that he had to have emergency blood pressure meds put in through an IV. He could have had a stroke at any moment.

After that hospital stay, receiving no answers as to how we were going to stop Greyson’s seizures, I made up my mind that TS was not going to get the best of us, or him. I immediately researched the nearest TS clinic. At that time, in 2008, the closest clinics were in St. Louis and Nashville (we are in Memphis). My in-laws live in St. Louis, so that was the obvious choice. I begged the clinic appointment coordinator to get us in as soon as she could. When we met Dr. Wong, the head of the TS clinic in St. Louis, he put Greyson on Vigabatrin/Sabril immediately. For one entire year afterwards, we had seizure control with a combination dosage of Vigabatrin/Sabril and Topamax. After going through a huge amount of different medicine combinations, we had finally found one that worked. For that year, everything seemed like it might get better.

Then, out of the blue one day in 2010 at a therapy session, the seizures started again. They didn’t stop for two years. The seizures were intense and very frequent. Sometimes, Greyson momentarily stopped breathing and often fell and hit his head. Through all this time, Grey was getting farther and farther behind his developmental milestones. He didn’t crawl until 13 months, he didn’t walk until 21 months, and he didn’t talk until he was five. At this point, I feel I can’t stress enough how important it is to get your child into Early Intervention when he or she has TS. We scoffed at the idea at first because Grey wasn’t behind until he was close to a year old. But, looking back now I would advise any parent to go ahead and start it as soon as possible, since the TS diagnosis alone is enough for your child to automatically qualify for this free service.

In any case, after failing with ACTH, Phenobarbitol, Keppra, Sabril, and Topamax, Dr. Wong was ready to pronounce Greyson’s epilepsy intractable. So, we started to think about a surgery evaluation. Around this time, I noticed that the TS Alliance had designated LeBonheur in Memphis as a TS Clinic. I was thrilled to hear this! My husband made contact with them regarding the Tennessee Step Forward to Cure TS walkathon that I have chaired for the past few years and they offered to see Greyson and give us a second opinion.

This was the beginning of something amazing. Dr. Wheless, the head of the TS clinic in Memphis, and his staff at the Memphis clinic are miracle workers. I cannot say enough wonderful things about how much this man cares for his patients. One of the best things that a doctor can be is proactive and open to listening to patients and their parents. Dr. Wheless started us on the first of several medicine changes to see what would work. We went through combinations of Clobozam, Zonegran, Topamax, Depakote, and Onfi to no avail. He did more MRIs, multiple EEGs, an MEG, and a full surgical evaluation. That unfortunately told us that Grey was not a candidate for surgery, since a cluster of tubers were located in a dangerous area of the brain over the ear, where removing them could possibly do more cognitive damage than good. But Dr. Wheless stayed vigilant.

As a last resort of sorts, when Greyson was four Dr. Wheless suggested that we try Sabril again. By this time, Greyson was having several seizure types including complex partials and tonics, along with myoclonics, which were the worst offenders in his case. Dr. Wheless said that there was some research indicating that Sabril was working well for complex partial seizures once a patient gets to be a little older. But, TS had something in else in store for us.

The same week that Grey started taking Sabril again, he started to act like he was getting sick. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him because there were no outward symptoms except listlessness and extreme lethargy, and some bruising on his feet. I took him to his pediatrician and, bless her heart, she said “I don’t know what is wrong with him, but I know it is SOMETHING. I want you to take him to the ER right now.” That began the worst month of our lives and marked the second time that Greyson’s life was saved.

After numerous tests and several days in the hospital, the ER doctors found that his blood work had come back with severe Leukocytopenia, which means that his body was extremely low in white blood cells. So low, in fact, that he needed a plasma transfusion. Basically, if he would have fallen and hit his head (which he did frequently with seizures and hypotonia) he could have had a brain hemorrhage and died. Dr. Wheless and his team, along with the hematologist concluded that Greyson had gone toxic on his Depakote. He was on a high dose at the time and his body had lost its ability to produce white blood cells. This was after they scared us to death with the possibility of his having leukemia and talk of his potential transfer to St. Jude down the street. We had no choice but to stop Grey’s Depakote dosages cold turkey. Those of you who are epilepsy parents will understand that there is a reason that you wean off AEDs – you never quit cold turkey.

Once we got Greyson stable after the transfusion and his white blood cell count started to improve, we were able to check him out of the hospital after a week-long stay. Mysteriously, he didn’t seize one time during our stay. This was the first time in two years that he had been seizure-free that long. But the horror was really only just starting. As soon as they stopped the Depakote, Greyson began smiling and laughing again after what seemed like an eternity of being doped up and zoned out from all the medicines. Before we checked out, though, I noticed that he was hyper and not wanting to sleep.

He didn’t sleep for five days. Greyson had an experience akin to a drug addict going through withdrawal from heroin. He would scream and cry and want to be picked up and then want to be put down and he would try to climb you like a tree. He ate NOTHING for five solid days, he barely drank anything, and he lost so much weight. It was the absolute most difficult thing that I have ever been through, and it wasn’t even me who was going through it. It was like an alien had taken over my child. His body was literally vibrating. I have never been so scared in my life. No one could tell us what to expect or how long this detoxing process would take, so there was no light at the end of the tunnel. It is difficult to express how horrible this two-week period was on our entire family.

On the fifth or sixth day of this hell week, he finally had a popsicle. We all breathed a little sigh of relief that maybe things were getting better. And slowly, he started to want more popsicles and more drinks, acting more and more like himself. We went through three different drugs that week to get him to relax, including Valium, Klonopin, and Risperdone. The Risperdone was just as scary as the withdrawal symptoms, however, causing Grey to drool and seemingly hallucinate.

After almost two weeks of hell, his body adjusted to the change. We ended up putting him back on the Depakote at a non-therapeutic dose (less than half of what he was taking previously) just to help with behaviors. As soon as he got that first dose back in his system, he fell asleep. It was like the clouds opened up and we saw the light of heaven. He has not seized since.

That seizure-free period has now lasted for 21 months. Every day I think about the next time he will seize. I often have nightmares about it. It is a fear that will never leave your mind when you are a parent of an epileptic child. Any strange movement makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up with alarm.

I am thankful, so thankful, that Greyson has had this respite from the continued seizures plaguing his mind, his growth, and his life. He has turned into a completely different child. He is a person who we feel we are meeting for the first time and we love every second of it. He still struggles with simple tasks like potty training, but the difference between Greyson at four and Greyson at six is 180 degrees. He began to talk at five years old, and he is now learning new words and phrases all the time.

What I want new TS parents to know is that there is hope. You should always follow your gut and keep pushing your doctors when you are not getting the answers you want and that you deserve. If your doctor will not be proactive and listen to you, then find another one.

I would also encourage TS parents to love your child today – not for what their future will bring, not for what they were before the seizures took over, not for what you imagined they would be – because none of us know what the future will bring. When Greyson was first diagnosed, my best friend said something to me that has stuck with me all this time. She said: “None of us are promised tomorrow. Tomorrow, my child might fall and hit her head on the stoop and be brain damaged.” And, however sinister a thought or remote a possibility that may be, in the end it’s true. We have to appreciate what we have right now, in this moment, because we really don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

Guest Bloggers For TSC Awareness Month, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

She is not tuberous sclerosis. She is my beautiful daughter Estelle.

May 1, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 10 Comments

Second Annual “Blogging for TSC Awareness Month” Day 1

by guest blogger Jennifer Carpenter (Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming)

I remember thinking to myself, “What are you talking about?” as I watched the radiologist point to the small white dots on the ultrasound image of my 25-week-old baby. She was saying something about cardiac rhabdo-something and her heart, and I was really just hearing words but not comprehending anything. Then, about 10 minutes later, a woman came in the room and introduced herself as a genetic counselor and handed me an information pamphlet from 1995, (and this was in 2012). I briefly glanced at it and saw the words “mental retardation” and “tumors”. I sat there dumbfounded while she told me that my unborn baby likely had a genetic disease called Tuberous Sclerosis and would have significant disabilities and may not be able to walk or talk. Again, I thought, “what are you talking about? Are you saying my baby will not be normal?”

I got into my car after the appointment and sat there in stunned silence. I picked up the pamphlet and for some reason started reading about the origins of the disease; how it was discovered and what happened to people that had tuberous sclerosis. “Fits” and “convulsions” and “retardation” were the descriptions used early on by doctors to describe these patients. Many of these poor people ended up in mental institutions. I thought, “Will my daughter have to be placed in a mental institution? How will I be able to take care of her? What will happen to her?” Then my cell phone rang. It was the genetics counselor that I had just spoken with. She told me that she was sorry and that while I could not get a late term abortion in California, that Colorado would allow medical terminations up to 27 weeks, if that was something I wanted to consider. Termination? I had been watching my daughter grow in my belly for nearly 7 months, watching her hands and feet take shape, her face and lips develop. How could I end the life of my daughter after all this time spent together? Had others terminated their babies with this diagnosis? Was that the right thing to do, if she was not going to have any quality of life and be completely mentally and physically disabled? Were the doctors certain that she had tuberous sclerosis? All of these questions were swirling around in my head as I drove the 2 hours home that day. Two weeks later, her diagnosis was confirmed through genetic testing. A spontaneous mutation had occurred during her development. This was to be our reality and I had no idea of what that would mean to my life or to hers.

In the end, I knew that I had to continue the journey with my beloved daughter growing inside of me. I became hell bent on understanding the disease and learning all that I could about what may happen to her. I threw away the 1995 pamphlet and discovered that there’s much more information and treatment options available today than there were in 1995. Our knowledge about the disease has come a long way in 20 years. (And shame on that genetic counselor that gave me such outdated information; they should be the experts on the latest information out there on genetic disorders, even the rare ones).

On the day she was born, I knew that I was going to fight for her. To be her voice and her advocate. I knew that, while I couldn’t change the fact that she has tuberous sclerosis and there is no cure, I could get her the best medical care possible and be aggressive and proactive with her treatments. I got her into a TSC clinic and I immediately enrolled her in research studies to help learn more about the disease and to help find a cure, (and selfishly, to have more doctors track her development and provide early identification of potential issues). It gave me some sense of control over an uncontrollable diagnosis and an unpredictable future. At least I could take comfort in that.

Today, my daughter is a beautiful, smiling 15 month old toddler. She isn’t yet walking or talking, but we are working on it. She may have significant developmental delays and may require special education and assistance, we just don’t know yet. She still has those cardiac rhabdomyomas, but they are not causing any issues and her eyes and kidneys are clear for now. She does have mild epilepsy, which is well controlled with medication. But these days I just try to focus on the person that she is becoming, rather than the diagnosis that she has. She is not tuberous sclerosis. She is my beautiful daughter Estelle, who laughs and hugs and smiles and just got two new teeth.

Tuberous Sclerosis

Gearing up for TSC Awareness Month

April 2, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 3 Comments

Three therapists so far are kind of “meh” on the autism diagnosis. They recognize the “quirks” he has, but don’t particularly think of him as autistic. The diagnosis opens the door to more help, but it’s comforting to see a look of surprise from people who know him so well. It’s a tricky thing, the secondary diagnosis, when there are so many potential causes of issues. He’s social this boy. He may chew on your pants, but he’ll look you in the eye when he’s done.

Chris and I have decided to raise money towards this year’s TSC walk by selling awareness t-shirts. We initially thought about team shirts but decided a general awareness shirt would have a bigger reach. If you don’t want a t-shirt, you can donate directly to the walk at the link at the top of the page. But if you’d like a shirt from which a portion of the proceeds benefit the TS Alliance, go here. At the moment I am posting this the shirts are unisex, but I hope to have a woman’s cut available soon.

Next month is TSC Awareness Month and I plan to do a month of daily guest posts from other people living and dealing with TSC. Last year was a huge success and there is a tab at the top of the page to check out last year’s submissions.

If you would like to share your TSC story this year, I need you to e-mail me the following at pin.the.map@gmail.com:

*Your general story or you can focus on a particular issue you have had to deal with (e.g. advocating in schools, a surgery, balancing family, LAM). I don’t make rules on length. Your story is your story. I’m also open to creative entries, such as inspirational poetry. I cut and paste to the blog so a word doc or just the body of an e-mail is fine.

*city and state or country (I would really love to have more countries represented this year!)

*1-4 pictures

*if you have an awareness page, blog or fundraising page, I will share the link

Hope to hear from you!

Boston TSC Study, Tuberous Sclerosis

A New Diagnosis

March 31, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 6 Comments

When I fill out medical forms that ask me for Connor’s diagnoses, I write tuberous sclerosis complex, epilepsy and developmental delay. As of Friday, I will now write autism

When Connor was first diagnosed and we read all the possibilities that could possibly come with TSC, autism terrified me the most. I really didn’t understand it. I’d worked with kids with varying degrees of autism in the classroom, some of whom I was not remotely equipped or provided the training to work with and others that were favorites of mine. But I was terrified of the word. I thought that if the day came that we received that diagnosis, I would jump out of a window.

Two years changes a lot.

I can’t say it came as a total surprise. I refer to some of Connor’s behaviors as “quirks.” I guess I was just hoping they could stay “quirks” and not become a diagnosis.

We went to Boston for his two-year visit with the TSC study. It was a low key visit since Chris and I had both caught Connor’s cold from the week before and were not particularly energetic (and why I didn’t get in touch, Ann–we’ll be back next Feb!). We also had an appointment with the Boston TSC Clinic. Even though I suspected deep down that this day was coming, I didn’t actually realize it would be Friday. The study had sent his results from the autism scale given the day before to the doctor. The words “Connor has autism” were never actually spoken. We were discussing some of his behaviors and suddenly we were talking about therapy options in addition to what he already receives. An education specialist was brought in so she could help us find local resources and I found myself saying, “So this is it? Is this an official diagnosis?” It was. But the sooner the better and we now move forward.

We also finally got a little more detail on his MRI. It wasn’t as specific as I was hoping for, but we do now know his brain has somewhere around 20-30 tubers, probably closer to 20. They are scattered throughout. I thought he had two SENs in the ventricles of the brain, but he actually has three. However, they are so small that they are nowhere near being classified as a SEGA (which can block fluid in the brain and require either surgical intervention or use of Afinitor or Rapamune) and therefore aren’t currently an issue (and hopefully never will be).

I’m sad that we only have one visit left with the Boston study. I really enjoy going up there. I think I could actually live in that city in spite of the cold and that says A LOT. I was really touched by the fact that while we were there, non-stop coverage was being given to the deaths of two firefighters and who they were. It gave the city a close knit feeling and reflected a genuine interest in the loss of two heroes. It’s not something I’ve ever seen in the 20+ years I’ve been in Atlanta, where we just get the 6 p.m. death count.

These are the only photos I took which tells you how off I was this trip.

First big boy flight with his own seat. On the way back we were told we couldn't use this seat because it wasn't airline compliant. Gotta love consistency. — First big boy flight with his own seat. On the way back we were told we couldn’t use this seat because it wasn’t airline compliant. Gotta love consistency.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Happy Birthday, Little Man!

March 21, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 4 Comments

Two years ago at this time I had no idea how much my life was about to change. I mean, I had some idea considering I gave birth just a few hours prior after a spectacular epidural after checking in the night before to be induced as a precaution related to findings on the ultrasound.

Right now, two years ago around noon, Connor was off being checked out. He was having the ordinary newborn exams, but he also had a cardiac exam by a specialist due the abnormalities found in his heart ten weeks earlier. They had never grown or become problematic, so by the time ten weeks went by, Chris and I thought it was some flukey thing that would require monitoring, but nothing more.

I did not know that in a few hours Connor would begin seizing, or that he wouldn’t go home for 37 more days.

I did not know we would be returning for brain surgery in four months.

I did not know he would develop infantile spasms in five months.

I did not know he would be developmentally delayed.

I did not know that as I had walked around for the first 30 weeks thinking, “lucky me! No morning sickness!” that chromosome 16 had mutated right away resulting in the later development of heart rhabodomyomas and brain tubers.

I did not know what tuberous sclerosis complex was.

What I know now is that Connor is awesome and funny, loves books and is the coolest, most adorable two-year-old on Earth.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MONKEY! YOU ARE KICKING TSC BUTT!

Modified Atkins Diet for Seizures, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Eleven Days Seizure Free!

March 19, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 3 Comments

Remember that Connor kid I used to write about before politics, politics, politics? He’s still around and doing great.

Connor is getting closer and closer to walking. We can now hold both hands as he takes forward steps to us. At his last physical therapy session, his therapist decided to remove the seat from his gait trainer/walker. I thought she was nuts. I thought he’d slump down with the waist support under his shoulders and refuse to cooperate, but he maintains standing and he’s moving better than ever. We had it locked so he couldn’t turn but could go back and forth in a straight line. On a whim the other day, I unlocked the ability to turn and though he careened a little out of control into furniture and the walls (guess we will paint this room last) like Lindsay Lohan behind the wheel of a Mercedes, he had a blast trying to get around.

The best news is this:

Though I started tweaking his diet back in December, we started the full-on modified Atkins diet around the second week of February. We haven’t seen a seizure since March 7. Today is the 19th.

The magic of some whipping cream and olive oil. If only dietary therapy worked for everyone. Thank God. Colorado looks gorgeous, but I do not want to take on refugee status while we wait for the rest of the country to catch up to 2014.

Current Events, Medical Marijuana, Tuberous Sclerosis

Hitting Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C.

March 10, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 4 Comments

So much excitement over the last couple weeks. Where to begin…

HB885 passed the House vote 171 to 4. It now awaits a hearing in the Senate. If you haven’t yet contacted your Georgia state senator, please do so right away. If you aren’t sure who it is, check here.

Chris and I flew up to Washington, D.C. last week to meet with our representatives about the continuation of funding for the Tuberous Sclerosis Complex Research Program (TSCRP) which is part of the Congressionally Directed Medical Research Program (CDMRP) in the Department of Defense (DOD). Yes, I am drowning in a sea of acronyms. Quick quiz: how many of these acronyms do you know?

AML, TSC, SEGA, LAM, SEN, CBD, CW, FDA, THC, DEA, RoC, VNS, CPS, TC, GW, IND, LGS, HIPP, KB, CHOA, PT, SLP, MT-BC, MAD

(Answers: angiomyolipoma, tuberous sclerosis complex, subependymal giant cell astrocytoma, lymphangioleiomyomatosis, subependymal nodules, cannabidiol, Charlotte’s Webb, Food and Drug Administration, Tetrahydrocannabinol, Drug Enforcement Agency, Realm of Caring, vagus nerve stimulator, complex-partial seizures, tonic-clonics, this is the name of a pharma company (I actually have no idea what GW stands for), investigational new drug, lennox-gastaut syndrome, Health Insurance Premium Payment Program, Katie Beckett, Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, physical therapy, speech-language pathologist, music therapist-board certified, modified Atkins diet).

That fact that I know those in no way makes me smart. It just means I can do even less math than before because I’ve had to drop everything number-related dating back to second grade to make room for it all. To be honest, that only equates to a couple of years. It was all downhill from fourth. Also, don’t ask me to pronounce most of them.

Now back to DC…(see how I did that?) Volunteers flew in from all over the country and we swarmed the Hill in our sexy blue jackets. There aren’t words for how excited I was to discover these had thumb holes. I love thumb holes.

Fellow TSC mom Reiko and my hubby Chris helped me hit all the Georgia congressional offices.

We secured promises of support from the offices of John Lewis, Hank Johnson and David Scott. The meeting with David Scott was my favorite as I had no expectation that we’d be promised support on the spot like that, and the staff member we met with immediately began asking questions about what was going on back in Georgia with HB885 when we mentioned TSC’s link to seizures. It was awesome to know they were talking up there. Don’t worry, fearless trainers from the previous evening’s dinner, Reiko got us right back on topic 🙂

Chris and I even got some time the first day to explore so we went to Ford’s Theatre and the house where Lincoln died. His blood-stained pillow and the tiny gun that killed him are on display. The balcony is preserved as it was, and I was actually surprised to learn that it is a working theater. We did some more walking around including a photo op at the White House where our phones died simultaneously only letting us each get one shot. I don’t want one more stupid iPhone model coming out until they can make a battery that lasts more than five minutes.

The last night we were there was the Volunteer Recognition Dinner. Four people were awarded a Franny, the volunteer of the year award for 2013. Chris had broken down and told me he nominated me a couple weeks prior — so very sweet — but that did nothing for my slow processing as one of the winners was described as having a son Connor’s age, a blog with the same amount of hits and followers as mine and involved in similar activities. I thought, man, who is this person leading such a similar life? Oh it was ME! ME!

Then, like a jerk, I forgot to thank Chris a la Hilary Swank and Sean Penn who ended up divorced after their Oscar acceptance speech snubs of their significant others. He swears it doesn’t matter, but just in case: THANK YOU, MY AWESOME HUSBAND!

Well, if you haven’t read it yet, check out my post from Sunday here. It is now my most read and shared post of all time. I’m thrilled to help get the message out on the potential benefits of medical cannabis. Though I can’t help but wonder why you all aren’t as intrigued when I blog about my repetitive dreams of my teeth falling out or weight loss powder shakes…

With CEO and President of the TS Alliance Kari Rosbeck.

Grandma and Grandpa took Connor to aquatic therapy while we were gone. We did it! Four whole nights away! Guess we’re ready for the islands…

Please check out my latest post at Mommy Hot Spot.

Medical Marijuana, Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Politics and Pinot

January 20, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 1 Comment

Oh, I have a blog? I should probably update it. I’ve been so busy. I’m starting to get materials together for the D.C. trip with the TS Alliance in March, been filling out paperwork for Connor’s services and looking into starting hippotherapy (horses-yay!), and trying to read the books I bought on the ketogenic diet. I’m a tad bit nervous and anxious to get started. I’ve already tweaked his diet a bit to be low carb and higher in fat, which I think is helping his seizures, but no where near what the diet requires. It’s way too extreme to do without medical oversight. I can’t totally relax though because our appointment in Birmingham is Feb. 4, but that is just to meet with the neurologist. Though I was told he’d be admitted soon after, Connor doesn’t actually get scheduled for the clinic until that appointment. I’m scared they’ll pull some unexpected wait to start out of their pocket. I’d kept our appointment at CHOA just in case they could get us in earlier and save us the travel or in case something went awry with Birmingham. But come to find out, even though Connor’s neurologist has spoken to several people, and I have spoken to several people regarding starting keto, they still have him down for starting modified Atkins diet, even though the plan of action was changed before Christmas. I wish someone could explain to me how I have several conversations with someone about the fact that I’m bring Connor in for one thing and at no point does anyone say, “oh oops. He’s scheduled for something else!” Whatever. It’s the same old thing with CHOA every time, no matter what it’s for.

I’ve also been wrapped up in the sudden and surprising momentum of the medical cannabis movement in Georgia. The parents I’ve been talking to did an amazing job of getting the attention of the media and several legislators. Things are rolling and there’s more to come! I’ve been emailing my state legislators and the governor and we’re really seeing a lot of growing support. Access to medical cannabis has the potential to be life changing for so many suffering people.

Connor’s stubborness is reaching epic proportions. He will be two in March and he still won’t give up the bottle. A couple weeks ago I thought we were rounding a momentous curve. He has a sippy cup with a mouthpiece that can be interchanged with the bottle nipple. We’ve been more focused on cup drinking lately so it had been a while since I tried putting the actual sippy cup mouthpiece on the sippy cup instead of the nipple. I handed it to him and there was 15 seconds of drinking. My hands were on my mouth, trying not to gasp, practically jumping up and down. Then he stopped, pulled it out of his mouth, gave it a careful visual inspection, realized he’d been had and threw it down. The next 30 minutes were a standoff in which he would have no part of it. He had to accept a few sips from his training cup and his straw cup (which he’ll only take when urged and helped) before I relented and gave him the nipple. I like to create the illusion that I’m winning.

In spite of all this, we did have a great night out this weekend with two of our couple friends. Connor spent the night with my parents and we went to a wine tasting, dinner, had some drinks and hung out at a friend’s place. Part of the excitement was that we would be able to sleep in on Sunday, but I was having so much fun that we didn’t head home until four. I don’t think Chris was too pleased — he really treasures his sleep — but he humored me.

This morning I met up with Sara and her two boys for a trip to the Fernbank Natural History Museum. I wasn’t really sure Connor would be into it, but he had a blast. They have a pretty sweet play area.

I’ll close with this open letter written by Aaron Klepinger. I posted previously about his son Hunter.

My son Hunter has had intractable epilepsy for over 8 years and the seizures have severely impacted his development. He was able to do more before his seizures, such as stand unassisted against the couch. After starting to seize, he has regressed to a 1 month old development level. He depends on us for everything (transferring, feeding, diapering, etc.). We have failed 12 pharmaceuticals, often with devastating side effects such as hours of screaming fits, increased seizures, non-stop sleeping, no sleep, etc. We have tried vitamin supplements, chiropractic, intense neuro-developmental therapies, ketogenic diet for 2 years with constant dietary changes, and VNS implanted (https://www.epilepsy.com/epilepsy/vns).

He also has been diagnosed with a movement disorder. He flails his arms and legs and moves his head in all directions usually for hours at a time, sometimes in rapid succession. He moves and kicks so much in bed, we have had to put his mattress on the floor because he has fallen off the mattress. We are considering having to make a custom bed for him to keep him safe. His wheelchair has had to be customized heavily to stop him from hurting himself. We modified our Georgia home for his protection also. His shower there is extra wide so he doesn’t punch and kick the walls as he did when he was bathed in the bath. We also had to buy a ~$2000 bath chair out of pocket to strap him down while we bathe him. The typical chair covered by insurance would not provide enough support.

Since starting medical cannabis treatment, we are seeing way less seizures, more moments of relaxation, more happiness, greater eye contact, and greater awareness of his surroundings. Throughout his life, he has had a lot of GI issues, including constipation. We have noticed better motility with his bowels as we have increased the medical cannabis. He also used to clench his fists so tightly he would cut his hands with his fingernails. He did this fist clenching almost 24/7/365. He no longer does this.

In reviewing the past ~3 months of online seizure data, his seizures have gone from 17% of days without seizures (likely less than 17% if I dig further into paper records sitting on a moving truck now) to 47% of days without seizures after starting treatment (47% is a confirmed, hard number). Seizures that were 5, 10, or 20+ minutes before are now under 2 minutes. His more mild seizures we can’t even tell if they are a seizure now they are so quick and unpronounced. He holds his arms out as if he thinks he’s going to seize and then the seizure never comes. And this is all on a low dose, having just started medicine. Seizure medicines usually take months to tweak to a proper dose and this is the same way.

Haleigh Cox and 150,000 Georgians that have epilepsy should have the medical option of this gift from God. Thank you for helping us come home and share this medical treatment with so many other people suffering.

For your colleagues in the House and Senate, Georgia has a great medical tradition, including Emory, the CDC, and many health oriented companies and non-profits such as the American Cancer Society. We should step to the forefront on this health issue too and lead the way for states like Alabama and Tennessee that are considering legislation. Lets look at the science and put patients first. Medical cannabis is improving my son’s quality of life dramatically. It is our moral obligation to end the suffering of sick people. Lets pass some legislation this session before someone dies from unsafe pharmaceuticals. Compare the 40+ side effects (including death) of the most prescribed seizure medicine (Depakote) to the side effects of cannabis (none, virtually). Add to that the benefits that patients are seeing. It is clear the science supports medical use of this plant. Lets move forward with a bill in 2013 so Haleigh can live and Hunter can come home and stop being a prisoner in the state of Colorado.

Current Events, Medical Marijuana

Let’s go Georgia…We can’t let Florida, Tennessee and Alabama beat us.

January 6, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 1 Comment

Oh, did you think this post was about football? Then you clearly don’t know me. It’s the SEC of MMJ. And Georgia is losing.

Some Alabama lawmakers ready to legalize marijuana-derived oil that helps control seizures

Article here.

‘Glimmer of hope’ for medical marijuana in Florida

Article here.

Medical Marijuana Bill Filed in Tennessee

Article here.

And for those still hung up on not being able to see marijuana as anything but an illegal drug (even though pediatric treatment is an oil that isn’t smoked and doesn’t get you high), why are you okay with FDA-approved drugs that can do this:

One of Connor’s meds carries this rare but potential side effect. Read about it here.

Still opposed? I guess you are okay with seeing my baby do this.

Parenting, Tuberous Sclerosis

Merry Christmas! It’s a tonic-clonic seizure!

January 1, 2014 Rebecca Gaunt 8 Comments

I can’t believe Christmas is over already. Seems like it was Halloween a week ago. Connor had a good Christmas, despite some not so fantastic developments beforehand.

I blogged previously about his bout with bronchitis and I mentioned that instead of an increase in seizures, which can happen in times of illness, he had a major decrease. Turns out many other parents have experienced this when illness causes their child to stop eating much. Hopefully, that’s a sign that the ketogenic diet will work for him. Did I say ketogenic and not modified Atkins diet? Yes, you read that correctly and I’ll come back to that.

Turns out, a week and a half almost seizure free wasn’t worth it because once he recovered and started eating again, they came back with a vengeance. They were longer, rougher and he was wobbly for a bit afterwards. His seizures for the last several months have topped out at 30 seconds. Now they were lasting two minutes. And they looked…odd. I sent a video to his neurologist who called me with the %&*# news that Connor’s seizures had morphed into tonic-clonic (grand mal) seizures. Now, I knew they were rougher than the partials we have always dealt with, but you can read descriptions all day long of seizure activity and it still may not look exactly as expected. So they were rougher, but still not as rough as the grand mals I envisioned. I was shocked and not shocked at the same time.

So damn. A new seizure type. Common in TSC, but we had been lucky to go so long without that turn of events considering Connor’s seizures started at birth. Until now, other than partials, his only other confirmed seizure type was infantile spasms. I have sometimes suspected absence seizures, but those are tough to peg.

Shortly before this development, his neuro had changed his mind about the recommended course of action. As I mentioned in another post, we were trying to get him into the Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta at Scottish Rite or Egleston ketogenic diet clinic for consultation regarding modified Atkins and seizure control. They couldn’t get us in until March, four months out from when we sent his records over. It took a month for them to even make the appointment, and our neuro was quite perturbed that after a month of trying to get started we had gotten nowhere and had three more months to wait. He did not say this, but my guess is that he was on board with MAD when he thought we’d be able to test out the efficacy quickly. Now, that we are facing several more weeks of seizures, I suppose he wants to take a more hardline approach. With the appearance of tonic-clinics, I’m very much on board now, whereas before — I was NOT thrilled with the idea of keto.

So we have continued our efforts to get in earlier at CHOA and they also referred us to Johns Hopkins and UAB in Birmingham, which also has a TSC clinic. Johns Hopkins also can’t get us in until March. So far UAB is the winner with a date of Feb. 4. So unless we get a miracle at CHOA, we will drive two hours to Alabama, which is preferable to flying to Baltimore.

In the meantime, we have upped his vigabatrin, something we were trying to avoid. His seizures shortened again and were less severe, though they still leave him wobbly. Most days he’s had one. Until two days ago when he had five. Yesterday he had one that left his right arm almost useless for 30 minutes after.

But on a happier note, Connor sure cleaned up at Christmas. We opened gifts at home in the morning with Chris’ parents who were in town, then headed to my parents for the afternoon and dinner, then stopped by Chris’ brother’s house where Connor went hog wild with his 10-year-old cousin Cody and their dog.

We can now start a family band, hopefully less annoying than Laughing Pizza, with Connor’s new keyboard, drum and xylophone. I continue to live vicariously through him by getting him a tent for his playroom (I can’t wait until he’s old enough for the Power Wheels I never got in the 80s). One of the gifts my parents gave him is the rideable airplane from Cars. He likes it until he accidentally triggers the mechanism that makes it light up and make noise. He takes off like a bat out of hell, so I suppose I will remove the batteries for the time being so he can play with it without fear of being eaten or chopped up or whatever it is he’s afraid of. He otherwise adores spinning the propeller.

The Christmas gift exchange between Chris and me was rather perilous…for me. Chris is not a “stuff” person. If it were up to him, we’d have a lot more bare square footage in this house. He always makes a list, and I always feel compelled to find at least one thing not on the list. However, I’ve completed his collections (that I started) of Chicago sports team Mr. Potato Heads and garden gnomes. I knew he wanted the Lego Rockefeller Center for his office, so score! An off-list item. Except when I got home, I made the mistake of asking for the updated Christmas list since I had only looked at his November birthday list. Guess what he had added? Dammit. So I gave it a shot by picking him up a button-up shirt at Belk. I stuck to his beloved Izod, but veered from his color palette. I knew there was a 95 percent chance of exchange. Mine’s on the left, his exchange is on the right.

The hubs prefers a more subtle earthy hue...unless the Bears are playing. — The hubs prefers a more subtle earthy hue…unless the Bears are playing.

For me he did a good job with three necklaces he picked out on his own, in addition to some Loft clothes I picked. He also got silly with this, which surprised me because my excessive mug collection drives him bonkers.

He also picked up a cow chip clip that moos loudly, as I am obsessed with black and white cows and hold to a belief that if I can get it out of the pantry with no one knowing, the calories don’t count. Massive backfire on his part. The thing is so sensitive, that even after being buried in drawer, open the fridge — MOOOOOOO!. Pour some milk — MOOOOOOOO! Turn on the sink — MOOOOOOOO! Then on New Year’s Eve it went completely batsh** and wouldn’t stop mooing even when we were sitting on the couch partying hard with VH1’s Happy Endings marathon surrounded by laundry (jealous?) I was upstairs when I finally heard Chris lose it and yell, SHUT UP! I heard a drawer being yanked open, so I rushed down to save my cow from possible obliteration.

I’m also thrilled to say we made it through all of 2013 without one hospitalization! Since Connor will be admitted in order to start the keto diet, we will not be able to say that of 2014. 2012 gave us five weeks in NICU, a brain surgery and an in-patient VEEG. Here’s hoping we all have a medically uneventful year.

One last thing — please keep in your thoughts that one of our newer TSC families entered our world of seizures last night and had to welcome 2014 in the ER. I’m hopeful they will quickly find seizure control. He’s doing well I understand.

I was contacted by Dave Terpening Insurance Company to be part of their “I Was Thankful for Insurance When…” post on their blog. I love any opportunity to get the word out on TSC so check it out here.