Category Archives: Hospital

NEAW 2017 – His illness does not define him

Our life experiences influence our view of the world that surrounds us. Good or bad, everything we do or see or hear or learn will affect our outlook on life, on whether we become individuals who see that hypothetical glass as being half-full or half-empty and how we react to our interpretation of that reality. When you’re growing up with a chronic illness as your one constant companion, it can come as no surprise that that condition begins to shape the person you become and the relationships you have with the rest of the world.

Rightly or wrongly, I have encouraged M to embrace his EGID diagnosis and become an advocate for himself and others living with it. M is, without a doubt, so much more than this disease and yet it is an integral part of the young man he is growing up to be. Our local gastro team are keen that M doesn’t view himself as a “sick kid”, that he doesn’t let his diagnosis stop him doing whatever he wants to do or being what he wants to be and those aims sit well with our approach to helping him cope with it all. However, I can’t and won’t agree to ignoring the reality of his life – the numerous hospital appointments, admissions and procedures; the daily medicines; the restricted diet and 12 months with a NG-tube mean that he is not like his friends, like other kids his age. In the last year alone, M has been seen at our local hospital over a dozen times and that does not make him the same as the rest of his classmates. Despite everyone’s best efforts, 2 and a half years after that first feeding tube was placed, M still only eats 6 safe foods on a regular basis and that makes him stand out from the crowd, not just at school, but at every activity or event he attends. He is, in all truth, a “sick kid”, but that label does not sum up who he is as an individual.

No matter what the medics suggest, I can’t pretend that all those experiences didn’t happen to him, to us as a family, but I will endeavour to make sure that M’s illness is not all that defines him.

Yes, he’s a child who cannot eat the same as his friends; but he can eat out and enjoy food with them.

Yes, he’s a child who lives with constant pain; but he has learned to ignore it and overcome it and achieve despite it.

Yes, he’s a child who spends too much time in hospital at medical appointments; but he is developing a confidence to question and understand and advocate for himself.

Yes, he’s had experiences that most adults I know would struggle with; but he has developed tremendous courage and an increasing self-worth in who he is as an individual.

The truth is that, just as my 30+ years with T1D has shaped the woman I’ve grown up to be, M’s life has been, and will continue to be, affected by his EGID diagnosis. We cannot pretend that the difficult times haven’t happened, we can’t airbrush them out of our family history and it would be doing a disservice to the fortitude and bravery of both my children if we tried to do so. They are so much more than the sum of their parts and whilst EGID has an unquestionable influence on the individuals G and M are becoming, it absolutely does not define either of them in their entirety, and nor will we ever let it.

This year we have decided to continue our support of the amazing charity, Over The Wall and their camps. If you’re able to donate even a very small amount, please follow this link to my Virgin Money Giving Page where your donation will help more children living with chronic illness like G and M by giving them and their families a chance to enjoy some much-needed time away from it all.

NEAW 2017 – Living with the unknown

2017 marks our 5th National Eosinophil Awareness Week and yet, in many ways and for many reasons, this year may be one of our quietest yet. One of those reasons is that over the last 12 months, we have experienced a significant shift in the way that M’s doctors view his diagnosis and that change, along with the inevitable amount of growing up that is going on in our household at the moment, means that life has become about a lot more than just the label we’ve been handed to explain his medical condition. I’ll be honest, that transitioning medical opinion has been difficult to live with because it has challenged the very way we’ve coped with the last 11 years of our life and has demanded that we examine closely all of those decisions we’ve made believing them to be in the best interests of both our children and not just M. It has made us sit back and question whether we’ve been choosing and doing the right thing.

This seismic shift that we’ve been experiencing is not isolated to our experiences or even to our part of the world, but rather appears to be part of a nationwide change in the understanding, and even the diagnosis, of Eosinophilic disorders themselves. As a parent to a child with this diagnosis, the prospect of moving away from recognising Eosinophilic Disease as a genuine medical condition is a daunting one. Whatever title you want to attach to this little-recognised health issue, the hard facts are that those diagnosed with it are struggling and suffering on a daily basis and removing the validity of its name does not, and will not, remove the reality of the problem itself. The steps we have taken over the last 4 years since diagnosis have not always been easy ones, but without a shadow of a doubt, they have been ones that have seen much improved health for M at times when we have had to make what are unquestionably the toughest of choices.

Similarly, we are not the only family who has found itself moving away from the care provided by GOSH over the last couple of years – some have moved by choice, whilst others have had little or no say in the matter. In our case, our GOSH consultant and dietitian recommended we sought local input into his care because they had reached a point where they could find no explanation for why his body reacts as it does and felt that a fresh pair of eyes might be able to give us different insight into how to go on from here. The last 8 months have been extremely challenging for us all as our local consultant has made suggestions that we are not always 100% on board with and it has taken unbelievable courage on the part of all in our family to even agree to try new things that no-one really knows will succeed in the long run. The jury is still out on whether we are currently heading in the right direction with his care and truthfully only time will tell whether the decisions we are making this time round are the right ones or not.

Without any funded research into the complexities of gastrointestinal disorders, individuals like M will always be at the mercy of what can only be seen as an experimental approach, as diet, medicines and psychology are discussed and considered and tweaked to produce the best possible outcome on very much a “trial and error” basis. In our experience, we know that food plays a huge part in the way that M’s body behaves and the medicines he’s currently on appear to be doing their job of dampening down the body’s reactions to everything he eats. Likewise, we agree that there is a psychological element to it all and have had our concerns about the psychological impact of a chronic illness on his mental well-being. Sadly, where we have currently agreed to disagree with the medics is whether the psychology plays a bigger part than the physiology when it comes to M’s day-to-day health and responses. Yes, we know that stress can wreak havoc on the digestive system of just about everyone, but we will not be swayed in our belief that it is more than that for M. The hard facts of our 11 years with M show us that his health challenge is unquestionably a physical one and we will continue to fight for greater understanding of Eosinophilic disorders and how they affect everyday living for those diagnosed with them.

This week is about raising awareness of EGID and sharing our experiences – the good, the bad and the ugly – of living with it. For us, and for the families we’ve got to know who live with it, EGID is a part of our lives that we have to accept and learn to come to terms with, no matter what discussion is being had in the medical world. It might not be clear whether EGID is in itself the final diagnosis, or if it is simply part and parcel of a larger problem that is, as yet, unknown, but it is our reality and it shapes every step that we take.

This year we have decided to continue our support of the amazing charity, Over The Wall and their camps. If you’re able to donate even a very small amount, please follow this link to my Virgin Money Giving Page where your donation will help more children living with chronic illness like G and M by giving them and their families a chance to enjoy some much-needed time away from it all.

Looking ahead

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The start of a New Year is always an opportunity to reflect on the things that have passed, but more importantly, to look ahead to the adventures that are yet to come. We had a 2016 filled with as many highs and lows as we’ve faced in previous years and I don’t doubt that 2017 will be equally challenging in ways that are both startlingly similar and scarily new. I’m looking forward to a year that will investigate new possibilities for M’s diet and seek potential answers for what’s going on in his body as well as watching as G tries out new opportunities and starts thinking ahead to the school subjects she wants to study for GCSEs – a conversation that has filled our end-of-holidays walk this afternoon. We don’t know exactly what this year will bring, but it’s always good to look back on everything that has brought us to this place:

Giving something back

23567358210_2327dd548d_mAs we counted down the days to Christmas within the confines of GOSH last year, one of the seasonal highlights for both M and me was the carol-singers that we encountered during our stay. Hearing the gentle strains of familiar carols outside the main entrance, within the beautiful chapel and along the hospital corridors helped us feel a part of the excitement building in the outside world, even though M was ward-bound for so much of the time. I was fortunate enough to be able to go to the Carols by Candlelight service at St. George’s Holborn, a church just across the road from the hospital itself 23104290053_5ffd34741a_zand M, Mike and I had great fun another evening joining the choir from All Souls Church, Langham Place as they sang their way around GOSH, serenading patients with their cheerful Christmas singing.

Knowing how much those experiences lifted our spirits during a difficult and emotional time away from home, I leapt at an opportunity this year to give a little back. One of the choirs I sing with was invited to spend an afternoon singing carols and Christmas songs at a regional Children’s Hospice, whilst one of the local football teams delivered presents and spent time talking to current patients and their families. It had been an occasion that I’d been hoping to take part in last year, so as soon as I heard we were invited back this year, I knew that I just had to be a part of it if at all possible.

img_13021Yesterday was that day and what a truly magical experience it was. A small group of just 9 of us gathered and spent the afternoon singing carols and Christmas songs to the children and their families, who are so dependent on this Hospice to provide some precious moments of respite during the year. I took the opportunity during our visit to speak to staff members, parents and even some of the children themselves and gleaned just a small insight into how important this Hospice is to them all. There were no tears yesterday; just a celebration of the individuals gathered in those rooms and an opportunity to make memories that will last a lifetime. When favourite songs were requested, we gladly sang them to bring a little extra cheer to what was already an amazing party. I gently persuaded – ok, 15578155_10154311119488790_2228089488536286007_operhaps, more honestly, I coerced with a cheerful smile and a little Christmas spirit – some of the footballers to join us for a rousing rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”, which ended with friends, family and staff also singing along and sharing in the joy of that moment.

We received thanks for our attendance again this year, but the truth is that we received from the experience far more than we gave. It was a huge honour to be able to be even a small part of a fantastic event and, for me, a real opportunity to give something back to families that are living through a reality that reminded me just how lucky our family truly is. Not everybody can sing; not everybody will be able to offer practical help, but if you can find a way to #givesomethingback this Christmas season and beyond, please do.

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Indescribable fear

b6e83c2b62a1e0ec0cd3fbc189efbc94When I wrote this blog last week, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever sat down to write. Life has a way of throwing a curveball when you least expect it and these last 2 weeks have been no exception. My words captured my emotions at their most raw, at their most honest, when the fear of what could be had me tightly in its grip.

In November I wrote a blog all about World Diabetes Day 2016 that contained these words:

The 18 years since that fateful day have been filled with… the ever-present nagging fear that despite the continuing ability of my right eye to confound the experts by being startlingly healthy in comparison, things could change without warning at any moment…”

not realising that that moment would come so much quicker than any of us expected. Before Diabetes awareness month had finished, I went for my annual retinal screening at the local eye hospital and was given the devastating news that my right eye is showing the early signs of diabetic retinopathy. I was told that there is no choice. That I have to have laser surgery as soon as possible. Before Christmas. The last few days have been full of unending tears and constant fears about what this could mean for my sight and not just my future, but the future of our family’s life together.

The good news is that the retinopathy has been caught early, far earlier than that in my left eye 18 years ago and the consultant is confident that the amount of laser burns I will need should leave me with enough vision to still be able to safely drive my car. He listened to my concerns that the same complications could occur again and told me that technology and the equipment used has come on a long way and that the treatment is a lot more gentle than it was then.

The truth is that I’ve a lot to be grateful for this time round, but that doesn’t stop the fears that have haunted every night’s sleep since that appointment.

The fear that I might never be able to read or write without aids.

The fear that adventures to new places will be restricted to the things I can hear and smell and that I will no longer be able to fully appreciate the beauty of the world surrounding me.

The fear that I will lose so much of the independence that we all take for granted and will become dependent on those who surround me.

The fear that there will ultimately be an unfair role reversal and my children will feel a responsibility to look after me that they should never have to feel, ever.

The fear that I might not be able to clearly see my beautiful children’s faces ever again.

Nearly 2 weeks on and the fears have been joined by their eager and willing bedfellows, confusion and doubt.

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Unable to trust fully the opinion of our local eye hospital who did, after all, make such a dreadful mistake 18 years ago and left me dependent on the ongoing health of my right eye, Mike and I took the decision to go to Moorfields Eye Hospital, London for a second opinion. I needed to be sure; to be certain that this time the advice I’d been given was right and to have the confidence in the doctor who would treat my eye. That’s what we expected to get, but instead I’ve been left confounded by the outcome of that appointment, almost as much as I was stunned by the appointment at our local the previous week. Last Wednesday, this consultant said that he could see no signs of diabetic retinopathy in my right eye. None. At. All. He could not identify anything that would cause him to support the suggestion of my local hospital that I had urgent laser surgery and would, in fact, suggest that, given my past experience and subsequent loss of sight in my left eye, no treatment be given at the moment. He could not justify even considering it as an option.

Which left me feeling absolutely bewildered. Two top eye hospitals; two specialist doctors; and two very different opinions. I wanted to be pleased by the new diagnosis, but those fears had taken a hold and weren’t willing to let me go without a fight.

So yesterday I was back at our local eye hospital, seeing my named consultant, who is considered to be one of the top ophthalmologists in the field of diabetic retinopathy. This is a specialist who knows me, saw me safely through 2 pregnancies and carried out my cataract operation 8 years ago. I can’t lie. My confidence in our local hospital is at an all-time low and I dread to think what the outcome might have been if we hadn’t decided to seek a second opinion before the surgery took place. The outcome was the very best that I could hope for. She completely concurred with her Moorfields colleague and said that laser surgery is the very last thing I need right now. She acknowledged that our trust in our local hospital will be at rock-bottom and knows she has to do a lot to rebuild our faith in them. From this point on, she has insisted that I will only see her for my future appointments and has given me free access to her via her secretary whenever I need it.

The last 2 weeks have been a terrifying rollercoaster ride that we were unable to escape until we reached the end. We have been supported by our fantastic families and an amazing group of friends who have offered love, prayers and help every step of the way. That help has enabled us to protect the children from the turmoil and kept our fears from impacting on them.

I am hoping beyond hope that those fears will never be realised, but only time will tell.

Breaking the curse

Reaching today feels like something of a landmark moment. We’ve had our fingers crossed that we’d get to yesterday’s date without so much as a hiccup to stand in our way and we’ve not only reached it unscathed, but have surpassed it with no sign of looking back. Saturday was December 3rd and we were all feeling more than a little nervous about it. The date might not ring any bells with you, but in our household, hitting midnight on the 3rd at home felt like a huge achievement. For the last two years, that date has signalled the start of a hospital admission for M and we were desperate that history wouldn’t repeat itself for the 3rd year in a row. Of course, in both 2014 and 2015 we knew that the admissions were planned and it was just a case of waiting for a bed to be available for him, but nothing prepared us for the unlikely scene of déjà vu when the phone-call came summoning us to London once again, exactly one year to the day of the previous one.

There was no reason to think it would happen again, not least because there are no further admissions planned at GOSH and we had already told our local hospital that we wouldn’t even consider a December admission this year, but the fears of our “December 3rd curse” were there anyway. I’d like to say that the weekend passed without event, which is really what we would have preferred, but as ever in the 7Y2D household that isn’t quite the case. There have been unplanned hospital visits and unexpected procedures discussed for family members other than M over the last week, and the implications of those are still being mulled over as decisions have to be made and soon. However, most importantly, today is December 5th; M and G are at school, Mike and I are at work and that’s just the way it should be.

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Now we can start to enjoy Christmas!

Takeover Challenge 2016

img_12651When it comes to thinking they know it all and can do it all better than the adults in their life, my kids are world champions. The frequency with which Mike is told that “Daddy, you just don’t understand..” is high and he often finds himself trying to defend his position to an irate 10 year-old, even on matters where he quite obviously has far more expertise than anyone else in the room – think anything building-related given his career as a chartered surveyor. There is a certain level of deference awarded to me, after all I’ve proved over and over again that Mummy knows everything there is to know and, besides which, she really isn’t someone you want to get on the wrong side of ever; but the opinion of just about every other adult is scrutinised carefully and often rejected on the basis that they just don’t understand either. M has some very strong opinions and would, and sometimes has, happily argued the case that the sky is green for hours, often with a reluctant truce having to be declared before World War III breaks out across the dinner table. As for G, well she has perfected the teenage eye-roll ahead of hitting her 13th birthday and it’s often accompanied by a surly shrug of her shoulders and a mumbled “Whatever” as she heads upstairs to the seclusion of her bedroom.

redevelopment-wed-2So, you can imagine my thoughts when G and M were invited to be a part of this year’s Takeover Challenge at Great Ormond Street Hospital through G’s involvement with the GOSH YPF. This is a fantastic project run during November by the Children’s Commissioner and sees organisations and businesses across the UK opening their doors and inviting children and young people to take over adult roles. The Challenge seeks to “…put children and young people in decision-making positions and encourages organisations and businesses to hear their views. Children gain an insight into the adult world and organisations benefit from a fresh perspective about their work.” Excitement has been building in our household for weeks as G and M looked forward to finding out more about how the hospital is run and last Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough for my two excited children. I was delighted for them to have this experience, but my true sympathies lay with those adults who would be brave enough to let this opinionated duo step into their shoes, even for a day.

The children were invited to take-over the Developmimg_12641ent and Property Services department as Director and Deputy Director for the day. The information they received in advance told them that they would have a “behind the scenes” tour of the hospital with opportunities to learn about the systems that help the hospital to run efficiently, including visiting the plant room with engineers, learning about the food ordering system and how the meals get to the children on ward and understanding more about how the hospital plans and designs spaces to be fun and interesting for the patients, their families and the staff. Ahead of the day itself, both G and M were asked to complete a profile to be shared with the Development team, explaining a little about why they were interested in this role as well as what their involvement with GOSH is. G had 2 key areas of interest – finding out how the kitchens cater for patients with food allergies and how new spaces and redevelopment work is done – whilst M was eager to see the plant and machinery that makes the hospital run and find out more about the technology in place.

img_12601Determined to dress for the occasion, M’s clothes were chosen the weekend before to make sure that everything he needed was washed and ironed, unlike his sister, who typically left everything to the last-minute and was then put out when her first couple of outfits were deemed unsuitable by me. Taking the challenge very seriously indeed, M solemnly told me that I needed to make sure he was in bed early on the Monday and Tuesday so that he could be well-rested and ready for a busy day. Our decision to head to London on the Tuesday night after a Year 6 meeting at his school slightly scuppered those plans and his night’s rest was then further disrupted by a 5am fire alarm in the hotel, something none of us appreciated. The further stress of the drive across London to make sure that we reached GOSH in time whilst being questioned constantly as to when we would arrive, tested my nerves thoroughly, though we did make it – by the skin of our teeth. The hurried unloading of G, M and me just around the corner so that we could dash to the main entrance by 10am as Mike went off to the park the car, was an unexpected drama I could really have done without.

However, the day itself was a huge success redevelopment-wed-14and we are still hearing snippets about it a week on. Whilst both children took over the same department, their mornings were filled with different activities to meet the interests they had already expressed in their completed profiles. M spent the morning with Development Director, Matthew Tulley, the highlights being exploring the roof of the hospital and learning more about CAD. That second activity earned the accolade that “CAD is rad!”, something I suspect will stick with the Development team for a long time. G headed in a different direction to learn more about different aspects of what this department does. She went with Deputy Director Stephanie Williamson and spent the morning planning and designing a new orthopaedic therapy space, which she really enjoyed, though it proved to be a challenge to fit all the requirements into the space available. She then headed to the kitchen to find out a little more about how patient meals are prepared, before meeting up with M and Matthew for their lunch. A big thank you has to be given at this point to Stephanie and the rest of the catering team who did a sterling job at providing safe meals for both children to enjoy. Both had been able to choose their menus before the day itself and the team had taken on board M’s request for either rice pudding or a rice krispy cake for pudding, which he was delighted to see.

After lunch, they both went to the Special Diets kitchen, where I’ve been told they met the 4 Simons who work there and M wondered if that was a prerequisite of working in the kitchens. I understand that the team was delighted to finally put a face to a name and actually meet a patient that they have had to cater for in the past. 15069048_10153959799661921_8246658330976253376_oThere was then enough time to head off to Coram Fields and chair a meeting about the new research centre being built and discuss the hoarding that will be used to surround the site. They even managed to find their way on to the building site, where M’s enthusiasm in particular has earned him the offer of a return visit to see the completed building in a couple of years’ time.

After our own day spent walking round London together, Mike and I met them back at the main reception where they were both clasping bits and pieces they had accumulated during their day in the job. It had been a fun day spent learning more about the hospital we have spent so much time in over the last few years and they thoroughly enjoyed every moment of their experience. We had a peaceful homeward journey after M’s gastro appointment, with M taking a nap as we headed out to Westfield for dinner and then both falling asleep as we travelled back home.

I can’t thank Steph, Matt and the rest of the Development and Property Services department enough for the time they took to spend with G and M and show them what goes into making a busy children’s hospital run. They both had an amazing day and are already talking about what department they might be able to take-over next year if they have the opportunity again.
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Eyes on Diabetes

jdrf-t1dfootprint2016 has marked 2 significant milestones in my life, both of them linked by 1 common factor: Type 1 Diabetes. Back in February I celebrated my 39th birthday and my 30th diaversary, something I can never ignore as they fall on the same date, but this year has also marked 18 years of living with a complication of that disease, diabetic retinopathy. As a rebellious and angry teen, I never anticipated that the years of refusing to accept and manage the illness that set me apart from my peers would ultimately result in near complete loss of sight in my left eye. Of course I knew that the risks were there, but I didn’t fully understand that the problems could, and in my case would arise when I finally stepped up and took control once again, determined to make T1D only a bit player in the story of my life. I now have to live with a permanent reminder of just how damaging this illness can be.

For those who don’t know, diabetic retinopathy is caused when the fluctuations in blood glucose levels cause changes in the blood vessels in the retina. New blood vessels may grow on the retina to improve the blood supply there and in turn, these weaker vessels can swell and burst leading to a detached retina or, in some cases, complete loss of sight. If the symptoms of this complication are identified early enough, careful monitoring of the eye can help reduce the need for further treatment and the risks of the problem spreading further. stages-of-diabetic-retinopathyFor those with already well-developed retinopathy, laser eye treatment can be given to prevent those new vessels growing further and reduce the chance of new vessels growing too.

Regular diabetic eye screening should be done on an annual basis and can be carried out at your local optician as long as they have the facilities and expertise to do so.The screening tests are not invasive as they simply require photographs to be taken of the retina and a thorough examination of your eye. In my case, a regular eye examination at my opticians  picked up the signs of retinopathy in my left eye and I was immediately referred on to our local eye hospital for further assessment. What happened over the next few days is still shrouded in something of a blur as consultants were summoned, examinations carried out and advice sought from Diabetes UK as to what my next step should be. The laser treatment I needed to stop the progress of the rogue vessels was done and that really should be where my story ends with lessons learned and an altogether wiser individual moving forward into the exciting new challenges of career choices, married life and parenthood.

Unfortunately, I was not so lucky.

I had the misfortune of being treated by an over-zealous medic, who wanted to ensure that the retinopathy was stopped well and truly in its tracks and that no further intervention was required. Instead of treating the eye with the recommended number of burns, a huge amount more was administered leading to the partial detachment of my left retina and leaving me with less than 5% vision in my left eye. blurred-eyechartThe 18 years since that fateful day have been filled with twice yearly eye examinations at our local eye hospital, regular eye checks, cataract surgery, prism lenses to reduce double vision and the resulting headaches, and the ever-present nagging fear that despite the continuing ability of my right eye to confound the experts by being startlingly healthy in comparison, things could change without warning at any moment. I am still able to drive, though my licence now has to be renewed every 3 years following a specific eye test to ensure that the loss of vision in my left eye won’t impact my ability to drive safely and I can still be independent in the things that I do. I have travelled, got married, had children and continue to build my career as an accountant and my eyesight hasn’t stopped me doing any of those things. My night vision is poor, my depth perception almost non-existent and my colour perception drives the rest of the family mad, but I am fortunate that I can still see.

I am one of the lucky ones in so many ways.

Back in 1991, the International Diabetes Federation (IDF) and World Health Organisation (WHO) created World Diabetes Day as a global opportunity to raise awareness of both types of Diabetes, the reality of living with this disease and the escalating health risks resulting from these conditions. That’s why I’m pleased that this year’s World Diabetes Day (#WDD2016), celebrated today on Sir Frederick Banting’s birthday, has taken “Eyes on Diabetes” as its theme, focusing on two key areas:

  • The importance of screening for early diagnosis of Type 2 diabetes; and
  • The treatment needed to reduce the risk of serious complications.

Statistics suggest that at least 25% of those diagnosed with both types of diabetes will suffer from diabetic retinopathy in their life, with some sources quoting figures as high as 90% of those who have been living with it for 20 years or more. These are statistics that can be reduced and I truly believe that education is key in making that difference. What I hadn’t understood was that a rapid improvement in blood glucose levels can lead to a worsening of retinopathy and my approach to improving my control should have been to do so gradually to ensure that my body had time to adapt. There are always lessons to be learned from the experiences of others and I just hope that my story can add to that education process.

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From all angles

The last few months have been busy ones in all areas of our life, which I haven’t been shy in talking about, but the one aspect that I haven’t mentioned for quite some time is where we are health-wise with M’s EGID. You could view the reason for the radio silence as a good one – we haven’t really been making any significant progress and everyday continues to be a battle to see if we can reach and maintain some semblance of status quo for a decent length of time. I’ll be honest, since March things have been quite challenging as we have had little medical support and we have felt, at times, as if we’ve been cut loose and are paddling desperately to make some headway by ourselves. The reason for the missing input is that we are in the process of trying to build a shared care relationship between GOSH and our local hospital once again and at long last do appear to be making bmd6e7zcyaef7disome progress, albeit very slowly. We last saw M’s GOSH consultant in the middle of March, when it was somewhat reluctantly agreed by us that we would wait until November for his next GOSH appointment with the plan being that we would meet and then have an appointment with our local gastro team during the interim period.

It may well come as something of a surprise that we are even considering transferring some of M’s gastro care back to our local given the  numerous problems we’ve had in the past, but this time we were encouraged by the fact that his new gastro consultant is a registrar that we got to know whilst at GOSH and someone we trust implicitly when it comes to M and his health. Dr W, who has invited us and M to be on a first-name basis with him, was instrumental in getting M admitted 2 years ago when we made the decision to move to elemental feeding and so is someone who knows something of M’s background and understands where we, as his parents, stand when it comes to treating this disease. We are also keen to gain some local support for M because, when crisis hits, it is very difficult to get any immediate care from GOSH due to the distance we live from the hospital and the inability to just pop along there for them to review his current state of health. There is a standing agreement that we can phone and discuss him with any one of his consultant’s team, but sometimes that isn’t enough to resolve the issue as quickly as we all need. supportDr W had already agreed with GOSH that he was happy to meet with us and look at the potential possibility of taking over some of M’s care during last year’s disastrous admission and he understands that there is a trust issue between us and our local hospital that he and his team will need to work hard to re-establish – something that is so critical to M’s well-being.

With a little prodding, it didn’t take too long for Dr W to give me a call and then for an initial appointment to arrive on our doormat and Mike, M and I met with them in the middle of June. At this point, M’s broken leg had unleashed an unexpected level of havoc on his body and we were struggling to manage the ever-fluctuating bowel issues as well as his increasing reluctance to drink the E028 and huge disappointment that we couldn’t undertake any food trials whilst he was so unstable. The team was great, but it really was just a conversation about what we were looking for and what they felt they could do for us. A few interesting insights and suggestions about M’s diagnosis were thrown out, but there was no opportunity to ask questions about them and now, 3 months on, our reflections have left us wondering about what the next steps will be. What didn’t come as a surprise was the question mark over whether M is truly suffering from so many genuine food allergies or rather if there is an underlying problem with his gut and/or bowels which means that he is unable to tolerate so many foods at the moment. This has been a question that has been stumping his GOSH dietician too, who has freely admitted to finding M one of her most challenging patients ever and is hoping our local will provide a fresh pair of eyes when it comes to considering how best to treat him. Dr W also expressed a concern that 20150203_082342M would eventually stop drinking the E028 altogether and stressed that we need to find a viable alternative before we reach that point. This has proved to be remarkably insightful as it is now one of the biggest issues that we have had to contend with since that June appointment, with M struggling to drink even half of the required amount and with no new foods in his diet, there are growing concerns about both his weight and his nutritional intake.

Just before our Portuguese holiday, I contacted our GOSH dietician to discuss with her the lack of progress we’ve been making with M and asking for her input as to what we should do next. The email reply I had came as something of a concern as she explained she was under the impression that all care had been moved to our local hospital and she was surprised that I was looking to have a further conversation with her. I fired off a considered response, copying in both the GOSH and local consultants, advising that whilst we had met with the local gastro team in June, we had heard absolutely nothing since and really needed some medical advice once September started, although somewhat ironically we have had our next GOSH appointment booked – September 2017! Thankfully the strong relationship we have built up with this dietician since M first went to GOSH 5 years ago meant that S was happy to step in and gave me a call just a few days into September. She was as concerned as I was about the lack of medical care being given to M at the moment and during that lengthy phone conversation, worked with me to put a plan into place for food trials over the next 4-6 weeks. She also offered to chase both Dr W and our GOSH consultant to find out what was happening regarding the transfer of M’s care and try and speed up the process to ensure that M is seen before November if at all possible. I’m not quite sure what strings she pulled, but within a week of speaking to S, Mike received a phone-call from Dr W to tell him that a plan had been agreed between the two hospitals and an appointment would soon be forthcoming. Delighted to hear that a plan would soon be put in place, Mike asked whether we could be privy to the discussion they had had, so that we too were on board with whatever next steps they were expecting to make. Another lengthy conversation later and at long last, we finally had some idea of how M’s care will be handled until the end of the year at least.

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The most critical aspect of looking after M right now is that no-one really understands what is going on with his body, his bowels and gut in particular, and there doesn’t appear to be any logical explanation why we seem to be stuck at just 5 safe foods. Add to that the added complications of the massive downturn in his health that happened as a result of his broken leg and the resulting failure to find ourselves in as good a position as we were a year ago, the medics all agree that they are more than a little stumped. So, rather than rush into more tests or a radically changed approach to his treatment, our local gastro team have booked monthly appointments for the next 3 months, where they will be assessing and observing him without getting too involved in the medical decisions. Obviously any problems that we do encounter during that time will be addressed, they won’t leave M to suffer unnecessarily, but they are leaving us to work with GOSH in terms of his food challenges and medicine tweaks. They have also recognised the need for psychological support, not just for M, but for the whole family and are proposing that we start with weekly appointments, split into fortnightly appointments for M and the alternate weeks for Mike and me. We have long argued that the diagnosis of his EGID has a huge psychological and emotional impact on M and have frequently seen the outpouring of that in the home environment. The added stress of his SATs this year is already showing at both home and at school and so I am hopeful that with these regular sessions in place and the support of us and his teacher, we will ensure he makes his way through Year 6 relatively unscathed. With this kind of all-encompassing care in place and the availability of local support for any admissions or longer term treatment changes that might be needed, the strain on the family will hopefully be reduced a little too, although it will obviously never fully disappear. We don’t know what the future holds for M and that is the most daunting thing we have to face as a family. What is encouraging is that there is already an open dialogue between some of the many people involved in M’s day-to-day care and our hope is that can only prove to be the best thing for him.

Life’s never dull

I had today’s blog post planned and then this happened:

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Cue: reams of paper towels to stem the bleeding; a frantic phone-call to get M safely to school with a friend; miles driven between home, GP surgery, local Minor Injuries Unit and local hospital; and bucket-loads of tears and the occasional hysterics as anaesthetic was injected to numb her finger.

Result: no stitches for the time being despite being told 3 were needed originally, a well steri-stripped middle finger, a buddy strap to keep it straight for a couple of days and a much-needed day off school for when emotions eventually catch up with her.

Life’s certainly never dull in our household!