Category Archives: Special Needs Parenting

Brave New World

If you’re on any social media platform, be it Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, the chances are that your timeline will have been flooded this week with the ever popular first day photos like this one, on what an old friend humourously terms “National Stand in Front of your Door Day”. The start of every new school year always brings a list of tasks that need to be completed, which includes for us more than just name-labelling the new school uniform and buying huge amounts of school stationery that will potentially have disappeared by the end of the first week, but also making sure that we’ve dotted the “i”s and crossed every single “t” relating to the health needs of both children.

This year felt like even more of a challenge as M moves up into the same secondary school as his big sister and we find ourselves dealing with the reality of different teachers for every subject, a year group that’s bigger than the whole of his junior school and the need to educate the school in the world of M. The good news is that having reached the end of the first week, things have not gone horribly wrong and on the whole, it has all been a huge success. Every evening, M and I have looked through his timetable for the next day to discuss what he might need to do to make sure all his needs are being met as they need to be. I was as delighted as he was to discover that his educational needs have been noted on the tutor group register and so his teachers are aware that he needs extra support in relation to his Dyslexia and Dyspraxia. We still need to iron out the finer details of note-taking in class and how he prepares his homework for each lesson, but our unexpected find of yellow-tinted sunglasses whilst on our summer holiday have been an added bonus to helping him read the worksheets he’s given.

Disappointingly, though not altogether surprisingly, the level of awareness about his EGID and food restrictions has not been what we hoped it might be, but whilst my hopes were high, my expectations were truthfully quite low and we knew there would be work to be done in this area. He went to the Student Services with his medicines on the first day and by day 2 was confident enough to ask for a set of yellow cards, which gives him permission to leave class early to take them, jump to the front of the queue with 2 friends when it comes to lunchtime and go to the toilet whenever he needs to without having to wait and ask permission. Our biggest challenge was the one we feared it might be, that of the Food and Textiles classes that he will be taking this year. His cookery teacher was not aware of his dietary restrictions or just how important avoiding the cross-contamination risk is for M and so I’m waiting to talk to her after school on Friday to discuss just how we go forward with the lessons**. We are all keen for him to take these lessons and learn to cook, but Mike and I are very aware of the need to protect his fragile mental health and so will be working hard to make sure the cookery lessons don’t become a challenge too far for him.

As for G, my big girlie quietly and confidently started in Year 9 and is looking forward to the year ahead. She’s a little anxious already about making her GCSE choices later this year, but we have been spending time reassuring her that she won’t have to make those decisions on her own and that we will help and support her every step of the way, as will the school and her teachers. This year is a little different for G as they are now splitting a number of her classes into sets and her hard work over the last couple of years has stood her in good stead as she has been placed in the top 2 sets for almost all subjects.

It really is a step into a brave new world for the whole family and I can’t wait to see what the year ahead will bring for us all.

** So that conversation has happened today and I’m delighted to say was a really positive one. Mrs J has agreed that M can use ingredients and adapted recipes that are safe for him wherever possible and will work at his own station to help reduce the cross-contamination risks for him. She is as keen as we are to make the lessons a positive experience for him and will be regularly touching base with me to make sure we’re all getting it right.

Bitter disappointment

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Two years ago, M and I waved goodbye to G as she trekked off on the adventure that is Year 6 Camp and, as he had his NG-tube in place, we chatted about whether Year 6 camp was a possibility for him. I reassured him that Mike and I were both keen for him to go and would work hard with the school to ensure that his every need – medical, dietary or otherwise – was met as he needed, whether the feeding tube was still in place or not. Despite never having spent a night away from family, M wanted to go, to try out new activities and to challenge himself as opportunity offered.

One year ago, as I manoeuvred M’s wheelchair through the back gates of school and across the school field to his classroom, we breathed a sigh of relief that it was during Year 5 that he had spectacularly broken his left leg and not in the weeks leading up to the Year 6 camp. The slow reintroduction of foods following the removal of his feeding tube would not hold him back and once again I found myself reassuring him that, if needs be, I would bake a batch of M-friendly cakes or cookies to accompany him on the trip and that we would ensure that the camp kitchen could safely cater for whatever his food requirements were when he went. His week away at Over The Wall built his self-confidence as he realised that he could tackle anything he put his mind to and succeed.

For the last 2 years, M has been looking forward to this rite of passage, this week of school camp and practically counting down the days until it was finally his time to go. He has been in discussion with G about the different activities he might get to do and planning all that he would need to make the week the success he so desperately wanted it to be. I met with the school to talk over the arrangements for meal-times and sleep that would need to be in place and was confident that they would do everything in their power to make it a week to remember for him and all his class-mates.

And then 2 weeks ago, M had to make what has been, without a doubt, one of the hardest decisions in his life so far. The past 4 months of food challenges have taken their toll and when that was added to the stresses of SATS, we saw an unwelcome decline in his health that we weren’t sure could be overcome easily. Despite our best efforts and hard work since mid-May, M has decided that going away to Year 6 camp is not the right thing for him to do at the moment. To say that my boy is bitterly disappointed would be an understatement. For 2 years of longing and planning to come to nothing is heartbreaking for us all and has been a bitter pill to swallow. For M, life has just seemed incredibly unfair once again.

M is frustrated that he can’t go, but he has based his decisions on the health struggles he is currently facing and knows that ultimately it is the right choice for him. He has tried to remain cheerful in school and has been an active participant in the tasks set to his class as they have researched where they’re going and what they’ll be doing. Mike and I met with his teachers and arranged for Mike to take him to the camp today for a half-day*, so that he can join in an activity of his choice and not feel that he is missing out completely. What has made it even harder to bear is that he currently doesn’t have a place on this year’s OTW Health Challenges Camp and is instead on the waiting list, with his fingers tightly crossed that a place might become unexpectedly available.

I know that in the long-run, M will pick himself up and dust himself off and keep going, just as he always does, but it’s hard to comfort him when he’s railing against just how unfair life can be because, in all honesty, right now I agree with him and it’s hard to find the positive and that silver lining we so desperately need to cling to.

*I’m delighted to share that today’s morning has turned into a full day at camp with his friends. M enjoyed the mud assault course so much that he felt confident to stay on and try his hand at abseiling and anything else he could find the time to do.

NEAW 2017 – The journey continues

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NEAW 2017 is drawing to a close, but for those of us living with EGID the journey doesn’t stop here. Everyday will continue to involve taking a number of medicines, examining food labels, careful food preparation, monitoring symptoms and hoping that the next day will be even better. Small hiccups might become major hurdles to leap, or may pass by almost unnoticed as we breathe a sigh of relief that they didn’t become something more. Parents will continue to find last-minute solutions to unexpected activities at school, plan trips out with military precision and pull together paperwork, photos and lists of symptoms to take to the next hospital appointment. We will comfort our children whatever their battle, be their most ardent cheerleaders and be prepared to tackle anything and everything to get them the very best healthcare and support. Despite the increasing uncertainty about the EGID diagnosis, we will continue to raise awareness and, more importantly, we will never stop believing in our children.

This is the short film G and M made 2 years ago to explain EGID to their classmates. Whilst M does not have his feeding tube any more, the message is as clear now as it was then and I wanted to share it again:

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.

NEAW2017 – Resilience

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Resilience: the ability to become strong, healthy or successful again after something bad happens.

What an amazing quality to possess and one that we’d all to like to develop, especially when times are tougher than we ever imagined they could be. Without a shadow of doubt, the EGID diagnosis has forced us all – and by us, I don’t just mean our family, but all those families living with EGID – to become incredibly resilient, even when we’re dealing with bad situations that have nothing to do with this illness itself. During last year’s NEAW, I wrote about being an EGID Mum and the heartbreak that I had been struggling with because of M’s broken leg and the lost opportunities that resulted from it. This year, the current uncertainty surrounding the validity of the EGID label has once again pushed Mike and me to our limits as we grapple with the challenge of managing the health of our child, physical and mental, whilst also dealing with the unavoidable “elephant in the room” of that unanswerable question mark about his diagnosis whenever we attend gastro appointments that seem to try and avoid using EGID as a valid reason for his current struggles. We are not the only parents who find themselves in this position as conversations amongst our EGID friends and extended family show.

Life has taught me to be resilient, to be a strong woman who’s not afraid to face up to whatever is thrown at me, even if sometimes I need to pause and take breath before I can fully deal with it all. It sometimes feels as if I’ve been put through more than most: my T1D diagnosis on my 9th birthday, losing my Dad before he had a chance to get to know my children and the threat of further sight loss last Christmas; and yet somehow I’ve managed to find my way through it all. As a family we’ve certainly had more than our fair share of chronic illnesses to contend with – T1D, EGID, Cancer, Parkinson’s, MS, Alzheimer’s disease to name a few – but they’ve taught us all one thing: that we can survive. In fact we can do more than survive, we can still have positive, purposeful lives and can definitely live and enjoy life to the full.

As a Mum, I’m proud to see the resilience that my children are building themselves, even though it is heartbreaking to realise the reasons they’ve needed to develop this character trait so early on. But their unquestionable resilience to life’s challenges, doesn’t mean that they are immune to the insensitive, hurtful and thoughtless comments of others as became patently obvious this week. M is going through a tough patch right now and we don’t really know why. We expected the anxiety of his SATS last week to affect his gastro health and returned to his simple 6-food diet to try to reduce the stresses on his body. This week has seen a real relapse in many of his symptoms and we’re struggling to see the light at the end of this immediate tunnel. I know, in that way that Mums do, that this change in events was playing on his mind, but I didn’t realise just how much until yesterday.

Yesterday, we were talking about his school year group and in particular, the jokes and insults currently being traded amongst the Year 6 boys. I reminded him that he needed to ignore those comments as best he could and instead focus on the strengths of his friendships and the fun they’re now having that SATS are finally out of the way. It was then that he paused in reflection before saying:

“…I know Mummy, which is why I’m sure X was making it up when he said that his Mum had said that she’s sick of seeing me in the local paper all time because I haven’t been and anyways, I don’t think that his Mum would have said that….would she…?”

I had to take a moment to compose my own thoughts before giving a careful and considered reply because I knew that the very fact that he had mentioned it to me meant that he was more bothered by this seemingly throwaway comment that he wanted to admit. In all honesty, I can’t answer why that Mum said that, though I can make some intelligent assumptions behind her reasoning and am certain that she never expected her child to come into school and say it directly to my son. It just shows that we need to be careful about what we say to, and in front of, our children and encourage them to be kind in their words to others.

I reminded M that our intentions are good. We’re actively trying to raise some much-needed awareness about EGID and that the annual fundraising events that he’s held at school have been the result of us proactively asking to organise them. I’m not ashamed to speak out loud about a condition that impacts us every day and I don’t want M to feel that he needs to hide the reality of what he goes through. However, he also knows he can share as much or as little as he chooses about his daily life and that there will never be pressure from us to do more than he’s comfortable with doing.

We’re lucky. Having spoken out loud to me, and then later to Mike, about this comment, M has forgotten all about it and has happily got on with the rest of his week. His ability to bounce back after a ill-considered remark that obviously cut deep is admirable and truly reflects the resilient young man he is growing up to be. Today both children have proudly gone into school wearing an element of pink to raise awareness amongst their friends. M’s “Dress up as your hero or superhero” day for Over The Wall is currently under way and he was excited to see what his friends would be wearing – he has gone as his very own hero, Ryan (the doughnut man) from Borough22. Most of all, we’ve all done our bit this week to show this disease just how resilient we are and I’m proud to acknowledge that many in the global EGID community have done so too.

NEAW 2017 – No man is an island

NEAW 2017 – His illness does not define him

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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.

NEAW 2017 – Living with the unknown

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2017 marks our 5^th 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.

NEAW 2017 – Shared Experience

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If there’s one thing the last few years have taught me, it’s that it is truly worth reaching out and sharing the story of our experiences, as it is thanks to those who have had the courage to share their stories with us that we have found the strength and courage to persevere and carry on, even when the hardest of decisions have had to be made. Talking about the challenges that have faced us, sometimes on a daily basis, is unquestionably therapeutic and can often be a self-centred process, but I’ve learned that sometimes, when I’m speaking about a moment that represents only a small part of a much larger picture for us, that is the thing that speaks most into the heart of a matter that is a seemingly insurmountable one for another family. I’m grateful for those who have taken the time over the life of my blog to get in touch and let me know that a post I’ve written has sometimes made what is, for them, a big difference at that time in their life.

Today is the start of National Eosinophil Awareness Week 2017 (#NEAW2017), our fifth year of finding new ways to talk about EGID and telling those in our community, and beyond, about this disease. Last year, we went all out with our approach to raising awareness and raising funds for the charity, Over The Wall: I appeared for the third year in a row on our local BBC radio station, talking about life with M and with EGID, and our local paper also ran another story highlighting what we were trying to do. We attended some community summer fairs to hand out leaflets about EGID as well as running some mini carnival games to boost our fundraising total. M took some of those games into his school and shared in assembly the short film that he and G had created to explore the impact of EGID from his point of view. Likewise, G’s secondary school offered their support and ran a Year 7 non-uniform day and asked every tutor group to show their film. We extended our fundraising efforts past the third week of May and, with the help of our regional theatre who kindly agreed to have collection buckets available for 2 weeks at the end of each performance, we managed with the help of the wider community to collect more than a staggering £1,000, which I not only know will have been put to good use, but have seen in the fantastic OTW South Siblings Camp that G attended for the second time just a few weeks ago.

This year we’re taking things a little easier, though I’m still planning to write a blog post a day for the week and as a family we’re once again taking on the challenge to “Eat like M” for the duration. Our week starts with another radio appearance, with this year marking the debut appearance of M, and G if she deigns to give more than her usual, teenage monosyllabic answers on air. I am filled with some slight trepidation as to what might come out of their mouths as they speak live during the programme, but I’m looking forward to hearing what they both choose to share about life with EGID. As M’s career at his incredible Junior school draws to an end, the Headteacher has agreed to support our awareness-raising campaign for the final time and is helping M to host “Dress as your Hero/SuperHero” for the day on Friday May 19th.

We have also asked for donations of any unwanted fancy dress costumes to send to Over The Wall as part of their appeal this year. They are looking to replace as much of their existing stock as possible for camp and whilst they are grateful for any and all that they receive, they are particularly looking for costumes to fit teenagers and adults. If you have some lying around your house and want to help support this amazing charity, you can find the Head Office address to send those costumes to here. All in all, I have no doubt it will be another busy week, but hopefully a good one too and of course, you can all do your part to help us by sharing my blog posts wherever you can to reach out to your community and share our EGID experiences.

7 years to diagnosis

Searching for an answer