Tag Archives: Abdominal x-ray

To whom it may concern

Dear Local Hospital

28 years ago, your specialists saved my life.

My family and I owe our gratitude to those skilled doctors who were on duty the night of my 9th birthday, when I was admitted perilously ill and closer to not making it through the night than my parents could have imagined. Their wonderful care brought me back from the brink as my Type 1 diabetes was diagnosed and they supported me for the next 11 years of my life. It is not ridiculous for me to say that I owe my life to you and had every confidence that when Mike and I started a family of our own, we could entrust the health of our children to your care.

2 and a half years ago, your consultants told me that there was nothing wrong with my son, other than a minor complaint he would grow out of in time. Your doctors left me questioning my instincts and made me feel that they viewed me as a neurotic mother. They even queried why we, as loving parents, would consider putting our child through an experience as horrendous as an endoscopy, when it was obviously not needed. Mike and I began to doubt our judgement and, at breaking point and in desperation, we took our child and walked away from your care.

Our wonderfully sympathetic GP listened and sent us to one of the top Children’s Hospitals in the world for a second opinion. At our very first appointment there, we were told that he was a very ill little boy, but that they could help. They have diagnosed a chronic condition that he will probably never outgrow, a condition that has changed his life. For 2 years, we have juggled our family’s lives to make the regular and necessary trips to London to search for answers and to work out how to return our son to better health.

Six months ago, our son was struggling with new symptoms and GOSH requested a test to rule out any infections in his system. A simple test that, due to its nature, needed to be carried out locally and our GP readily agreed and sent off the sample with the appropriate paperwork. Within days, you replied that you wouldn’t do the test due to funding and suggested that if GOSH wanted the test done, then we should travel to London for them to carry it out. It was with a sinking heart that I accepted this decision and vowed silently that I would never willingly bother your hospital again.

Five months ago, he needed urgent abdominal x-rays and I reluctantly agreed to attempt a referral to your hospital for these. To my surprise, you agreed and once again I was reminded of the competence and compassion of the dedicated people who work there as they cheerfully showed my inquisitive child the x-rays of his poorly tummy. A tiny seed of hope began to sprout – maybe we could develop a relationship with you that would put my son first.

Two months ago, we were prepared to give you another go. GOSH wanted him to be admitted to you for the extensive bowel prep he needed prior to his scopes, due to the chronic constipation that had been identified over the summer. I was willing to see if things had improved, now that we had the “big guns” at GOSH involved. You let us down again. I don’t know fully the conversation that happened between your gastro team and the team at GOSH, but you refused to admit him and instead we had to face the upheaval of a week away from home to make sure he got the care he needed. That tiny seed of hope had obviously been trampled on thorny ground.

A couple of weeks ago, I noted anxiously that he was showing some signs of chronic constipation once again and our best efforts were woefully ineffective. GOSH advised that he needed to be admitted before Christmas for another bout of heavy duty bowel preparation to clear his system and once again suggested we tried you. Once again, our stalwart GP sent an urgent referral across to you and once again, you refused to take him. This time you insisted that you wouldn’t even consider a referral sanctioned by GOSH unless he was examined by a GP first, so we did as asked, got him examined and re-sent the referral.

We are now nearly 3 weeks on and the best you can offer is an initial assessment in February 2014. If this is your response to an urgent referral, I dread to think how long a child might need to wait for a so-called non-urgent one. Our GP has been fantastic and can’t do enough to support us. Their admin staff are searching high and low for any possible alternatives for us and making phone-calls that are definitely above and beyond their call of duty.

You have been fantastically dreadful and are refusing to budge on your decision.

I understand that you are busy. I understand that your beds are full of other sick children. I understand that you feel you don’t know my child any more and are reluctant to offer him treatment based on the recommendation of other health professionals.

BUT, you are failing a 7 year old child.

A child who is in constant pain that waxes and wanes to an increasing level every day. A child who wakes in the night crying because of the pain in his tummy. A child who needs medical intervention now, so that the problems don’t multiply and escalate in the lead up to Christmas. A child who is at emotional breaking point and desperately needs some help. A child who doesn’t understand why I can’t make him better and why you won’t help.

GOSH is helping as best they can and is working alongside our GP to prescribe a series of stronger laxatives for us to use safely at home. The problem is that we won’t know for sure whether they’ve worked or not and will just have to keep trying during the festive season. What’s more we’re back at GOSH in the New Year, the best part of 6 weeks before you’ll see him and I’m left wondering what to do for best.

We’ve been told that we need a local paediatrician to be involved in his care. Someone we can liaise with when things get this bad and who can help us get the local care that our child needs. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I don’t trust that you will give him that help and support and yet we can’t be dependent on continual telephone consultations, especially when we know local input would be less of a strain on us all. Frustratingly, I don’t have options. I know just how excellent you can be and yet the last few years have been one disappointment after another. The best alternative to you is in Wales and we can’t get there because of NHS funding policies. We’re caught in a political trap, where everything comes down to money, or the lack of it, and postcodes; and everyone loses sight of the most important thing:

That at the centre of it all there’s a 7 year old boy who just needs someone to help him feel better.

Whirlwind week

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Having written my last blog about finally making the big decision to request that M has more scopes done, we settled in to what we assumed would be an inevitable wait for the appointment to be made. Having been told 6-8 weeks, I studied the calendar and figured out that 6 weeks would be right in the middle of October half-term and, knowing that there was no chance that we could be that lucky, assumed that instead we were looking at a date in the middle of November.

Courtesy of telegraph.co.uk

A week after Mike had spoken to the registrar at GOSH, I received a call from the pre-admissions nurse, S, to talk through M’s notes and agree the arrangements for the scopes. I was reassured to learn that M’s notes clearly state that there is a problem with him coming round from the anaesthetic and S suggested that, as a precaution, he be admitted to Kingfisher Ward for 2 nights to allow close monitoring as he recovered. We discussed the possibility of a pre-med, which is supposed to calm the child before they are given the anaesthetic. She felt this might lessen his reaction, though I was warned that there is a risk that it can have the opposite effect and might make him more aggressive. We agreed that I am open to him taking it, but will discuss it fully with the Consultant Anaesthetist the day before.

However, not unusually when it comes to M, there have been some added complications due to the chronic constipation and impaction he had over the summer. GOSH wanted to admit him for a week into our local hospital to have a fairly heavy bowel prep done – they need to monitor him to ensure he doesn’t get dehydrated plus insert a NG-tube to give him the meds as it seems unlikely that he’s going to be co-operative about taking 4 litres of a “vile-tasting laxative” (the words of the medical staff, not me!).

Mum had some holidays booked during the 6-8 weeks and I had my fingers crossed that the dates wouldn’t clash as G would be staying with her whilst Mike and I stayed up in London with M. S confirmed that she thought the appointment would most likely be in mid-November and that the admissions team would call me within the week to confirm a date. All seemed to be going to plan and I informed both school and work that the appointment would be coming up and that I would let them know as soon as I had a date.

And then last week, the whirlwind hit. Hold on to your hats, this could be a bumpy ride.

Courtesy of m.flikie.com

Friday afternoon 2.30pm – Phone-call from GOSH to say that the proposed date has suddenly become, not 6 weeks away, but rather the week after next, just 10 days notice for all concerned. No time to confirm what the position with our local hospital was, that will have to wait until Monday. Let school know that M will be away for the week and ask if they could organise some work for him whilst he’s there – I know, mean Mummy!

Weekend – Confirm arrangements for G. Mum not away that week, so G can stay with her and stick to her normal routine as much as possible

Monday 10.45am – Speak again to S, the pre-admissions nurse, who has yet to phone our local hospital, but who has a doctor on hand at GOSH to argue our case. Given M is supposed to be admitted there on Wednesday, it all feels a bit tight and needless to say, stress-levels are slowly rising. Suddenly, the 3 days off work and school have become over a week, but still just about manageable as I can do the school-run and so on with G.

Monday 1pm – GOSH doctor calls to confirm some further bits of information including the name of our local consultant (we don’t have one) and which ward M is normally admitted to locally (he’s not). Assured this won’t be a problem and that either she or the local hospital will ring later to confirm when I need to get him there.

Monday 6pm – Phone-call from S to say that the local hospital has refused to take him and so we’ve got to move to Plan B – getting him admitted into GOSH to have it done instead. No idea whether they’ll have a bed for him or when they want to admit him. They need to review the abdominal x-rays done over the summer (by the local hospital!) to see whether he needs to be in the full week or not. Someone will call tomorrow to let me know.

Tuesday 9.30am – Wondering what time GOSH will call and hoping that it’s good news.

Tuesday 12.45pm – Still waiting to hear

Tuesday 3.30pm – Still waiting, but hoping they don’t phone whilst I’m on the school-run.

Tuesday 4pm – Following call from Mike to see if I’ve heard anything – doesn’t he know I’d have rung him if I had? – decide to call and leave a message for the admissions nurse. She is amazingly, wonderfully supportive and has reassured me that she will come up with a Plan C if needs be, though goodness only knows what that will be!

Tuesday 5.15pm – ARRRRGGGHHHH!!! Appointment cancelled as GOSH can’t find him a bed for the week. Profuse apologies from S, who tells me she’s turning grey trying to organise it for us, but that admissions will phone me tomorrow to set up a new date. They’re not going to bother with the local hospital at all, I’m guessing they’ve been unco-operative which fits our experience of them, and instead will do it all at GOSH.

Tuesday 6.30pm – You really, really couldn’t make this stuff up! Phone-call from S, as I’m en-route to taking G to her gymnastics lesson, to say that they’ve found him a bed for next week and so it’s all back on. Can’t confirm what time we’ll need to be there on Monday, so I’m now planning on M and I travelling to London on Sunday. She will phone tomorrow to confirm all details.

Courtesy of telegraph.co.uk

Wednesday 11.45am – Hurrah! Get the champagne flowing, we have lift off. Final confirmation that M will definitely be in from Monday 10am, no ifs, buts or maybes left. S has been a star and has promised to come visit us once he’s on Kingfisher ward on Monday. I can’t wait to meet her and say a huge thanks for persevering with getting this all sorted.

Now, I’m off to work out what we’ll need and how we’re getting to London next week.

Viva Portugal – and our answer on a postcard!

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Courtesy of mapsof.net

Preparing for this summer’s holiday to Portugal went well as we completed the Pellet study with M and I finally answered the question of how to carry all of M’s medicines and foods without paying for an extra bag. So, all I needed to do in the last two days was pick up our holiday money, pack the suitcases and speak to GOSH about the test results from the abdominal x-ray.

Needless to say, the first two list items were quickly ticked off and I even managed to fill the extra suitcase for M without forgetting anything essential. Tracking GOSH down and speaking to them sensibly took a little longer. I was anxious to discuss the results of the Pellet Study and what the next step was before we went on holiday, especially given that M’s move up to his new school was imminent soon after our return. The registrar I finally spoke to on the Friday morning had a real mix of news for me.

The good news was that the x-ray showed that M had passed most of the radiopaque markers – his x-ray was a mix of images 1 and 2 – which suggested that there was no real issue with his gut motility. The bad news was, that despite 12 days on an increased level of Movicol, M was still heavily impacted. What wasn’t clear was whether we had ever successfully emptied his bowel or if he had become re-constipated during the 5 days he was not taking the Movicol during the study.

The next decision was not an easy one to make, especially with a week abroad on the horizon. We had to continue with the Movicol, taking 4 sachets daily for the week we were away, which would hopefully keep things moving and empty his bowel out as was so desperately needed. Both the registrar and I felt it was likely that the 4 sachets would be too much for M’s system, but we really had no other choice and reluctantly I agreed, with a follow up phone-call planned for the first Monday back home. Into the suitcase went the required sachets and extra packs of pull-ups to see us through the week.

Despite the challenges we knew this would bring, we were determined to enjoy the much needed break and the sun. We set off with plenty of time to spare “just in case”, breezed through check-in and customs, survived the 2 hour wait to our flight and eventually landed safely in Faro. An hour’s taxi ride to the resort, a quick late night tuna pasta dinner (courtesy of the supply suitcase) and we were into bed for a good night’s sleep before our holiday started properly.

The week was amazing. The kids loved every moment of both the beach and the pool and we were all amazed at how much their confidence had grown in the last year. M revelled in splashing about and jumping waves, which was something he wouldn’t do the first time we went just 2 years ago. He was also brilliant at wearing a pull-up under his swimming trunks to avoid any unwanted problems in the water. It was far more challenging to change him because of the combination of damp bodies, tight-fitting pull-ups and wet trunks, but we survived it.

He had his moments and we had a couple of major melt-downs as he let out his frustrations about his condition and all that was going on. Unfortunately, Mike suffered the brunt of this as he’s not usually the one on-hand all day, but he survived it too. The upside is that it gives more ammunition and examples to pass on to the CAMHS team when we see them later this month to argue the case for M needing more support to cope with his emotional and psychological well-being.

M’s trusty friend “Cat”, came on holiday with us and the maids made M smile by dressing him in M’s pjs

We even managed our meals. This year we chose to eat breakfast and lunch in our apartment every day, rather than venture to the breakfast buffet provided at the hotel. It was a difficult decision because both children love the opportunity to chose from the vast array of food available, but we knew that it would be a far too limited choice for M. Instead we ate out every evening at a number of local restaurants along from the hotel. One of the best things about eating out in Portugal is that it was surprisingly easy to accommodate M’s food restrictions. His love for most things fish and seafood meant that we were able to order fresh fish that was cooked in olive oil with a side order of chips and he was satisfied. We found that most of the restaurants were helpful in preparing prawns or fish without any sauces and we skipped dessert as none of us needed it.

As expected, the movicol made the week difficult, but it made a big difference to be dealing with all the stresses and strains in a sunnier climate. We all needed the break from the daily grind at home and I came back feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the challenges of the new term.

One of the many sandcastle creations M built during the week

This summer

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This summer has not been the sunny, fun-filled and relaxing one we were hoping for. This summer has thrown up a few unexpected bumps in the road which we’ve had to negotiate whilst trying to hang on to our sanity. This summer has had its highs and its lows, but we’ve got there in the end and have lived to tell the tale, just.

Courtesy of i360life.com

I haven’t been able to share the truth about this summer before now because this summer has been incredibly hard on M. It is only now that we are through the worst and have a plan of action, that I feel able to talk about it. I have made numerous phone-calls to GOSH to try and reach a place that has left us all feeling reassured and relatively happy.

At the beginning of July, M had an abdominal x-ray as well as starting on his new medicine, Nalcrom, but we had seen no improvement for him. To my complete surprise, the x-ray showed that M was chronically constipated and impacted all the way from his colon to his rectum. The first thing to tackle was clearing his system out, thereby giving him a fighting chance to recover the toileting improvements that he’d experienced at the start of the year.

This meant the return of our old friend, Movicol, a softening laxative that enables the body to better pass the stools without too much pain. We had used it when G was struggling with her own gastro difficulties, but the intervening 3 or 4 years had rendered my memory somewhat hazy as to how to manage this medicine. However, for once I felt confident that I knew what I was dealing with.

The plan was to embark on a routine that would see M taking an increasing dose of Movicol to enable the fecal impaction to be cleared from his body. Once this happened, he would need to continue on a maintenance level to keep his system moving until our next appointment at GOSH in October. Whilst this may sound easy enough, at the maximum level we were asking M to drink an extra 500mls of medicine a day and one that he hated taking and it was a struggle every step of the way.

Courtesy of myblogz.us

The downside was that, whilst on the increased dosage, M would suffer from even more chronic diarrhoea until the blockage was out and I knew that he would really struggle with this proposal. Just imagine the horror of being an active 7 year-old boy with minimal control of your bowels and a fear that someone might find out and make fun of you.

On the flipside, the advantage of being in the summer holidays was that we could tackle the problem thoroughly and hopefully resolve it fully before M starts at his new school in September. I suggested to M that for the relatively short time he was on the medicine he returned to wearing a pull-up. This would solve any embarrassing incidents whilst we were out and about during the summer and would give him the reassurance that other people wouldn’t know when he soiled himself. He reluctantly agreed, being obviously torn between the nightmare of wearing pull-ups as a 7 year old and that of being unable to control his bowel when in public.

Courtesy of http://www.gonannies.com

The first 14 days were hell, but the medicine did its thing and progress seemed to have been made. He struggled to cope and his fears of discovery and frustrations about his toileting spilled over into his day-to-day behaviour and those of us closest, Mike, G and me, suffered the consequences. He and I spent time together, seeing who could shout out louder and rant and rave more about how unfair the situation was. M needed to scream out the tension because it was unfair. Unfair that my beautiful, bright 7 year old was once again subject to the fraility of his body and couldn’t be like all of his friends. Unfair that I had to hold him sobbing once more because he just couldn’t understand why all this was happening to him and didn’t know how to cope. Unfair that the one person in the world who should be able to make it all better (me), couldn’t guarantee that there was an end in sight. His one over-riding fear was that he would need to continue to wear the pull-ups when he went back to school. The hardest thing for me was not being able to reassure him 100% that that wouldn’t be the case. We hope it won’t be for his sake, but as I’ve quickly learned, there are no guarantees especially when it comes to this condition.

Unfortunately, despite the promising start, we discovered blood in a number of his stools as well as mucous, both of which are an indicator of intestinal damage. Having a plan in place, even if contains new tests and possibly more medicines, means that I know we will get to the point of some answers, although they might not be as conclusive as we would want.

7 years to diagnosis

Searching for an answer