Tag Archives: complaint

“Muuummm, what’s for tea tonight?”


Oh how this resonates..

If your family is anything like mine, that question usually comes just as you’re struggling through the door: with house keys in one hand, car key gripped firmly between your teeth, handbag on one arm, cello on your back, mobile phone pressed to your ear as you attempt to talk to the dietitian/consultant/other healthcare provider, who’s asking if now is a good time to talk and you can’t say no as you’ve been trying to contact them urgently for at least the last 3 days and who knows when they might call again; plus the school bag(s)/shopping bag(s)/extraneous bag(s)* (*delete as appropriate) you’ve picked up along the way are weighing down your other side and threatening to upset the delicate balance you’ve perfected in your struggle to cover the 100 yards or less from your car to the house.  Meanwhile, your curious offspring are waltzing in behind you, or possibly squeezing past you, through the already impossibly small and too-narrow-to-negotiate-safely doorway, bearing no more than a half-empty water bottle and their coat, worn superhero style to leave their hands free to carry absolutely nothing else at all.  And just as you think you’ve achieved it and managed to get everything safely inside, they open their mouth and ask that unavoidably fraught dinner-question and the peace shatters and your world tumbles down around your ears.  Does any of that sound familiar or is it just my household?

For M at the moment, my answer is fairly standard, although he adds his own unique twist by asking if dinner will be “chicken with rice and cucumber” or perhaps “rice and chicken with a side of cucumber”?  For a while, when he was still 100% elemental, he would even ask if he could have “air-sticks” – “like bread sticks you see, but without the bread” – showing that the ability to laugh his way through this experience is his greatest strength in beating this disease.  I have become a self-confessed expert in cooking with 3 principle ingredients – rice, chicken and cucumber – and the bonus extras of herbs, rapeseed oil and sugar.  Rice has been broadened to include its derivatives and the inclusion of rice milk, rice cream and rice pops (as long as they’re gluten-free) has added to my ever-increasing repertoire of 3-ingredient recipes.

Rice-flour sugar cookies

Rice-flour sugar cookies

In the past few weeks, as well as my fall-back favourites of roast or grilled chicken with plain boiled rice, I have also perfected deep-fried savoury rice balls, chicken nuggets, chicken and cucumber curry, fried rice, chicken stir-fry, rice-flour sugar cookies and rice pudding.  My Mum has also made M a chicken breast stuffed with rice and cucumber, courtesy of the inspiration and some nifty hints suggested by our hairdresser and which was an instant hit with our young diner.  It’s surprising just how many different recipes you can create with just a few ingredients and there’s even a few more that I’m hoping to try out in the coming weeks.  What started out as a daunting challenge to entice M’s appetite and encourage him to once again eat whilst navigating the tricky world of identifying his food allergies, has become yet another success story in our household.

Letter-to-the-EditorSqareMy victory with such a limited range of ingredients has been all the sweeter given the recent UK news story of the letter sent to the Daily Telegraph newspaper by over 100 top chefs and restauranteurs condemning recent EU legislation requiring restaurants to provide information about which of the top 14 allergens the dishes on their menus contain.  It was never a requirement that they did not cook with these ingredients, but rather that they should be able to inform diners of what the food prepared contains, with the knowledge and pride in their ingredients that I would expect from any talented chef.  Whilst widely welcomed by those of us in the allergy-world as a step towards helping us make informed decisions about eating out, these chefs warned that such requirements would harm “…the spontaneity, creativity and innovation restaurants and others in the industry have enjoyed up until now.

Like so many others in my situation, I wrote a response on the Telegraph website, pointing out that this legislation will help me to protect my children and give them experiences that will ensure their continued health and enjoyment,  I do not deny that it’s up to me (and they as they grow older) to ask about allergens, but there’s no point asking these questions if the restaurants, waiting staff or chefs cannot provide the information needed and the lack of understanding about cross-contamination risks is sadly common across the food industry.

20140818_143459Our experience last summer in Disney proved that this type of requirement does not need to be restrictive as excellent allergen information was readily available and nearly everywhere we ate produced meals for G and M that rivalled those being served to any other customer there with a “normal” diet. The chefs were knowledgable, came to our table to discuss their allergy needs and made the effort to find out what my challenging duo would like to eat – excellent service all done with a smile.

The big challenge was always to cook M-friendly food and these days that task has become even more testing.  In my opinion, these rules will have little impact on spontaneity or ingenuity – try cooking or baking when you need to avoid wheat/gluten, egg, dairy, soya and potato to name but a few.  Ingenuity comes when you try to prepare a meal that makes your child feel that they’re not missing out and that’s something I feel I’ve proved is possible, even for an amateur cook like me.

The 3rd and final step

M and his tube at GOSH

M and his tube at GOSH

With steps 1 and 2 complete, we were now onto the third step, the one which is going to have the biggest impact on M’s life for the next few months.  NG-tube in place, dis-impaction done and pellet study under way, it was now time to move M to an “elemental” diet, one which sees all foods removed from his diet and replaced by a nutritionally complete feed that consists of amino acids, carbohydrates, fats, vitamins and minerals.  The ideal would be for M to drink the 1.8 litres of this feed that he needs each day to have the right amount of calories and nutrients for his age, weight and height, but I knew we had no chance of getting him to do that.  Not only is he a reluctant drinker at the best of times, meaning it would be nigh impossible to get nearly 2 litres of liquid into him on a daily basis, but the feed is truly revolting to taste and even adding generous quantities of approved flavouring was never going to be enough to convince him to let more than a minimal amount pass his lips.  The only alternative was to feed him via his NG-tube, which meant an intensive few days in hospital for us as we worked out how best to give the feeds, the timings and rates that he could tolerate and I was trained on how to manage his tube.

The original plan proposed by the dietitians was that M receive six 300mls feeds a day via the gravity-feeding method, which meant that we would attach a large syringe to the end of his tube and gradually add the 300mls over the duration of the feed to ensure he took the full amount.  The principle of gravity feeding is that you can adjust the speed of the feed as the flow of the liquid is driven by the height of the syringe and the effect of gravity:  the higher the syringe, the faster the flow. The dietitian was keen that the feed be given over around 20 minutes, but it quickly became obvious that this just wasn’t going to be a method that would suit M.  Within 5 minutes of his very first feed starting, he turned pale and grey and complained that his stomach was hurting. The nurse giving the feed adjusted how high the syringe was held, but no matter how the syringe was positioned, things didn’t get better and by feed number 2, the nurses were adamant that this just wasn’t going to work for him, something I wholeheartedly agreed with.  At this point, we were only giving him 200mls instead of the full 300mls, but even that was proving too much for M’s sensitive digestion, so the dietitian finally had to agree to what the nurses were telling her and everything was changed yet again.

M's rather snazzy new pump

M’s rather snazzy new pump

Our new routine saw the feed mixed to a higher concentration, meaning that we only needed to get 1.5 litres into him a day and we were introduced to the wonders of a pump.  The pump means that the rate of giving the feed can be at a speed that best suits M and can easily be tweaked as each individual situation requires.  There was a lot to learn in the few days we had as I needed to know and be confident in how to check that his tube was correctly positioned, what to do if it appeared to have moved, how to prepare the elemental feeds and how to attach and properly operate the pump.  There was also the added complexity that the pumps used on ward by GOSH were not the same as the one approved in our community and whilst the principle was the same, the processes were slightly different.  However, by the time discharge finally happened, I was as au fait with this new part of our life as I could hope to be, felt that we could cope at home and, more crucially, had enough medical supplies to see us through the next few days.

M and his tube at home

M and his tube at home

Since that first day, now over a month ago, that original regime has been changed and tweaked more times that I care to imagine.  The suggestion of 6 feeds being administered at separate 30 minutes periods throughout the day were impossible for M to manage as he wasn’t able to tolerate the 250mls over either the initial proposed 30 minutes, nor our second attempt of an hour.  It also quickly proved impractical as any issues with the placement of the tube would take at least 20 minutes to resolve and that was time that we couldn’t expect the school to give him as he doesn’t get any individual support.  We soon realised that M wasn’t coping either physically or emotionally with the constant feeding and we have now settled on a routine that seems to work for everyone concerned.  His first feed is a 1 litre one starting at around 6.30am, which is given slowly enough to avoid too many tummy aches or occurrences of reflux and which lasts until the end of lunch-time.  The pump is disconnected at that point and M is able to enjoy an afternoon free of the encumbrance of his pump whilst at school.  The final 500mls feed begins between 4pm and 4.30pm and takes us all the way through to bedtime.

This is the routine that we will be living with for the next month or so and then the task of food reintroduction will begin.  As our local dietetics team has refused to be involved in M’s care, we will be working with the dietitians from GOSH to work out a detailed approach to trialling foods and the order we try them in.  The elemental feeding via NG-tube will continue alongside these food challenges until we have identified enough safe foods for M to eat and get all the calories and nutrients he needs to be healthy.  It’s not going to be an easy or quick task to complete, indeed there is a long and arduous road ahead, but it should be one that leads to more answers for M’s health than we’ve ever had before.

Round Two: the Pellet study and other adventures

Courtesy of 123opendata.com

Courtesy of 123opendata.com

Once the NG-tube was finally in place, M and I then had 5 long days to survive the copious amounts of Klean-prep, senna and picolax that were pumped into his system to clear his troublesome bowel.  Although we appeared to be off to a slow start, these powerful laxatives finally did their job and by late Monday afternoon, the gastro registrar was confident that we were ready to start the pellet study and a x-ray confirmed his opinion.  I had already met with one of the gastro investigation nurses, so knew that the 3 pellets, containing different shaped plastic markers, were ready and waiting on the ward for M and all we needed to work out was how best to get him to swallow them.

Over the last year, we have made huge strides in getting M to swallow tablets whole and no longer need a spoonful of Grandma’s jam to help the medicine go down as he has conquered his struggles and now merrily swallows them with just a mouthful of water to help.  However, there were 2 problems we now had to overcome:  M’s new-found fear of swallowing capsules with the NG-tube in place and the fact that these pellets are of a size that even I would struggle to take easily, let alone a small child.  The nurse suggested we resorted to mixing the markers into a couple of spoonfuls of jam and that was our first attempt.  For reasons that will remain forever unclear, M found even this method difficult to manage and instead resorted to swallowing the pellets one tiny marker at a time.  It may have taken considerably longer than anyone expected, but the pellets were taken and so round 2 of our admission was well underway.

The week should have been an easy one, as it was supposed to require nothing more of us than completing the pellet study, but unfortunately it was at this point that I had to brace myself and find the strength to weather an unexpected and turbulent storm.  Despite both Mike and I having repeatedly made clear that we have almost no support from our local hospital and their paediatric gastro team, this information appeared to have got lost along the way and I found myself embroiled in a battle to keep M in hospital once the pellet study had started.  GOSH felt sure that we would receive all the care and advice we would need from our local and nothing I said would convince them otherwise. battle I spent more hours than I care to remember fighting M’s corner and insisting that the consultants didn’t discharge him before the study was complete and the NG feeding started.  The pressure was huge, both on me – as I talked, discussed and cried my way through numerous meetings with nurses, doctors, dietitians, psychologists, PALs workers and indeed anyone else who would listen – and on Mike – as he sought to juggle the challenges of working, looking after G at home and supporting M and me whilst we were several hours away and only contactable by phone.

It quickly became evident that GOSH simply could not conceive that we could be as lacking local support as I was asserting we were and I have no doubt that they were beginning to view me as something of an overwrought, overtired, over-emotional and somewhat neurotic mother, who was unbelievably arguing to keep her child in hospital, when most other parents were trying desperately to get their children discharged before Christmas.  By the end of the week, it had all come to a head and I was at my wits’ end, but was finally vindicated late Friday afternoon, when our local dietetics team refused in no uncertain terms to take on M on a shared care basis with the GOSH dietitians – an entirely new experience for GOSH, though sadly an all too familiar one for us.

lighttunnelDespite all the heartache and distress this unnecessary battling caused, there was some really positive light at the end of the transit study tunnel.  The final x-ray on Friday indicated that M’s bowel is working more or less as it should.  It may be a little slower than ideal, but the markers had moved through M’s system and the consultant was delighted with this result, which means that the bowel is currently doing its job.  We really couldn’t ask for anything more.  So, the conclusion drawn is that it is the complex and multiple food allergies that have been causing M’s diarrhoea and other symptoms because of his underlying condition, EGID and the final step is to identify these as accurately as possible.

Dear BBC Controller

Sometimes something happens that leaves me lost for words.

Having heard the furore on Facebook from fellow EGID parents, Mike and I sat down last night to watch Tuesday’s episode of “Holby City” on the I-player.  To say that I was speechless as the drama unfolded would be an under-statement; to say that by the end I was fuming would be a gross denial of the feelings that it had caused.  My hackles started to rise from the moment we were introduced to the character later described acerbically as “Mr Allergies” and we both sat in stunned disbelief as the storyline ended with everything being cured by a rapid diagnosis and a special injection.

For those of you who aren’t Holby City fans, or who didn’t have the misfortune to catch it when it aired on Tuesday night, let me give you a quick precis.  A young man, portrayed from the start as little more than a time-waster and with a list of allergies as long as your arm, is admitted into the hospital.  Nobody can pinpoint what’s wrong, but the doctor in charge of his care recognises that his symptoms fit with EGID.  She performs that little-known-as-highly-reliable diagnosing tool of an ultrasound (!) to rule out Crohns disease and Diverticulitis and comes to the conclusion that it could possibly be EGID, but is more likely to be a mental health issue due to him craving being a “rare” individual and the attention that obviously affords him.  On the basis of all this, and having given him leaflets about planning his own funeral, she tells him it’s a previously unidentified trapped nerve, gives him an injection and within minutes he’s up on his feet, completely cured and feeling better than he has in years.

If only M’s life were that simple.  If only a simple injection could take away the pain and acute discomfort that M struggles with on a daily basis.  If only I could tell him that the magic wand we both are longing for has finally appeared and all his hurt and frustration and despair will be gone, just like that.  If only it was likely that since he was small, my distraught 8 year-old has been craving nothing more than extra attention by being a medical rarity.  If only I’d known that it was all in his mind, or, more likely, all in mine as I’ve known from babyhood that there was something very wrong.

It has taken 7 years for us to reach a diagnosis, bypassing multiple doctors who thought it nothing more than a bad case of toddler diarrhoea and a somewhat neurotic mother.  Even though we now know his chronic illness by name, lack of funding and research means that we still don’t have any answers and every step taken with GOSH is a step of faith that something will help at some point. Every day I meet with people who have no idea what EGID is and the impact it can have on the family as a whole, let alone on my 8 year old himself.  Most of the medical staff we see have never heard of the illness, do not understand the subtle nuances of this hidden disease and have no idea how much we all need their help.  And we’re not on our own.  There are over 300 other families who look to FABED for support and share the highs and lows of this illness with each other, as we can understand like no outsider can; and that’s just in the UK.

 I’ve done my bit:

I’ve made my complaint known – via Twitter, via Facebook and via the BBC online complaints system – and I’ve written this blog.  BUT the damage is done.  Nothing is going to be able to take away their careless portrayal of EGID to the 5 million who watched Holby City on Tuesday night.  I would love to meet the researchers and writer for Tuesday’s episode to understand who they spoke to and where their information was sourced.  The daily battle that M and other EGID children struggle with bears no ressemblance to what was shown, but sadly that is the viewpoint the public will now hold.  I would love for them to spend time living life in the shoes of an EGID family, even for a day, so they could experience a fraction of the living hell that that life can be at times.  To comprehend the heartbreaking decisions we EGID parents have to make and the challenges of restricted foods, bowel problems, chronic pain and a multitude of daily medicines our babies deal with.  This type of inaccurate and frankly irresponsible representation of a serious illness is not what I associate with the BBC and it is left to parents like me, who have enough daily battles to fight, to raise awareness and voice our concerns.

You can do your bit too:  Just share this blog.  Make your family; friends; colleagues; strangers in the street aware of it and the rare illness that affects children like M and families like mine.  I don’t mind how you do it – RT it; link it to your Facebook page; send it out to your email address list; print it out and pin on noticeboards around your town; or get it emblazoned across the sky – but please do it and help us get our voice heard.

Local update

update-timeYou may remember that back in December, M was referred on an urgent referral to our local hospital based on the advice of GOSH.  He was suffering from chronic constipation, was in considerable pain and was losing weight as his appetite decreased.  Sadly, our local hospital felt it was unable to admit or treat M and instead our only option was to treat him at home, using a strong laxative and bucket-loads of patience as he struggled to recover his health. Our urgent referral resulted in the offer of an appointment with a general paediatrician in February, nearly 12 weeks after the referral was originally made.  We thought long and hard about whether we wanted to take up this appointment or not, given our previous experience with our local hospital, but we knew that local input could make a big difference to all our lives and felt that this could be our way into the local system.

apptFebruary’s appointment arrived quicker than we could have imagined and we went along with an attitude of “hoping for the best, but expecting the worst”.  The symptoms that M was suffering back before Christmas have disappeared and we have had the challenge of changing his diet and his medicines again in an attempt to reach a status quo with the EGID. What we hoped for was a local doctor who would listen to our concerns and who would offer us the helping hand we so desperately need.  We wanted a local doctor who could point us in the right direction at the hospital and would support our search for shared care between our local hospital and GOSH for M.

Instead we got a doctor who, through their less-than-professional manner, vocal criticisms of both our GP and GOSH and obvious impatience, left us feeling let down once again.  They belittled our decision to seek a second opinion when the local hospital had let us down 3 years ago and were unimpressed that we had our own point of view concerning the care given to M.  They reluctantly agreed to refer us on to the gastro team at the hospital, but made it clear that they believed it highly unlikely any of the gastro consultants would willingly take M on a shared care basis with GOSH.  Mike and I weren’t surprised, but we were disappointed that this consultant chose to make their opinions known so clearly in front of our impressionable and sensitive 7 year old.

complaintNeedless to say, we are not letting things drop there.  We have written a letter of complaint to our local hospital and are now waiting for their response to our concerns.  I am writing to our MP to make him aware of how badly M is being let down health-wise locally, to see if he will get involved on our behalf.  We will persist with the onward referral to one of the gastro consultants because we remain strong in our belief that shared care between our local hospital and GOSH is something M needs;  AND we will continue to fight M’s corner to make sure that he is put first and gets the support he needs.

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.