Tag Archives: EGID

A week is a long time

As I watched my active 7 year-old today, I realised that not many people would believe that 2 weeks ago he was in hospital going through 3 days of intensive bowel preparation, an anaesthetic, a colonoscopy and an endoscopy. This child, who is currently refusing to give in to his tiredness and go to sleep, has been running around like a wild thing, laughing and having fun. This time 2 weeks ago, he was quiet, in pain and reluctantly resigned to his fate.

A week ago, much to the surprise of friends and colleagues, despite having spent a week in GOSH, M was back at school as if nothing had happened. He reluctantly agreed to my ruling of no PE for the week, but I couldn’t stop him running around the playground with his friends trying to catch up on his missed week of fun. A week ago, we pulled him off the trampoline at home with a suggestion that bouncing around was perhaps not the most sensible thing after having investigative procedures on his GI tract – he has bounced back to full health, almost literally!

That Thursday was a long day for us all. Mike had travelled to London on the Wednesday to spend time with M and help distract him from all that was planned. As well as the extensive bowel prep, M had had a cannula put into his left hand on Wednesday afternoon and had once again impressed the nurses with his stoicism as he watched them put the needle in without shedding a tear. He laughed and joked with them as they did it and even discussed whether they would need to put a second one in his other hand.

Mike arrived back on Kingfisher ward around 8am Thursday, bringing with him a much-needed croissant and vanilla latte for my breakfast. M had been without food for 24 hours by this point and, whilst he accepted that I had to eat for my health, he didn’t want to see Mike eating food. We sat with a nervous M and played endless rounds of Top Trumps as we waited for the nurses to come and prepare him for the scopes. He eventually changed into a hospital gown and disappeared off to the Wii for one more game of Lego Batman with Mike to relieve the tension.

Finally, the nurse and consultant arrived to meet us and summon M to the investigation suite. We took Cat in with him, but M was determined to prove how brave he was and asked me to take Cat back to his bed with me. We kissed him good luck, watched as the anaesthetist put the “magic milk” into his cannula, heard him count unsuccessfully to 10 and then beat a hasty retreat back to his cubicle to wait for it all to be over.

Poor Cat, all ready for surgery, but relegated to wait instead

Nearly an hour and a half later, and this time prepared to be waiting beyond the 45 minutes the hospital staff had said, the consultant appeared to talk through what he had seen during the procedure. The best news was that the scopes looked much better than last time and whilst there were still obvious areas of inflammation, the damage had been reduced and consequently M bled considerably less than previously. There are signs of some problems in his upper GI tract, but we need to wait for the biopsies to come back from the laboratory to see what they show. Everything supports the EGID diagnosis and shows that the medicine and restricted diet are making a significant difference to his insides and we should continue to persevere with them.

Even better, M’s reaction to the anaesthetic was significantly better than the previous times and whilst there were some unexpected concerns with low blood pressure and pulse rate – he really is my son as I suffer the same problems – the hallucinogenic reaction was relatively mild and within 3 hours of coming round from the sedation, he was back playing the Wii with Mike., something we had never even imagined would be possible.

So now we’re on to our next wait until the results are returned and every week between now and our follow-up appointment is going to be an extremely long time.

Playing the waiting game

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I have tried to write this post over and over again tonight and, having reached draft number 4, I’m still not 100% happy with it. I’ve really struggled with how to put this past week into words without sounding long-winded or overly-dramatic or twee. It was a tough week for us all and I’m not sure that there are really words that can encapsulate our emotions and reactions. All I can try to do is to share our experiences and give you a sense of where we are now that we’ve reached the end of it all. I’ve decided to split the week into more than one blog-post as there is just too much to share in one simple offering.

Courtesy of bbc.co.uk

The first day was filled with long waits and I wish that this had been something I’d been prepared for, but my survival guide gurus hadn’t pointed this out as a possibility. I was naïve in believing that the process of getting M booked in and admitted onto the ward would be a straightforward one, especially given the chaos of sorting the appointment out, but I had successfully talked myself out of my anxieties and lulled myself into a false sense of security.

Despite my last phone conversation with S confirming that I needed to have M at GOSH for 10am on Monday morning, the information hadn’t fully trickled through their systems and we started the day with a 20-minute wait to even get into the waiting area for the ward. Having found M’s notes and confirmed that we were indeed due there at that time – no, it wasn’t a figment of my imagination – we were then subject to a further 1 hour and 20 minutes waiting before M was seen by a nurse.

Fortunately for me, M discovered a sympathetic father in the waiting room, who was able to help him get the x-box working and gave him tips on how to play Lego Indiana Jones on it. M and another boy tackled the game together whilst I took a seat nearby, where I was able to keep an eye on M as well as listen out for his name to be called.

Indiana Jones – a great distraction for a long wait

Eventually I heard M’s name and the process of getting him booked in began. His measurements was taken, discussions were had about when and how to tackle the various medical procedures that were needed over the next few days and finally we were shown to his bed. It was at this point that the nurse apologised for the delay, “But we hadn’t been expecting M until 4pm” she said, I shrugged my shoulders and inwardly sighed. We had a bed, the nurses were going to get the NG-tube fitted later to start him on the Klean-prep (a strong laxative) and all we needed for the time-being was some lunch.

Unfortunately, we had waited so long to be admitted that it was now too late to arrange a special diet meal for M and instead he and I wrapped up against the rain and headed out to a nearby supermarket to buy some M-friendly foods to satiate his appetite. We filled the afternoon with activities and TV as well as participating in a brand new research study that M had been invited to join at the end of the week before.

The George Cross awarded for “acts of the greatest heroism or of the most conspicuous courage “

It wasn’t until around 4.30pm that we finally tackled the matter of the NG-tube. To say that I was, and still am, incredibly proud of my brave little boy is a gross understatement. This was a new procedure for him and he sat without making a noise as they passed the tube through his nose and down into his tummy. His distress at the pain was obvious as I watched a single, solitary tear roll down his cheek. The only sound was uttered once it was in place, “Cuddle Mummy“. That nearly broke my heart, to hear my usually lively, garrulous and loud lad reduced to a single heartfelt request.

They started him on the first 4 litres of the Klean-prep and so our wait began. We had no idea whether M was still constipated or not after the summer, so the proposed plan of attack was 3 days on the Klean-prep at a rate of 4 litres a day, adding the standard pre-procedure laxatives of senna and picolax on day 3 and then, if there was any doubt whether his bowels were clear, an enema was booked for Thursday morning before the scopes happened. By Wednesday, it was looking possible that the enema might be needed, but we finally had the necessary break-through on Wednesday evening and that little joy was avoided.

At this stage, M and I had been more or less confined to the hospital buildings since around 2pm on Monday. I had been able to pop out to grab meals, but poor M hadn’t been able to leave at all. We had taken advantage of 2 occasions of being disconnected from his drip and stretched his legs beyond the space of Kingfisher ward. It had been an interminable 3 days and in very many ways, we still had a lot of waiting to do.

A Parent’s Survival Guide to staying in hospital

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I have lots of experience of extended stays in hospital, but the proposed week ahead with M felt more daunting than normal. It might have had something to do with his very obvious nerves and reluctance to go, but I worried about how I was going to keep him entertained and comfortable for a week filled with heavy-duty bowel prep, anaesthetic and scopes. I turned once again to the support of FABED, where I knew a number of parents had experience of, not only an extended stay at GOSH, but on Kingfisher ward too, and asked them for their suggestions of essential things to take with us.

So, it is with many, many heartfelt thanks to those wonderful individuals, we survived the week and I’ve put together a list of the “must-haves” for a hospital stay:

A supply of easy-to-store snacks and squash for both parents and child – remember that your child might be on a restricted diet in preparation for their procedure, so be flexible and prepared to nip out to a local supermarket to add to your stock if needs be

I-pad/tablet/DS plus games AND chargers – these were invaluable as M was confined to bed for a lot of the week. I loaded a number of his favourite audio books on to my tablet, which gave M something to listen to at bedtime. A crucial part of his regular night-time routine

Favourite books – a mix of something your child can look at on their own as well as old favourites that you both can share

Favourite toy/comforter – M’s cat travelled with us as always and went almost everywhere with M. It’s not so much that M struggles to sleep without him, but he’s a source of comfort when uncomfortable medical procedures have to be endured
Cat ready in his scrubs for the week ahead
Colouring In/Stickers/Craft activities – anything that can keep them occupied whilst they’re in bed. A friend suggested we could start on our Christmas cards whilst there – I just wish I’d had time to sort that one out as it would have been something we could have begun with no pressure of having to complete it when M had had enough

School-work – ask if your child’s school is prepared to send some work for them to do during their stay. Needless to say, M was extremely reluctant to do any during the week, but we persevered and read some books as well as practised some spellings ready for a test on his return
A little reading and some spellings to learn

Headphones/ear-plugs – if you find it difficult to sleep in a quietly busy location, then these will be invaluable to making sure you get some rest. We bought a set of headphones for M, which were a real life-saver during the week. He was able to listen to the TV and audio books without disturbing anyone else and that really helped him to settle to sleep each night

Mini lego sets/action figures – M has recently enjoyed playing with some plastic soldiers that he “won” when we were last on holiday in Canada. For this stay, I bought a pack of them which included tanks, planes, helicopters and bunkers – hours of fun that constantly changed and that could be put away quickly too
M and Daddy putting together some new Star Wars Lego
Top trumps or travel games – they’re small, easy to pack and entertaining for at least 5 minutes! We could play a game and then pack it away as soon as M wanted

Courtesy of waitrose.com

Clothes – Enough clothes and sets of pyjamas to see you through the week. As M was having bowel prep, I packed masses of underwear as well as pairs of pjs – it still wasn’t enough, but got me through 24hours without too much stress

Warm jumper – for both the child and the parent for when the nights get chilly

Washing powder/gel – we went through M’s clothes far quicker than I had anticipated. Fortunately GOSH has a Patients laundry room with 2 washing machines and 2 tumble dryers. I was able to run a load through both every evening at a cost of no more than the washing powder to clean the clothes

Slippers – I really, really wish I’d thought of taking slippers with us for both me and M. I didn’t want to wear my shoes all the time, but wasn’t always comfortable to walk around in nothing more than my socks

Blanket/pillow – it’s nice to have that extra bit of comfort that reminds you and your child of home. M had 2 blankets with him, which he curled up with every night whilst giving Cat a much needed cuddle

Treats for Mum (or Dad!) – hand cream, lip balm, comfy socks, soft loo roll were among the suggestions and all were invaluable to me for the week

And then. my 3 favourite suggestions, that brought a smile to my face and were in much demand during our week at GOSH:

Gin in a tin
A sense of humour
and a LOT of patience!

Courtesy of tesco.com

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.

Big decisions

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Courtesy of stuff.co.nz

We’ve recently had to make a decision about where we’re headed with M’s health and what tests, if any, we want to push GOSH to consider.

We’ve had a mixed success with the Movicol as he has started using the toilet successfully again and we’ve been able to banish the pull-ups to the bottom of the cupboard for the next time there’s a “just in case” situation. However, M now seems to be fluctuating between constipation and chronic diarrhoea and we’ve reduced his dose down to 3 sachets a day as the 4 were really proving to be too much for his system. We’ve tentatively settled there, even though it doesn’t yet feel 100% right.

The positive and best thing is that he’s conquered the toileting struggles. These had been a major source of distress over the summer and it’s nice to back on an even keel. M feels as if he’s more in control of his body – well as much as he can be whilst dealing with the ongoing battle with the symptoms of the EGID – and he’s really happy in school. What’s more, school have been working hard at putting a medical care plan in place for him to deal with the changing nature of his EGID and his medicines, which means that we feel confident that they’re taking the situation seriously and will support him during the school day.

Courtesy of warriorfitness.org

BUT – and you all knew that was coming didn’t you? – I’m still feeling unsettled about his over-all health and have a feeling that we’re not really dealing with the root cause of the problem. Despite some days when it appears he could eat for Britain, his appetite is down and his lunch-box is emptier than ever. He’s beginning to object more to taking his daily medicines and there’s been numerous mornings recently when I’ve held my sobbing child on my lap and had to coax him to take the full implement prescribed.

His sleep patterns are off once again and I’ve lost count of how many mornings I’ve woken up to find a small limpet-like child clinging to me and stealing the duvet from my back. Last night, I disappeared into my bed at 11.20pm, having found M still avidly reading his atlas and discovering new and interesting facts to share with me. It has to be said that a lot of the sleep problems appear to be related to his emotional and psychological health as when Mike came upstairs just 10 minutes later, M was flat out and fast asleep in his own bed. It’s as if he needs to be reassured that Mummy is nearby and once that’s clear, then all is well with the world and he can let himself drift off to sleep.

He’s emotional and tired and fed-up; and, to be honest, so are we. We’re working hard at remembering and focussing on the positives, but sometimes that feels like a step too far. The constant barrage of frustrated behaviour, food management, pain relief, sleeplessness, appointments. emails and phone-calls have drained me completely and I just felt unable to face another discussion with yet another faceless registrar at GOSH, who has little or no knowledge of M and needs me to bring them up to speed before I even get to the point of the phone-call.

So, at the beginning of the week, I asked Mike to speak to GOSH and put forward our case for another set of scopes. It’s been nearly 2 years since the last ones were done and we felt it was high time he was checked again. We’ve got no real answers as to whether all the medicines are 1) necessary or 2) working, the limited diet is a strain and this past week we seem to have added raspberries to the list of forbidden foods. This might seem like an easy decision to make, something of a no-brainer, but, as some of you may remember from my previous blog posts, M suffers from an allergic reaction to the anaesthetic. It’s been a big decision to make to put him through an ordeal that we hope might provide some answers, but that we know will definitely cause him pain.

All I can say is that someone must have been smiling down on Mike on Monday. I’d warned him that his initial phone-call would only get us put on the list and that if he was lucky he’d speak to a registrar on Tuesday or maybe Wednesday. I fully expected that we’d then have to wait for M’s consultant, Dr H, to be consulted and that we might get a final answer by the end of the week. If he argued our case well enough, then there was a possibility we’d get a yes, but I prepared him for battle. So imagine my surprise at getting a text message at 3.45pm on the same day saying that not only had the registrar been spoken to, but they had agreed to recommend scopes and, what was more, Dr H had been contacted, given her agreement and scopes would be scheduled for 6-8 weeks time.

The GOSH gastro team have expressed the same concerns about M’s progress as us and made making that big decision for more investigations much easier than I could ever have hoped. So all we need to do now is wait for the appointment date to be set and it’ll be full steam ahead.

Play-date anyone?

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It is amazing how something so simple can make such a big difference to a small child.

As M started a new school this September and is still getting to know the children in his class, we decided to invite a new friend home for tea after school. M chose C, another child who’s new to the school. I ambushed his Mum a couple of weeks ago to broach the subject of whether he’d like to come home for a play, eventually got round to passing on my contact details and finally settled on a day.

Courtesy of gsapublishing.com

This Tuesday I left work promptly to make sure I was in the right place at the right time to pick up M, C and G. The weather held so they could all burn off their energy and excitement by bouncing on the trampoline and tearing around the paddock like wild things. I chuckled quietly to myself as I heard the 3 of them discussing the ghosts in our house and heard C promising that he would bring back his ghost-detector from home once he’d fixed it – a child with an imagination to match M’s, I thought. I fed them everything-free fish fingers, potato wedges and a variety of veggies determined by the preferences of each individual child. We even survived M having a soiling accident and successfully changed him without C being aware it had even happened.

Nothing particularly out-of-the-ordinary or revolutionary, you might be thinking and you’d be right. The bit that made all the difference came when C’s Mum came to pick him up.

“Thank you so much for having C home for tea,” she said, “he’s the happiest I’ve seen him since we made the move.” And then she uttered the magical words, “Would M like to come home to ours for a play-date next Tuesday after school?”

Before I’d even had a chance to reply, she continued “I can cook just plain chicken drumsticks with vegetables for them for tea, or you can pick him before tea if you’d prefer.”

This woman, who has swiftly become a new friend, had unwittingly just rocked my world. In the last 2 years, since we embarked on our free-from journey with M, he has been home to friends’ houses just twice. The prospect of feeding my food-intolerant child was too daunting to so many of the Mums I’d got to know during M’s first year of school that they just stopped inviting him back after school. One Mum had even told M three separate times that she’d talk to me about arranging a day and what he could eat, and then never bothered to make that effort. Needless to say, that was a friendship that quickly fizzled out as M couldn’t understand why the promised invite never came.

So, for someone who’d known us approximately 5 minutes to take M’s situation and tricky diet completely in her stride and willingly offer to have him home from school, has felt like a real blessing. We’ve got to iron out a couple of wrinkles that are playing on M’s mind – chiefly his medicines and the whole “what if I have an accident whilst I’m at C’s house Mummy” concern – but I’ve got those sussed and I think M is reassured that every eventuality is covered.

Which leaves my 7-year old eagerly anticipating the opportunity to fix the broken ghost-detector – “though I’m not entirely convinced he’s not just making the whole thing up Mummy” – and me as one happy Mummy.

*I’ve just found this article “I’m not neurotic, my kid has food allergy” which helps you understand even more about how important this sort of compassion can be to a family supporting a child with food allergies

The Battle for Breakfast (magnificent muffin recipes included!)

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Courtesy of en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Go_to_work_on_an_egg

Who can forget this advice?

Over the past 12 months, there has been a lot in the national press about the numbers of children who are arriving at school without having eaten any breakfast. More schools have introduced breakfast clubs, in some cases financially supported by the teachers, to ensure that pupils get that all important start to their day. The benefits of a good breakfast to see us all through our day are well-documented and as a Mum, I’ve tried install those principles in my children.

G is a fantastic breakfast eater and always has been. I remember, at an early age, picking her up from nursery and being told by the astounded key-worker that she had eaten 3 whole weetabix for her breakfast that morning. What amazed me more, was that she had already eaten a full bowl of cereal (2 weetabix) at home before getting to nursery – where my tiny mite had put those 5 weetabix we will never know, She happily munches her way through an overflowing bowl of rice pops and cornflakes with raisins and milk and, if she has enough time, then another bowl will be consumed too.

Courtesy of controlengeurope.com

M is the complete polar opposite of his sister. He is much more like me and doesn’t like to eat as soon as he wakes up in the morning. The problem is that due to his sleep issues, I inevitably have to wake him for school and even showering and dressing before we attempt breakfast rarely achieves much success. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to get M to eat even a scrap of breakfast, which simply reflects his current health and declining appetite.

Which is why I’m constantly and desperately searching for a tasty morsel that will entice him to eat first thing, whilst being relatively healthy. We’ve tried toast, bacon sandwiches, cereal, porridge, fresh fruit and yoghurts, all with relatively limited success. One day he’ll eat something like it’s going out of fashion, the next day it’s like getting blood from a stone. I was stuck for ideas until last weekend, when inspiration hit. We were up in London for an extended celebration of my Mum’s birthday and at breakfast on the Sunday morning, G disappeared off to the buffet and came back bearing a mini chocolate chip muffin for me as a thank you for taking them to London for the weekend.

As I munched my way through this tiny treat, it struck me that it was just the thing that might tantalise M’s tastebuds first thing in the morning. All I needed to do was find a muffin recipe and do some of my free-from jiggery-pokery to turn it into the perfect M-friendly nibble. We had a huge amount of rapidly-browning bananas in the fridge, so a recipe for banana muffins seemed the obvious choice. I found one, played around with the ingredients and ended up with this wonderful looking batch:

By the time I got round to photographing the end result, 3 had already been devoured by G&M – success!

Excited by the instant success, and with some left-over bacon and soya- and dairy- free cheese (yes such a thing really does exist) lurking in the bottom of the fridge, I found, adapted and baked a recipe for bacon and cheese muffins. These turned out a little more anaemic-looking and seem to be a recipe I’m going to need to tweak a little more to perfect:

Less golden than the banana ones, but still delicious

So, from one evening’s work, I’ve found 2 new recipes – banana muffins and bacon & cheese muffins – and have a pair of happy children. The only problem? As much as M loves the muffins, it appears they weren’t the weapons I was searching for and the battle to get him to eat breakfast rages on!

Dyspraxia support

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Courtesy of shoreline-pt.com

As well as going back to school, we’ve also had M’s referral appointment for Occupational Therapy to support him with his dyslexia and dyspraxia. We had been warned that we might have to wait up to 9 months for the referral to be made, so you can imagine my delight to be offered an appointment just 3 months into the process. The therapist, D was fantastic and a lot of the health professionals we’ve seen along the way could learn a great deal from her approach to helping M.

Unsurprisingly, she had not come across EGID before, so had spent some time researching the condition and understanding how this might impact on M before we got to the appointment. She had read thoroughly the reports completed by the Dyslexia Centre, school and us, but then spent more time clarifying points with me, taking into consideration the change of schools and asking what we were hoping to achieve through OT. As we chatted, D observed M as he played with the various activities she had set out in the room, including a bat and ball, foam football and low-level balance beam. Her conclusion was that he most needs the support in improving his fine motor skills, which will directly impact his academic prowess and that working on those will then lead to an improvement in his gross motor skills and balance.

She then switched to assess his writing, cutting and cutlery-holding skills, all of which I had mentioned as areas that I felt needed some work. M showed his reluctance to write by insisting on discussing each task she set him, obviously in the hope that he could browbeat her into leaving them untouched, but he had met his match. D listened to his comments, acknowledged them and then prompted him to get on with what she had asked. He may have grumbled each and every step of the way, but he did them all and enabled D to assess as she needed.

Creating and then dismantling paper-clip chains

D suggested a number of games using everyday items – clothes pegs, marbles and paperclips – and explained how these would help build his finger strength. She set him challenges and played the games with him, so that he could understand what was required and she could check that he was doing them correctly. What impressed me the most was that D gauged accurately how many games to introduce and how long to play each one such that she didn’t overwhelm him with suggestions. Playing these games at home several times a week will bring about improvement and I foresee a number of family challenges to see who can perform the best.

A paper plate sun with peg rays to attach every morning

D also agreed that using a writing slope at school will make a massive difference to his writing ability. As it is highly unlikely the school will have one lying around, the OT department will arrange to lend one to the school for 3 weeks, which will allow the teachers to assess the difference it makes to his work. This will be followed up by a written recommendation and a school visit, where D will be able to observe M in the classroom setting and see what else might be done to support M and help him achieve, before meeting with the SENCo and suggesting how some funding from their SEN budget will help.

This school visit will then be followed up by a return appointment with M himself, whereby she can see if the daily activities she has suggested have helped and whether school have followed her recommendations and funded the special equipment he needs. I have already invested in a set of “caring cutlery” to help him at meal-times:

Courtesy of completecareshop.co.uk

Whilst we continue to struggle with his gastro health, it is a huge encouragement that there is something useful that we can actively do to improve M’s school-work and performance. He is a bright and articulate child and it will be both fascinating and exciting to see how things develop over the coming months.

A new term

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September marks the start of the new school year and an opportunity to look ahead and plan for the coming months. For our household, September has seen M starting at his new school as well as a number of appointments to make and keep regarding his health. There’s been so much to deal with that, for my own sanity as well as ease of reading, I’ve spread my thoughts over a couple of blog posts.

Courtesy of carevan.org

School-wise, the start of term has gone amazingly well for both M and G, who have enjoyed meeting their new teachers and are slowly settling down into their new school routines. G was a little nervous on the first couple of days meeting her new teachers (she has 2 who job-share), but her class is the same, so she’s with her friends. It’s hard to believe that my first-born is starting in Year 5 and makes me feel old to realise that I’ve been parenting for nearly a decade.

Sadly, the continued use of Movicol meant that M wasn’t able to start back without wearing a pull-up as we had hoped. The risk of an accident during school hours and the massive negative impact this would have on him left the school and us in agreement that the pull-up was a necessary evil, and M reluctantly agreed. It has been hard to judge his real feelings about this as he has been deliberately disengaged from the decision-making, which has been no surprise at all. He just doesn’t want to face this new reality at the moment and who can blame him? His biggest fear is that his classmates might find out, but the school and I have worked alongside each other to make sure this possibility is minimised. The pull-up is hidden by his underwear – a sensible pair of trunks long enough to cover it completely – and school suggested he uses the classroom toilet to change for PE, away from prying eyes.

His sensitivity to his “different” lunch-box has been handled well by his new teacher, Miss K, who suggested a special circle time at the end of the first week to introduce his diet and health issues to the class. By the Friday, M had decided he was open to answering any questions his new friends might have and, as we expected, most of them revolved around what he could or couldn’t eat. Following that Q&A session, Miss K has also suggested that perhaps we could arrange a “tasting” session for the class, so that they can see, taste and understand some of the foods M has to eat. M loves the idea of being able to share his diet with his new friends and is drawing up a list of what to take into school as we speak.

Which will make the final cut?

School have also made allowances regarding his use of the toilets and impressed me by thinking around the matter of which toilets he would need to access. They considered what could happen if the toilet was in use when he needed to go and have given him special permission to use the Year 6 boys toilet, which is just along the corridor. They’ve also agreed that as long as the adult in charge is aware he’s dashing off to the loo, then he can forego the need to ask permission before he leaves the classroom or playground. All important when time really is of the essence.

All of this is a refreshing change for us and a real affirmation that we made the right decision in choosing to move schools. Their positive approach to working with us and with M means that we all feel a great deal more relaxed about the school day. School are keen that the day is as stress-free for M as it can be and the effect of this on M is clear, as so far we’ve had no toileting issues at school and he is the happiest we’ve seen him in a long time. They really have restored my confidence that M will be supported as he needs and the lines of communication are very much open for us all.

Well, it might be a bit more high tech than this... Courtesy of www.lifeschocolates.com

Well, it might be a bit more high tech than this…
Courtesy of http://www.lifeschocolates.com

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

7 years to diagnosis

Searching for an answer