Tag Archives: EGID

Everyone needs a hero

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This photo of M was taken during our stint at the London 2012 Paralympic Games last September.  It was an amazing experience for us all and one I doubt we will ever forget.  Thinking about the trials and tribulations we face on an almost daily basis, I realise that it really is true, everyone does need a hero.

I’ve yet to find out who M’s hero is, or indeed who G has found to admire, but I know my hero without question – Sir Steve Redgrave.  One of the greatest British Olympians ever, in my opinion, and what is more, he’s an individual with diabetes succeeding in his chosen field.  He may have been diagnosed over 10 years after my own diagnosis, but his determination “[from]…very early on that diabetes was going to live with me, not me live with diabetes” has always been inspirational to me.  Whilst I have never had, nor am ever likely to have, aspirations to be an Olympic athlete of any description, to know that a fellow diabetic, just like Gary Mabbutt MBE, could become a world class athlete is awe-inspiring.

I would love M to have a hero who suffers from the same condition as him, so that he can see that he can achieve anything in life that he puts his mind to.  As a parent, I believe it’s my job to help him build his dreams and see them through to fruition.  Whatever our children choose to be, I hope that Mike and I can support them as they strive to achieve their goals.

Attending the 2012 Paralympics was an opportunity for our children to see that, whatever your disability or difficulty in life, you can become an amazing sportsman (or woman!) and represent your country.  There was a refreshing honesty in walking around the Olympic park, feeling the love and support for these athletes from everyone there and being able to hold them up as potential heroes.  I loved that M and G could openly question what disabilities existed without being embarrassed or hushed for fear of offending the individual in question.  Of course, they need to learn to be tactful, but we need to learn to be honest with them.  If we show embarrassment in our approach to disability, how can the next generation learn to be open-minded?

There is no embarrassment in being a little different from your peers and M will need to learn to cope with the questions and comments that will no doubt come his way as he grows older.  He struggles with dealing with his classmates and will often want to keep quiet about his regular hospital visits, but he does carry on, against the odds.  As he hits his teen years, though not for a long time yet thank goodness, I have no doubt that he will rebel against his condition and the fact that he is different, but as long as I can see him through those turbulent times, I will feel that it’s a job well done.

And who knows, whilst we still search for an EGID hero for M to admire, perhaps he will become one in his own right one day!

Life is a roller-coaster

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Having put M’s scopes behind us, we headed into February and our next appointment at GOSH with lighter hearts. We had been reassured that Dr Hill had identified what the problem was during the surgery and that all we needed was the biopsy results to confirm the diagnosis.

Unfortunately, Mike and I were about to hit a “low” on our roller-coaster ride. The much anticipated diagnosis of Crohn’s Disease was not supported by M’s biopsy results and we left that appointment with no end in sight. There was talk of putting him onto the “Elemental diet”, which entails removing all foods for a number of months until the body has time to recover. The prospect of having to consider a nasal-gastric tube to feed M for any length of time was a tough one and one that Mike and I disagreed over. I felt that we needed to do whatever was necessary to get our boy onto the road to recovery, whereas Mike felt this was too extreme an approach and one that he wasn’t yet prepared to commit to. The registrar we saw suggested that M had some blood tests done to rule out some other possible contenders before we headed down this road and another appointment was set for a month later with M in tow once again.

Another month passed and the day before M’s birthday, we headed back to GOSH. This time Mike wasn’t able to take the day off work, so Mum accompanied M and me on our trek to the capital. We weren’t really sure about what we were trying to achieve and where we were heading. M had now been on his free-from diet for 9 months and whilst we had made progress, it wasn’t enough to satisfy us or the medical team. We were also concerned that M’s weight gain was minimal especially as his appetite had dropped off since starting his new diet and it was becoming a tough game to get him to eat.

We left GOSH with a raft of medicines to add to M’s daily diet. He was prescribed Cetirizine and Ketotifen, both anti-histamines that would help his body recover and repair from the allergic reactions he was still suffering from internally. We also needed to introduce a protein shake called Neocate Active to help him gain and maintain his weight. The biggest challenge was going to be to convince M to drink the protein shakes as they are notoriously difficult to introduce successfully to children and even our GP wished us luck as he wrote the prescription.

True to form, however, after an initially bumpy start and numerous attempts at flavouring the shake, M willingly drank his shake daily and even now, 12 months on, has been known to ask for more than one in a 24-hour stretch! The medicines proved to make a difference to how M was feeling and whilst there were no immediately obvious improvements, M seemed to understand that they would help him feel better and took them with very little fuss.

It was during this time that I became a big fan of Dr. Google.  I wasn’t looking for all the answers to all my questions, including those I hadn’t yet thought to ask, but rather needed to find information about the experiences we were going through and to know that we weren’t on our own. It is important to stress that you do have to be sensible in your approach to using on-line search engines to identify a condition. It would have been very easy to diagnose any one of a number of frightening illnesses, so a modicum of common sense had to prevail.

However, in my desire to understand why both antihistamines had been prescribed and what result we were trying to achieve, I stumbled across a list of symptoms that fitted M to a T. The Fabed website sought to educate and support families coping with something called “Eosinophilic disorders”.  I knew nothing about these conditions, having never even really heard about eosinophils and what they were, but the symptoms rang a bell and I determined to read around it until I became a home-grown expert in it.  I discovered not only Fabed, but also another website called Parentsown, which is home to a series of forums for varying conditions.  Whilst the forums are not massively active, I made contact with a couple of other parents who had children with Eosinophilic disorders and became more convinced that this was the diagnosis we were seeking with M, although the condition was going to haunt me for another 9 months before we got it confirmed as a definitive diagnosis.

When life gives you lemons…

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…make lemonade. Isn’t that how the saying goes? I have to confess to pondering this one in the early hours of this morning after being woken up by a somewhat distraught M who had just had a soiling accident whilst asleep. He woke me at 3.45am and 2 hours later, my mind was still buzzing and sleep seemed a thing from the dim and distant past. This doesn’t happen very often, but the impact is huge and it got me to thinking.

The impact of M’s condition has been massive on us all as a family and not just on M himself. To anyone who has a “sick” child, you will understand what I mean.

Mike and I have suddenly had to become medical experts in our own rights, despite our alternate careers as an accountant and surveyor, as who else is going to make sure that the best is done for M? I now know so much more about gastro conditions and food allergies than I ever anticipated needing to know. I’ve had to learn coping mechanisms, not just for M to deal with his frustration and anger at being ill, but to help us cope as well. The years of not having an answer have taken their toll and both Mike and I have had to re-learn who our little boy is and what makes him tick. I have to be his first line of defense wherever we are and I’m the one in his corner fighting his cause.

One of the hardest things about this illness is that there are no obvious outward signs that M is ill. He is a slight child and even when seriously underweight and struggling with full toilet-training, he has never lacked energy or enthusiasm for life. He may suffer with stomach cramps and joint aches that would floor most adults, but he just gets on with it. His complaints of aching limbs have been ignored for years as I was guilty of thinking of him as a “moaning” child, but now I know that those aches are very real and extremely uncomfortable whilst they last. He has been living the last 7 years with these as his normal, so he only stops when he’s suffering extreme moments of pain. He had then, and continues to have, the most amazing stamina and a reserve of energy that I can only envy. He is constantly on the go and has never let his health problems slow him down. In very many ways, this is his greatest strength, but also the biggest problem for us.

The lack of obvious evidence of his poor health means that people just don’t understand that he is ill and look at me in disbelief when I explain just how poorly he can be and, to be perfectly honest, I don’t blame them at all. He doesn’t look like a child who eats fresh air and frequently manages on less than 8 hours sleep a night; but he is.

I don’t think that Mike will mind me sharing that he has struggled to come to terms with M’s condition. I have an advantage in that I have grown up living with my own T1 diabetes. I know that these things can be survived and have just got on with it. Mike has found it harder and has longed for an easier fix than the road we seem to be travelling down at the moment. Of course, we now have a diagnosis and that has helped us all. Being able to put a name to the condition, even though it’s so rare that no-one ever seems to have heard of it, means that our fight has not been in vain and we can no longer be dismissed as fussy parents. This is M’s life for now and for the foreseeable future, and as his parents, our job is to ensure that he learns how to make the best of a bad situation.

M has struggled too, as you would expect and his levels of frustration at times are massive. Not only is he restricted by what he can eat and how his body reacts, but he also has to deal with the knock-on consequences. It is no longer possible for him to go home for tea with his friends, attend birthday parties, participate in cooking at school or even have a Christmas or Easter treat, without me having to provide a detailed list of what he can and can’t eat and the inevitable 20 minute discussion with the adult in charge about his condition. We encourage him to have a go at whatever he wants and refuse to let his condition dictate who he is or how he lives his life; and a big thank you has to go to my parents who brought me up with that very same approach to T1D and my life.

He acts out – he kicks and hits and shouts and bites – and sadly the people who have to survive the mood swings are us and G. G has had a hard role to play as the big sister to a poorly child. She worries about his health and I know struggles when we have to disappear off to London for the day for his hospital check-ups. But, she is also a child and has her own challenges to deal with. My children are the best of friends and would defend each other to the end; but are also the worst of enemies. It has become extremely important for us to invest as much time in G as we can and the last couple of months have enabled us to do just that far more than before. She recently took part in a music event organised by the local authority music education department and her clarinet skills were considered good enough to allow her to play with the wind band. This was something just for her and she loved every moment.

She has also been invited to join the local swimming club and that is something we are keen to encourage her to do. There was a point when we wondered a couple of years ago if she’d ever learn to swim, but she is now excelling at it and her teacher invited her to join the Club to see how she gets on. It’s an additional time commitment on a weekly basis for us as she will need to attend at least 1 extra training session a week as well as competitions, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m proud of both my children – M for his stoicism in dealing with his condition and making the most of life; and G for her continued hard work at school and at her after-school clubs. She may not like the fact that M misses school regularly to attend hospital appointments, but she admits that she wouldn’t want to have the blood tests and diet that he has. Neither child has an easy cross to bear right now, but I hope Mike and I manage to get it right enough to see them successfully and happily through to adulthood.