NEAW 2017 is drawing to a close, but for those of us living with EGID the journey doesn’t stop here. Everyday will continue to involve taking a number of medicines, examining food labels, careful food preparation, monitoring symptoms and hoping that the next day will be even better. Small hiccups might become major hurdles to leap, or may pass by almost unnoticed as we breathe a sigh of relief that they didn’t become something more. Parents will continue to find last-minute solutions to unexpected activities at school, plan trips out with military precision and pull together paperwork, photos and lists of symptoms to take to the next hospital appointment. We will comfort our children whatever their battle, be their most ardent cheerleaders and be prepared to tackle anything and everything to get them the very best healthcare and support. Despite the increasing uncertainty about the EGID diagnosis, we will continue to raise awareness and, more importantly, we will never stop believing in our children.
This is the short film G and M made 2 years ago to explain EGID to their classmates. Whilst M does not have his feeding tube any more, the message is as clear now as it was then and I wanted to share it again:
This year we have decided to continue our support of the amazing charity, Over The Wall and their camps. If you’re able to donate even a very small amount, please follow this link to my Virgin Money Giving Page where your donation will help more children living with chronic illness like G and M by giving them and their families a chance to enjoy some much-needed time away from it all.
, when what they really mean is that such events have saddened or upset them rather than the total immobilisation that comes when you struggle with depression on a daily basis. I am not devaluing the emotions they may be experiencing when those things happen, but are they really akin to the overwhelming nature of depression? I think not.
I did eventually come to terms with my diagnosis, though sadly my determination to get my T1D control back on an even keel brought with it an unexpected complication with my eyes, which in turn has led to even more serious implications than I could ever have imagined when I was 13 and feeling very much on my own in a battle against the rest of the outside world.
That strong support network of family and friends who are constantly surrounding me is invaluable and the knowledge of what is really important – M and G – keeps me getting out from under the duvet every morning and making my way through each day.
is that he doesn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed by the times when he’s not able to cope emotionally, or mentally, or even physically with the pressures that his diagnoses will have on his life, and that he learns to openly acknowledge them; and that he realises that he’s not on his own in that regard.
I know that next year when M moves up to our local secondary school it will be a very different picture, but after 3 years of working with the teaching community at our junior school, and with no major changes to contend with, M was able to start in Year 6 without this over-anxious Mum hovering in the background.
but also knew that his health problems were a big part of his everyday life and couldn’t be ignored. At the end of his first week there, M’s teacher held a circle time in class where she shared about M’s ill-health and restricted diet with his classmates. It was done in such a nurturing and non-confrontational manner that by the end of the session M was willing to answer any question that his new friends had about what they had been told himself and has being doing so ever since.
The information sheets that I had provided were given to the teachers and, combined with the notes they had taken whilst talking with me, used to draw up a 
As for his swap box, it has proved to be an invaluable tool in the classroom setting and is something that is really easy to implement. The idea behind the 
happy to leave M in their more than capable hands on a daily basis. It is a testament to their dedication to their work that, in the last 3 years, the only things that have caused an extended absence from school have been the annual hospital admissions at GOSH. They have always endeavoured to make sure that M is safe whilst at school and the fact that he was able to attend as normal with both his NG feeding tube and his broken leg is incredible. A truly remarkable relationship has grown over the years between our family and so many of the teachers and is something I really value.
every class in the school. When he left his Infants school, he was a child reluctant to talk about his food allergies or hospital appointments because he was scared of being isolated and bullied because of how different he was to everyone else. These days he has an incredibly strong friendship group who look out for him during school hours and think about him when he’s had to be in hospital, and he never thinks twice to share what’s going on with his friends.
In addition to virtually every practising dietician in the UK, it is mailed directly to all senior gastroenterologists, all nutrition nurse specialists and all nutrition pharmacists, as well as lecturers, industry professionals, consultant dieticians and students.
For day 3 of 
We weren’t provided with any information about enteral feeding beforehand from the health professionals involved in M’s care and I found most of our information came from online support groups, such as PINNT and 
We’ve encouraged her to get involved as much as possible and as much as she wants, and she is now very capable of helping with his feeding pump. She’s recently started horse-riding, which is something M doesn’t do and gives me some time to spend just with her. As for our holidays, in the past we often went abroad, but didn’t feel confident enough to try it this first year with his tube. Instead we went to Cornwall this summer, with our car packed full of all the necessary medical equipment and enjoyed an amazing week away. We’re now feeling much more able to cope and are hoping to go to Portugal next summer.
*I can’t let today’s post pass without a nodding acknowledgement that it is, in fact, Shrove Tuesday; the day when many of us enjoy a pancake or two before the start of Lent. I can’t even remember whether we managed to eat pancakes last year as M had only just started to trial foods after his 8 weeks on E028, but there’s a sneaking recollection that maybe my Mum cooked some for G, whilst the rest of us ignored the day to the best of our ability. I’m excited that this year I will once again be able to cook pancakes for the whole family and, just in case you need an allergy-friendly recipe to cook for your loved one, I’ve got the perfect one 
G’s godmother shared this pain scale image with me and I love the wording that is attached to it as it sums up to a tee how M has described his levels of pain over the years. From the magical unicorn of no pain at all which happens occasionally, to the breaking point of inconsolable sobbing and unbearable pain that little can ease, I’ve seen M pass through every stage of this chart on all too regular a basis. I doubt the colours, images or facial expressions would appeal overly to him, but it helps to clearly explain how he copes to those who need to know.
A fellow 
This third one I discovered through Twitter and was posted up by @2tubies, whose 6-year old son helped make his own pain chart for the school environment with the help of the school SENCo and his Mum. They used Lego figurines to depict how he might be feeling and offered some easy solutions for his symptoms. This solution-based approach is one that I find works well with M and have started using it more and more over the years. I rarely give M the option of staying home from school when he’s feeling unwell, but will instead list out those solutions I think might ease not only his pain, but also the whirlwind of emotions that is so frequently tied into what he’s feeling on a physical level. Whilst he was still being tube-fed, I would always start with the offer to slow down or even stop his pump for a limited amount of time and then followed that up with pain relief or a hot water bottle. My final question has always been what M thinks will help him the most and given he has a clear idea of what I’m suggesting, then we have always been able to find a solution that works for us both. Whilst giving these choices verbally works well at home, I imagine that presenting them in a pictorial fashion would make great sense in the school setting.
At G’s secondary school, they have included traffic light coloured pages in the back of the pupils’ planners and the children are encouraged to use them by putting the relevant colour facing up on the desk if they need some help during a lesson, but are too worried or nervous to ask. For some children, a “traffic lights” approach using counters or cards can also be effectively used to indicate how they are feeling in any given situation, where red can indicate their sense of losing control or not coping with the environment surrounding them. The opportunity to be tactile with the counters may also help children with sensory issues order their thoughts and be more able to express them when asked. Even if the child is not able to share what’s troubling them, a clear plan of how the teacher or adult in charge should respond to each colour will change that child’s perceptions and experiences away from home. Similarly, M’s school uses a “Fist to 5” approach to their work, where fist indicates a lack of understanding and the need for some help, and 5 means they are confident and happy to carry on on their own.
12 NG-tubes and the accompanying tube changes, which included…
4 pump backpacks worn out and replaced (and number 5 will be needed soon);
Nearly 1 whole school year achieved with only a few days off;
the tube is tight enough, taped enough, in the right place enough…and not getting caught on anything
7 years to diagnosis 