Tag Archives: friends

What we’ve learned from Rio 2016

2cfc75d26f32e6608791a5263d92e52b-rio-2016-olympic-logo-vectorBack in 2012, we spent hours glued to our TV screen as London hosted the Olympic and Paralympic games. We were lucky enough to be able to take the children to see some of the sports at both events and I reflected then on the need for EGID and food allergy heroes to help inspire G and M to be the very best they can be without letting their health issues get in the way of their dreams. Four years on and it’s the 2016 Olympics in the much more exotic, though sometimes equally wet, location of Rio and our family is just as absorbed in watching as much as we can, even with the added challenge of the time difference to negotiate. I have enjoyed seeing the children cheering their favourites on, but even more I have loved the emerging stories of some of those competitors which have really struck a resounding chord with me. We are not surprised by the tales of amazing fortitude that are revealed during the Paralympics, but these are individuals who have beaten the odds and are competing at the highest level against fellow athletes who do not have to battle against health challenges in the Olympics.

SMOCOur first inspirational athlete is British swimmer, Siobhan-Marie O’Connor, who won silver in the 200m individual medley at the Rio games. Not only did she win a silver medal, but she also broke the British record and all that whilst living with the effects of Ulcerative Colitis on her body. Siobhan-Marie was diagnosed with this inflammatory bowel disease following London 2012 and that diagnosis has resulted in the right medication and improved health helping her to succeed in her training and getting her to the Olympics this year. This has a particular resonance for me as UC is not dissimilar to M’s Eosinophilic Colitis as it causes inflammation to the colon, although with UC tiny ulcers develop on the lining of the rectum and the colon as well. To push her body beyond the pain and fatigue that I know will be plaguing her during flares in order to achieve excellence in her sport requires a determination and positivity that is truly remarkable.

AMHaving read about Siobhan-Marie’s success whilst living with Ulcerative Colitis, I thought I had found a potential candidate for a role model for both M and G; and then I saw an article about the Italian fencer, Aldo Montano, who is living with a severe and potentially life-threatening dairy allergy. Aldo was diagnosed with this allergy as a baby and has learned to adapt to his environment and to make food choices that will keep him healthy and keep anaphylaxis at bay. His lifestyle as an athlete does not, perhaps, easily lend itself to living with an allergy, but Aldo is clear that he does not let this allergy define him “…It is easy to get scared. I understand the fear of not trusting anyone and not wanting to eat anywhere other than at home. But I have had to figure it out — because my life choice is to compete and I have to travel…” I don’t know that either child will ever aspire to be Olympic fencing champions, but if they can adopt Aldo’s attitude that “…my secret is the same as Superman’s: stay away from kryptonite. If I stay clear of dairy, I am super strong. My secret is to stay away from it, and be positive…” then I am certain they will see success in their chosen field.

These are not the only amazing stories of these games, but they are both inspirations to our family in particular and there are so many other athletes who have overcome struggles that make their achievement in reaching Rio all the more sweet too such as British gold-medal diver, Chris Mears, who has beaten unbelievable problems to become a British record-maker in 2016. There have also been those who have suffered shocking accidents in pursuit of their dreams whilst there and are already on the road to recovery and focusing on their next goal; Dutch cyclist Van Vluten comes to mind. As for what we’ve learned from Rio 2016, well really it’s simple: that focus, determination and a desire to succeed can beat physical injury and serious health problems every time, so don’t let your chronic illness define who you are or dictate what you can become.

Best. Week. Ever.

Back at the end of March, G was lucky enough to attend the amazing Over The Wall sibling camp and had the experience of a lifetime. I knew just how much of a success that week away from home had been almost the minute she stepped off the bus as she asked with fervour if we could apply for her to go again next year. The last few weeks have been filled with a mix of emotions as M was thrilled to learn that he had been offered a place on the OTW Health Challenges camp this August, but the ongoing drama with his broken leg left us questioning whether he’d actually be able to go (of course he would, it’s a camp for kids with health challenges after all), and take part  (well as best as his leg and determination would allow), and get from it as much as his sister had (we could only hope). Fortunately, the final fracture clinic appointment that saw M being given the all-clear and discharged from the care of the orthopaedic team fell on the Friday before IMG_0791[1]he was due to head off to camp on the Monday and the assurance of the consultant that his leg was at long last fully healed gave M the confidence he needed that he could fully participate in all the activities on offer during the week.

It was a major event in our household. It’s the first time that M has been able to go away from home without being with family; he’s never even had a sleepover because of his bowel problems and sleep issues and so it was unsurprising that our car journey to Dorset was eerily quiet as he struggled to get his anxieties under some semblance of control. It was a very pensive boy who clung to my hand as we found our way to the welcome desk to sign him in, although by the time I left around 2 hours later, with medicines handed over to the Beach Hut medical team and clothes unpacked and safely put away, he was starting to warm a little to his surroundings and had already enjoyed a hysterical couple of games of Guess Who? with 2 of the volunteers. Seeing the other children chatting and laughing as they arrived on-site, it was easy, even for me, to forget that these are children living with serious illnesses. Illnesses which are sometimes life-limiting and are always life-impacting. My child was one of them. IMG_0792[1]And when M commented on how comfortable his bed was compared to the ones in hospital I could see the volunteers in the room with us, both of whom were new this year, take a deep breath, unexpectedly shaken just a little by this vivid reminder that every child there is facing a chronic illness that is not always obvious at first glance. I was not immune to the pathos of that situation and my heart broke a little that this was his first thought, his opening response to this new experience.

Knowing he was settled and in safe hands meant that I could leave the site almost without a backwards glance. I could see he was torn between wanting to give me a hug and kiss goodbye and not wanting to show affection in front of his new room-mates, so I offered a quick hug and a kiss on the head before heading back to my car, not giving him opportunity to wobble. Despite concerns to the contrary from other people, this Mummy was fine with leaving her boy there because I had absolute confidence that they would take care of him and support him and make sure he had a week where the medical implications of his everyday world were not at the forefront of his mind. The lack of communication during the week could easily have worried me senseless, but instead I knew that it really was a case of “no news is good news” as camp would only get in touch if things were going wrong. I was also confident that they were more than able to meet his dietary requirements and would make the effort to give him meals that were more than just simple rice and chicken. Not long after the end of G’s sibling camp, I menuhad been sent a draft menu for M that one of the camp chefs had devised based on his safe foods at the time and we were all drooling at the sound of some of the dishes. In the 2 weeks leading up to camp, OTW contacted me again to check whether there had been any changes to his diet and to reassure me that they were prepared for the challenge of feeding him whilst he was there.

I can’t even begin to describe how I felt when I picked him up the following Saturday. G joined me for the drive to Dorset and was able to share so many precious memories of her own as we went through the gates and along the drive towards the house. We pulled up to the grassed area which was ablaze with colour as the various groups gathered to wave goodbye to all the campers as they started their journey home. M was the last Orange Boy standing and the farewell given to him by the team volunteers saw more than one of us with tears in our eyes. Seeing this group of wonderful adults, who had become his family for the week, surround him and sing “M, we love you, deep down in our hearts…deep down….” to him with genuine affection brought a definite lump to my throat, not least because M was equally overcome by his emotions and obviously struggling not to give into them in public.

IMG_0812[1]As they lined up outside the car and waved us off, the atmosphere inside was in stark contrast to when we arrived as M sat smiling bravely, with tears rolling down his cheeks because he wasn’t ready to leave camp and go back home. He was emotionally and physically exhausted, but refused to let sleep overcome him, instead spending the entirety of our homeward journey sharing every tiny aspect of the week he’d just enjoyed. As M told us about camp, he was worried that he would hurt my feelings when he said that the chef cooked some delicious meals that were, in the most part, “..even better than yours Mummy!”, but I didn’t mind a bit. His close new friendship with one of the other boys in his team, who also had food allergies, meant that neither of them felt isolated as they sat next to each other as their food was served at each meal. And my heart swelled when he said he hadn’t really missed us or thought of us that much because he had been having such a good time as I understand that that was so much more than I could ever have wanted for his first experience away from home.

It’s hard to encapsulate just why this week was such a significant one for M, but it really has been an incredible and life-changing experience. For once he felt normal and not the exception in the group, and that alone is priceless to me.  M’s confidence has soared as he pushed himself, and his body, to the limit and tried new activities that would have scared him before and his honesty impressed me as he relayed just how terrifying some of those new experiences had been until he had a go and conquered those fears. He has developed more independence and an even greater awareness of other people that reflects more maturity than he had before. Yesterday he took responsibility for making his own breakfast and even asked G and me what we wanted to eat so he could make our breakfasts too. That may seem like nothing much, but for a child where the world really has revolved around his needs over the last decade, it was a huge shift in attitude.

My words cannot do justice to the time he had at OTW camp, but I know how fantastic it was as he is already asking if he can go back again – not just next year, but every year until he’s too old to be a camper any more. What’s more, his aim is to become a volunteer at camp eventually if he can. M expressed it best when he told me it had been the Best. Week. Ever.

 

M’s happy ending

M had been anxiously counting down, fretting that the day might never come, but finally it arrived with just over a week to go until the end of term and I had left him at school that morning absolutely buzzing with excitement about everything planned for the day. It had been marked as an important day ever since his last fracture clinic appointment 3 weeks before, which you may remember showed that the break was not mending as quickly as the orthopaedic consultants would have liked and left M sporting his rather snazzy sarmiento cast for a few more weeks. IMG_0506[1]During that unexpected extra time, M had really made the effort to use his leg even more and became scarily fast and adept at using his crutches in every situation. The last week saw even more development as he more or less abandoned his crutches at home and finally started putting his full weight on his left leg. All this to ensure that that cast would well and truly be removed that afternoon and be needed no more.

Our afternoon started with a DEXA scan at the rheumatology department of our local hospital to assess M’s bone density. The severity of both this break and his previous broken arm alongside the longer than anticipated recovery time had rung a few alarm bells for his gastro team and they wanted to check that his restricted diet and years of malabsorption issues hadn’t had a detrimental effect on his bones. Although the blood tests done during his December admission at GOSH had suggested his calcium levels were fine, this additional test would give us a clear picture of his bones and hopefully put our minds at rest. I had been warned that M would need to lie still for up to 45 minutes, something I doubted would be do-able without a lot of persuasion, by which, of course, I mean bribery, but he promised to try his hardest as he realised how important it was to get these results. Fortunately, the scan itself actually took less than 10 minutes to complete and whilst M did have to lie very still, he closed his eyes and tried to relax as the bed and scanner arm twisted and turned around him to take images from all the necessary angles.

DEXA scan over, we had just enough time to walk across to the outpatients department for his fracture clinic appointment. With our timing near on perfect, it was almost straight into the x-ray suite, where M chatted away with the radiographer as if he was an old friend and went through all the motions to get the perfect set of pictures of the fracture site. From there, it was straight into clinic and minutes later into the plaster room to have his sarmiento cast removed. Ear defenders were quickly put into place before the saw was started and M’s expressive face reflected his nerves and the mild discomfort as the plaster technician cut through the cast and the vibrations disturbed his sensitive leg. The front half was removed and trimmed as M wanted to bring it home as a memento of the last 6 weeks and I flat-out refused to bring home the back half, covered as it was with layers of dirt, sweat and oodles of dead skin.

IMG_0777[1]M and I sat waiting for the orthopaedic consultant to look at his x-rays before giving us his opinion, so I tentatively peeled back the tubigrip stocking that had been the only barrier between his leg and the plaster for the last 3 months. His left leg was a little skinnier than his right, though not as much as we had feared it might be, but was also incredibly hairy, something we hadn’t anticipated at all. A little research told us that when a cast is in place for an extended period, it causes constant irritation of the skin and so the hair grows to form a protective layer between the skin and the plaster cast. It was a completely unexpected insight into what M might look like when he eventually hits those dreaded teen years and puberty – and he really wasn’t impressed! In stark contrast to his skinny, white and very hairy leg, M’s foot was almost orange in colour and as scaly as his bearded dragon thanks to 13 weeks of no washing and hot weather. I snapped a quick photo to show it to M and the entire fracture clinic must have wondered what was going on as he and I dissolved into fits of giggles as we tried to decide the best way to remove layer after layer of the dead, scaly skin. For the first time ever, M couldn’t wait to get home and jump into the bath and he stayed in it for a long time that evening in an attempt to remove both dry skin and hair.

IMG_0783[1]We were sent home with a walking boot and crutches to help ease him back into the routine of walking and exercising without his leg in a cast and within 3 weeks both had been abandoned to one side. We’ve been back for our final fracture clinic, where M was discharged with a clean bill of health and permission from the consultant to participate in as many of the activities as he wants at next week’s activity camp. Unbelievably there is no physiotherapy available for M through the NHS, but we have an excellent private physio in a nearby town and M will have a couple of sessions there to get him well on the road to recovery. He is having to learn to pace himself, something my hyperactive 10 year-old is not very good at doing, but the aching leg that results from a couple of hours running around our garden with G is a harsh reminder that his leg won’t just bounce back to where it was at the start of the year. It will take a few months to recover the strength, muscle tone and mobility that M is used to, but some hard work and focus will get him there in the end.

Most importantly, M got the happy ending he’d been hoping for since that miserable day in April. He was able to spend his last week of Year 5 back in school without crutches and even had some time back outside in the playground with his peers. And nothing will beat the absolute joy I felt as I watched him disappear from the classroom surrounded by his supportive friends on the last day of term.

Wanted: One Job

When this week started, I was expecting the usual end of term mayhem for both children as we gradually wound down towards the summer holidays and close to 6 weeks off school. The holiday child entertainment plans were falling into place with activity weeks, Over The Wall, pony camp and drama school booked to keep them occupied whilst Mike and I put in our hours at work. I had been in touch with Easyjet about our flights to and from Portugal and was well into the process of making sure we can take with us everything we might conceivably need to feed both M and G whilst on our holiday.

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What I didn’t expect was to be looking for a new job.

This week has disappeared into a wild roller-coaster of raging emotions, sleepless nights and a flurry of internet searches, e-mails and phone-calls to recruitment agents, accountancy friends and old contacts to see what leads they might have for me to follow; and I’ve not been able to slow it down enough to get off the ride. When I was told on Monday that I was being made redundant with immediate effect, I was shell-shocked to say the least. Left numb and reeling by the impact this news would have on our summer, but, as the week has progressed, my emotions have broken through the surface and have vacillated between barely veiled anger at my ex-employers, a sense of depression that threatened to overcome everything else and complete disbelief that it wasn’t just a dream.

My post as a senior accountant has disappeared due to a massive change in the personal circumstances of my most recent employers, something we were only told about a month ago. At the time my concerns were whether this change would impact on our work, but was told that nothing would happen for another 6-8 months as they worked out what to do with the business and the client base. I am angry that little more than 3 weeks on from that conversation, I’ve had to deal with the further fall-out and the unwelcome revelation of redundancy without any real warning. I’ll be honest, I had started a little tentative searching to see what was out there as the atmosphere in our office had become tense and untenable, but I truly believed that I had a little more time on my side, time that would allow me to make the decision to move on once again and find the right post for me and the family.

Drawing on the strength that has defined me as an EGID Mum, I’ve got up every morning to get the kids washed, dressed and to school on time, even though all I’ve wanted to do is stay hidden beneath my duvet and avoid the real world. I’ve spent hours in front of my computer screen every day, fine-tuning my CV, searching for available practice and industry roles in the surrounding area and retyping my information time after time after time to complete applications and establish an on-line presence in the recruitment world; before finishing the days too worn out to do anything more than watch mindless TV before collapsing into bed. I’ve taken endless phone-calls from eager recruiters, who are desperate to place an individual with my skill set and have learned to be firm about the type of role I’m looking for and where I’m willing to compromise on my requirements.

Mike and I have taken the decision to keep the news from both M and G at the moment as they need to be able to enjoy their summer without the worry of Mummy being out of work overshadowing their holiday fun. I’ve smiled and chatted and engaged in the classroom and at the school gates, celebrating the end of year excitement alongside the children. I’ve taken M to his first physio session and watched with joy as he finally starts to regain his confidence and is working to rebuild the strength and mobility of his leg, and I’ve joined in and encouraged their plans for their adventures over the next few weeks.

I’m working hard at staying positive. I know that my accountancy skills will stand me in good stead and the fact that I already have 2 interviews set up for next week, with a possible 3rd in the works too, shows me that hopefully I won’t be without work for too long. But, my biggest decision has to be about the direction I follow next with my career. I can, in all likelihood, pick up another part-time job in an accountancy practice without too much trouble, which would be the easy thing to do, but this could be an unexpected chance to make a change. I don’t love working in practice. I’ve been happiest working in industry and that’s what I ideally want to go back to. I want to use not just my accountancy background, but the business acumen I’ve picked up along the way. I am re-assessing the type of company I work for, knowing that the last couple of years have seen a real passion growing for charity work as well as my blog and the allergy world. I have loved all of the opportunities that have opened up with events like the Free From Food Awards and the Allergy Show, and the amazing friendships that have grown through those events. I have an idea for something that I’m sure would be a success if I could just work out how to get it into production, but I need a steady income to allow me to investigate whether it is a real business possibility or not.

At the end of the day, I’m an out-of-work accountant, a dedicated Mum and an enthusiastic blogger and I just want a job that allows me to put that all together in one winning combination.

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Allergy and FreeFrom Show 2016

I am so glad that we made the decision to visit last weekend’s Allergy and Freefrom Show at Olympia London as we had the most amazing day and made some great finds. The show has always been one of those lovely experiences for the children, where they have been able to try so many of the foods and drinks on offer, although we have constantly had to remind them that they can’t assume that everything is safe, even though so many of the offerings are. IMG_0645[1]This year was no different and G ate her way around the show, delighted to try some old favourites as well as the new products that we hadn’t seen before. It was understandably a much harder show for M this time than ever before, but he pinpointed on the map which stalls he wanted to visit and was thrilled that we managed to find some great new food options for him too. I am also extremely glad that we chose to take the wheelchair with us as it proved to be useful, not just for helping M negotiate the crowds flocking round each stall, but also as a receptacle for the numerous bags of goodies we gained during the day.

The day was also a great chance to catch up with some old friends from the blogosphere and allergy community, though this year I didn’t manage to make the bloggers meet-up arranged for the Saturday morningIMG_0647[1]. It was fantastic to see G and M recognised and welcomed by so many of these lovely individuals and they happily chatted away almost as much as Mike and I did. We spent some time at the Allergy Adventures stand, where Hailey and her crew of cheerful helpers were once again providing entertainment for the children in the guise of paper crafts and story-telling time, although they couldn’t persuade G and M to make the paper lollipops planned. Instead my pair went off-piste and created an array of paper lizard heads (M) and chatterboxes (G) to fill their time, some of which I think were left behind and not just stuffed into pockets and down the sides of the wheelchair.

Between us, we came home with a huge selection of new products for both children to try and I can’t wait to share their reviews of these foods with you, especially those that are not just new to us, but to the market too. We spent the entire day at Olympia, getting in when the doors opened at 10am and leaving as the tannoy announced that the Show was closed at 5pm  and I could quite easily have spent another day IMG_0651[1]discovering all those hidden gems that were tucked away in remote corners of the space. We had taken some safe food for M with us for his lunch as we just didn’t know what would be available at the site and G enjoyed a gluten- and dairy-free pizza from Schar that was cooked to order. The Show now visits 3 UK locations during the year – London, Liverpool and Glasgow – and I would highly recommend a visit if you get a chance to go. It is a brilliant day out for anyone living with food allergies and offers the opportunity to discover so many safe alternatives that often don’t make it to the High Street.

All the Fun of the Fair

There’s no doubt that the weeks since April have dragged past at snail’s pace for a certain young man and his broken leg. 10 weeks into having that leg encased in plaster, and all of M’s hopes were pinned on the sarmiento cast finally being removed and allowing what must now be a skinny, white limb see some summer sun and fresh air. Unfortunately, the last fracture clinic appointment did not go according to M’s plan and the x-rays showed that the bone regrowth had slowed down and was not at the level the orthopaedic consultants were expecting it to be after over 2 months in a cast. The news that he has to survive another 3 weeks of limited mobility was not well-received and, having seen him stoically accept the verdict before crumbling once we left the unit, it was a massively disappointed and heartbroken little boy Mike and I had to take back home. The next 30 hours or so saw him at a lower point than we’ve experienced for a long time and it was only thanks to his sense of commitment and phenomenal strength to keep fighting the fight that we managed to convince him to go to his school’s summer music concert that evening, where he disguised his emotions well and took part on his cello and in the choir with reasonable gusto.

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What we needed was something to cheer him up and fortunately that something was already pencilled in on our calendar for that very weekend. It might not have looked too promising during Stagecoach on the Friday night as M broke down in tears about not being able to dance with everyone else, but thanks to much encouragement and enthusiasm from his big sister as well as a determined spirit that won’t be kept down, by early Saturday morning, things were looking a lot brighter and it looked like we had weathered yet another health storm.

The reason? The song and dance routine that their Stagecoach school were going to be performing as part of our local carnival’s parade and a huge serving of 70s disco to boot. We had always planned for M to be part of the parade in his wheelchair, knowing that the mile and a half long route would be too much for a newly healed leg.

IMG_0502[1]The preceding weeks had been busy with costume preparations and plans to pimp his wheelchair for the event and his decision to ask for a 70s themed cast at the previous fracture clinic meant that we were all set for the parade. Mike and I had also been roped in to help out for the day and I had even managed a few tweaks to our own clothes to make sure we were part of the 70s disco theme. All of the children were fantastic as they sang and danced their way towards the town’s football club and entertained the crowds, who joined in with the familiar moves of “Night Fever” and “Tragedy”. I was particularly proud of G, whose hard work and dedication to her dance saw her selected to be one of the 2 dance captains and she led the group with a flair and sense of fun that I rarely see from her when she’s performing. She really stepped up to the mark and the smile on her face showed just how much she enjoyed it.

And M enjoyed himself too, despite his insistence he wouldn’t. He and I showed off our moves as we grooved our way down the High Street and he waved right and left as friends called out and cheered our group as we went past. Of course the disappointment of not being able to participate as fully as he would have liked was still there, but he was caught up in the excitement of the day and really did enjoy all the fun of the fair!

 

And the money kept rolling in…

Every year when National Eosinophil Awareness Week rolls around, we start thinking about how we’re going to raise more awareness about EGID, particularly in the public eye. During that first year, our focus was all about our awareness as a family and understanding more about how his diagnosis with this rare condition was impacting on M’s everyday life. As time has passed, we’ve looked for different ways to spread the word, reaching out into the wider community and have found that our efforts have naturally evolved to encompass an element of fundraising as well. Whilst the focus of NEAW is rightly about otwmaking sure more people know about this condition and what it means to be living with it, and donations of time are as valuable, if not more so than those of money, we know that any money we can raise will make a difference to the charities we choose to support.

This year we wanted to show our appreciation for the amazing work done by Over The Wall in running camps for children with serious health challenges, their siblings and their families. The truly fantastic week away that G enjoyed at Easter made an incredible difference to her, perhaps even more than we realised at the time. During a recent conversation with G and M about the Allergy UK Hero awards, we got to discussing the reasons why we might nominate each other for an award. To my surprise G stated that my efforts at finding out about and then sorting out her week away at camp was the best example of how I had made a significant difference to her life as an allergy-sufferer and sibling to a chronically ill child. That comment, for me, sums up just how significant the opportunity to have time away from the stresses and strains of life at home with M and to just be a child really was to her.

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During May, I started to document how our fundraising efforts were going and the different opportunities I had found to raise even more for our chosen charity. We had fantastic support from M’s school, who helped him raise an incredible £81 for OTW and through stalls at local community events and generous friends and family members, we raised another £172. Even better, we still have two fundraising plans in the pipeline, both of which came as something of a surprise to me, albeit a wonderful one. The first came when we were part-way through NEAW16, when I received an unexpected phone-call from the Head of Year 7 at G’s secondary school. Thanks to the continued support from our local press and a well-timed article in the local paper, she had a proposition that overwhelmed me and almost rendered me speechless. Year 7 had an enrichment week coming up after May half-term and, as a lead-in to their week of activities, the year group would be having a non-uniform day on the previous Friday. Her suggestion was that the school would use the day to help us raise awareness of EGID and that the money collected on the day itself would be donated to OTW. indexThe reasoning behind this plan was simple and easy to understand: G and M. They wanted to show support to G as one of their own and, knowing how much she had benefitted from her week away and recognising her commitment to supporting M during NEAW, believed that this was the perfect opportunity to do it.

I was more than happy to agree to this proposal and G was soon on board too. She was asked to write a small piece about EGID, NEAW and OTW that would be shared during tutor time on the Friday morning and each tutor was asked to show their group the short film G and M had created for the week. A well-researched, well-written and fully comprehensive letter was sent out by the school to all families explaining EGID and the charity that the money given on the day would be going to.

This week a cheque was presented to G during the weekly Year 7 assembly for an amazing £280, or thereabouts. The Year 7 Head told me that there were several donations made that exceeded the suggested £1 because the funds are going to a charity that have already helped G and M – something I can’t thank my fellow parents for enough. This money will make a difference to Over The Wall and it’s great to feel that we’re giving a little back. It means that so far we’ve raised an astonishing £530, or thereabouts, which covers half the cost for a child to attend the OTW sibling camp. I don’t know what our final fundraising total for this year will be as there is still one event left to go in August, but I’m glad that we have been able to make such a success of our efforts so far.otw

Recognising Allergy Heroes

MzQ1QzM3M0E4MzFCNjM4QjYzMUY6YWUxNzkyMGNiZWRkMjJhNGIyYWI2YTNlNDZiNGJjODM6Ojo6OjA=Whilst we’ve been settling back into life at home after our amazing Italian break, it hasn’t escaped my notice that in the last couple of weeks there have been 2 sets of awards launched – both relating to allergies and both looking at vastly different aspects of the allergy world. One is celebrating people who support allergy-sufferers, be it in a professional capacity or a more supporting role at home, and the other looking for restaurants who go that extra mile to make meals out an option when living with food allergies. The one thing they’ve got in common is that they’re both looking to give recognition to those individuals and organisations whose tireless work makes a difference to those living with allergies and to celebrate their efforts. To make sure I focus equally on both awards as they are both incredibly important in my opinion, today’s post will look at just one set of awards and the other I’ll discuss in my next blog post.

Allergy UK Hero Awardshero-awards-(logo)_cropped_200_165 – this year marks 25 years since Allergy UK came into being as a national charity that is now thought to support around 21 million allergy sufferers across the UK. Not only do they provide a comprehensive support network including a dedicated help line and on-line forum, but they also endeavour to educate those health professionals who work with patients living with allergic conditions. To help celebrate this anniversary in style, Allergy UK has asked for nominations for their Hero Awards, which will recognise the efforts of individuals to help, support and encourage friends, family members and any in their local community who are living with allergies.

There are 5 different award categories to choose between and nominations must be made before 1st July 2016:

  • Child Allergy Hero – a child or teenager (up to the age of 18) who has had the courage to help or has saved the life of an allergy sufferer
  • Family/Friend Allergy Hero – a family member or friend (over the age of 18) that has shown courage and commitment to their allergic child/parent/carer/sibling/other
  • Community Allergy Hero – an individual who has gone beyond the call of duty and has helped, improved or saved a life of someone with allergy in their community
  • Healthcare Professional Allergy Hero – a member of the healthcare profession who helps and manages the allergic patient’s condition and who provides on-going care with commitment, compassion and communication
  • Clinical Team Allergy Heroes – a team of clinicians who have shown care, compassion, communication and commitment to help their allergic patients

awardI am delighted to see that the awards are open to just about anyone and not restricted to healthcare professionals. All too often the unsung heroes are the family members and friends who live with allergy sufferers and the ups and downs that life with allergies throws at them on a regular basis. To be able to give much-deserved recognition to these people is fantastic, although it’s good to also have the opportunity to nominate anyone from the medical community who has provided truly exceptional and perhaps personal care. I will be making my own nominations soon and would urge you to do the same if you feel there’s someone out there who has made a real difference to others living with allergies. The allergy world is often surprisingly small and tight-knit, so I’m looking forward to seeing if any familiar faces have been recognised for all that they do for those of us trying to survive the presence of allergies in our everyday lives.

To vote, please click on this link to the Allergy UK website. It’ll only take 10 minutes of your time and could give a real boost to an unsung allergy hero.

So, how is your leg now?

“Still broken!”

That question has been directed a lot at both M and me over the last couple of weeks and yes, I’m afraid that is the answer we’ve almost flippantly begun to give in reply. As we head into our 8th week of a left leg in plaster, the initial pain and shock that gradually gave way to the novelty of the cast has all but disappeared and we are now well and truly into the “fed-up of it all and ready to move on” stage of his recuperation. M has borne the last 8 weeks with the fortitude and strength of spirit that we have come to expect of our youngest. They haven’t been the easiest, but he continues to persevere at finding the best in any given situation and whilst there has been the inevitable tears of frustration and angst, there have also been moments full of laughter and jokes and M’s unparalleled sense of humour. IMG_0308[1]With hopefully only another 2 weeks or so to go until the leg might finally reappear from underneath the protective plaster, I thought it about time I give you all a proper update.

After 10 days in the plain white, full-length, backslab cast with squishy top, M was upgraded to a lightweight, rock-hard, full-length cast in camouflage just as he had decided on that very first night in our local A&E. Fortunately, the green camouflage plaster ran out after img_03921M’s leg was finished, rather than before, although that day’s orthopaedic technician did offer him the alternative of pink camouflage with sparkles whilst she was checking that stock levels were enough to cover his entire leg. 6 weeks later, and following regular fortnightly fracture clinic appointments with x-rays, the bone growth was considered enough to move M to a sarmiento cast – something we’d never heard of and instantly googled the moment it was first mentioned to us. This cast reaches up over M’s knee at the front, but below it at the back, enabling him to freely bend his leg without allowing it to twist. This is particularly important for M as he has a spiral fracture of his tibia, which needs time to fully heal correctly. Upon hearing his newest cast would need to be in place for at least 4 weeks,IMG_0479[1] M requested a “70s Disco” theme for reasons that will later become clear, and believe me when I say that the bright orange and neon yellow stripes with added silver glitter certainly meets his somewhat unusual brief.

From a medical viewpoint, the fracture is mending well and in the latest set of x-rays we could clearly see the new bone growth that has formed. The latest orthopaedic consultant was fantastic and not only explained what was going on, but pointed it all out on the x-ray for M and me to see too, which meant that we both had a clear understanding of what he was talking about. M’s GOSH consultant and dietician have raised a concern over M’s bone density and health given the severity of this break and his previously broken arm, and have requested that a DEXA scan is carried out at our local hospital to check that all is as it should be. We are very much aware that the delay in reaching a diagnosis, the initial concerns about malabsorption issues during his early years and the subsequent increasing restrictions to his diet could have compromised the levels of both calcium and vitamin D in his bones. Hopefully this scan will reveal the current situation and indicate what additional steps should now be followed to improve his bone health.

Unsurprisingly, the shock of the break on his body caused an unwelcome flare of his EGID at the most inconvenient of times and the combination of flare and his necessary immobility meant that we took some massive steps backwards in terms of his general and bowel health in those first few weeks following the accident. As a result of this, all food challenges have had to be put on hold for the foreseeable future until we can regain the status quo we had worked so hard to achieve in the last few months. Coming so soon after we had finally recovered from the challenges of his December GOSH admission, this has been something of a bitter pill to swallow for us all, but M remains upbeat about the situation and continues to plan his upcoming hit-list of possible food contenders with gusto. This relapse has reminded us of just how precarious the balance is when it comes to M’s health and just how easily he can be tipped into a downwards spiral.

Naturally, the hardest impact of a broken leg has been the inability to move around freely, which for my very active lad has been absolute torture. Progress has been slow, but M has worked hard at each level meaning that he is finally beginning to master the set of crutches he was given when his cast was changed to a sarmiento one. The first 2 or 3 weeks saw M use almost exclusively a wheelchair to get from place to place, something that was only possible thanks to the British Red Cross, who lend wheelchairs on a 6-week basis for a small voluntary donation. This is an invaluable service, especially as the hospital wasn’t able to give us one and it has made going to school so much easier than it might otherwise have been. We quickly introduced a walker – think miniature Zimmer frame – to him too and the ability to use his walker to travel short distances as well as climb up and down stairs was key to his discharge from our local hospital after the break. Once the initial anxiety about re-hurting his leg disappeared, M has adapted to his one-leg status remarkably well and can move at astonishing speeds both on his walker and shuffling along on his bottom when the occasion demands. IMG_0506[1]The crutches have taken longer to adjust to, not least because M now needs to start putting some weight on to his leg, something he has been very reluctant to do. We finally seem to be breaking through that last mental barrier as he builds his confidence by beginning to stand unaided, though his walker is always close on hand should he need it.

Poor M has been forced to miss out on a number of activities as a result of his leg, though whenever possible, we have worked hard to involve him as much as we can. The first and biggest disappointment was that he was unable to act in a touring stage production at a regional theatre, something he loves to do and had been looking forward to for weeks. However, never one to let life get him down for too long, M insisted on going to watch the play instead as some of his friends were also involved and the production company kindly arranged for him to meet some of the other cast members following the performance. He did spend a lot of time talking about what he should have been doing, but his love for the theatre and the strength of his friendships saw him enjoy the afternoon regardless.

He also had to cope with his school’s Health and Fitness Week, where lessons are more or less put on hold whilst a number of visiting instructors as well as the staff introduce each class to a number of new sports activities. M was nominated “class photographer” and enjoyed spending his time cheering his friends on as well as capturing the week on film. His favourite activity turned out to be wheelchair basketball, booked months before but ironically apt for him and he has expressed an interest to training with the wheelchair basketball squad – once his leg is better! The end of that week culminated with school sports day and sadly, despite refusing to let his tube stop him participating last year, M’s leg made it impossible this. However, his fantastic school made sure he didn’t feel left out and he took charge of ringing the bell between events as well as announcing the scores throughout the morning. I am so grateful yet again that we have such an amazing school that has supported us all through the ups and downs of M’s 3 years with them. IMG_0439[1]He has not missed a single day of school due to his broken leg, other than for necessary appointments and that is due to the willingness of the Headteacher and his teaching team to accommodate M’s needs in a safe way and involve him in the classroom as best they can.

Nor has being confined to a wheelchair stopped M’s extra-curricular activities, even if it might have limited them somewhat. He has continued with his weekly cello lessons at school, again thanks to a fantastic music teacher who has worked around his worries and allowed him to either play his cello or hone his oral skills as he has chosen. We experimented at home until we found the most comfortable position for him to be in to practice his instrument and he has been encouraged to take part in the school music concert in a couple of weeks time. As for the “70s disco” theme plaster, this specific request is because he, G and the rest of their IMG_0499[1]Stagecoach school are performing a 70s tribute routine in a local carnival parade in the middle of June. He has once again been to every Stagecoach session this term, and so have I, and knows both the songs and the dance routine by heart, even though dancing it has been an impossibility. There is every chance that his cast may actually be off his leg by the time the parade happens, but we wanted to show wiling and be prepared “just in case”. Given the length of the parade route, M will unfortunately still be restricted to his wheelchair as his leg won’t be strong enough to walk its length, but we have some other suitably funky 70s ideas in mind to pimp both his costume and his wheelchair to fit the party vibe!

NEAW 2016 – All over for another year

With a blog post a day for the last 7 days as well as daily mini fact updates via my FB page, you’d think that I’d be glad that the EGID awareness week has finally drawn to a close. There is, I admit, a certain relief that the busyness of the week is over and I can at long last pause and take a breath, but just as EGID is a constant presence in M’s life, so raising awareness of it will continue to be an important part of our family’s life. A good friend and fellow EGID Mum has asked me to share her reflections of last week, which I am delighted to do as, as she says in her final line, “Knowledge is important this week and every week.”

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National Eosinophil Awareness Week 2016,

A time to share personal experiences,

Taking time to tell others what it’s like to live with or care for someone with an Eosinophilic Gastrointestinal Disorder (EGID)

Inviting those who have never heard of EGIDs to find out more,

One way to help raise awareness,

Not for self but for others as we are,

All in this together, the EGID community, so,

Let me tell you a little bit about what it’s like to be the mum of a child with EGID.

 

Elevated levels of eosinophils in the gastrointestinal tract are often disorder indicators,

Often this will mean that there will be pain and possibly inflammation,

Sometimes this will mean that there is a need to exclude foods; sometimes many, sometimes all,

Ige or non-IgE mediated food allergies may also be present, but not always!

Naso-gastric tubes and elemental nutrition may be the only way to manage symptoms,

Often the only option for many is a feeding tube as the body struggles with food proteins,

Pain, discomfort, nausea, altered bowel habits are just a few of the symptoms,

Hospital visits, hospital stays, invasive tests, medications and restricted diets become a part of life,

Illness can be socially restrictive; days, weeks or months may be lost to ‘flares’,

Life can be difficult for those diagnosed with EGIDs.

 

Awareness aids understanding of EGIDs,

Watching what you eat, if you are able to eat, is central to managing symptoms,

Avoiding known triggers, being a food detective, scrutinising labels, are also key skills that need to be developed,

Research is important; finding a cure and raising awareness of what it’s like to live with an EGID,

Education is also key to raising awareness and understanding of the impact of EGIDs,

Networks are central to enabling those with EGIDs to feel supported by those who understand

Eating … when food is the issue, is an issue …,

Support from others; a community of people who understand what it’s like when someone is diagnosed with an EGID is so important,

Societal understanding though will help those with EGIDs to engage more with their communities.

 

We hope for a future where the disorders are better understood, when we don’t have to fight to be heard,

Enabling those with an EGID to share their experiences with others can help this,

Eventually we hope for a cure or better ways to manage the disorders,

Knowledge is important this week and every week; please take a moment to read some of the stories shared by those living with EGIDs.