Tag Archives: tube feeding

A Brewing Storm

Yesterday a social media storm hit the EGID world, especially for those of us who are, or who have been, under the care of Great Ormond Street Hospital over the last few years. The reason? A story published by The Guardian newspaper on Saturday night, which has raised questions about the treatment of patients of GOSH’s gastro department following a huge number of complaints from parents and successive reviews of care carried out by the RCPCH (Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health) since 2015.

As a parent to a child with an EGID diagnosis and one that was given by GOSH at that, this story is heart-breaking and yet one that I know needs to be told. Whilst M has never been subject to the “aggressive treatment” described in the reports published by The Bureau of Investigative Journalism (see here and here), we have struggled with our own issues rising from some of our experiences during inpatient admissions at GOSH and I have always been open and honest in sharing these via my blog. We have made complaints, challenged M’s consultants and spent time talking to the Chief Exec to try and make sense of it all and improve the way that, not just M, but other children have been treated whilst they’re there.

Last summer I shared my fears about the huge question marks that have been hovering over the EGID diagnosis for a while and how they could impact on the treatment and care that M receives from the medics in our lives. This week my fears grow even greater as the TBIJ documentary investigating these allegations about GOSH will be aired on ITV1 at 10.40pm this Wednesday, April 18th. Whilst I know that the documentary is seeking to reveal the truth behind some of the treatment decisions made for certain families, there will undoubtedly be concerns raised about the veracity of the diagnosis of EGID itself and with that comes inevitable questions about whether any of those diagnosed with EGID are genuinely living with it, or not. Comfortable viewing it may not be, but I will be watching it – and probably keeping my eye on the resulting social media frenzy too.

At the end of the day, I’m not really that bothered about what the label itself actually is for M – EGID, MCAS, food allergies or something else – as all I want is a better life for him and the others who find themselves in the same boat. As I said last year,

“For us, and for the families we’ve got to know who live with it, EGID is a part of our lives that we have to accept and learn to come to terms with, no matter what discussion is being had in the medical world. It might not be clear whether EGID is in itself the final diagnosis, or if it is simply part and parcel of a larger problem that is, as yet, unknown, but it is our reality and it shapes every step that we take.”

*You can read a more in-depth, first-hand commentary about this GOSH story here

Bitter disappointment

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Two years ago, M and I waved goodbye to G as she trekked off on the adventure that is Year 6 Camp and, as he had his NG-tube in place, we chatted about whether Year 6 camp was a possibility for him. I reassured him that Mike and I were both keen for him to go and would work hard with the school to ensure that his every need – medical, dietary or otherwise – was met as he needed, whether the feeding tube was still in place or not. Despite never having spent a night away from family, M wanted to go, to try out new activities and to challenge himself as opportunity offered.

One year ago, as I manoeuvred M’s wheelchair through the back gates of school and across the school field to his classroom, we breathed a sigh of relief that it was during Year 5 that he had spectacularly broken his left leg and not in the weeks leading up to the Year 6 camp. The slow reintroduction of foods following the removal of his feeding tube would not hold him back and once again I found myself reassuring him that, if needs be, I would bake a batch of M-friendly cakes or cookies to accompany him on the trip and that we would ensure that the camp kitchen could safely cater for whatever his food requirements were when he went. His week away at Over The Wall built his self-confidence as he realised that he could tackle anything he put his mind to and succeed.

For the last 2 years, M has been looking forward to this rite of passage, this week of school camp and practically counting down the days until it was finally his time to go. He has been in discussion with G about the different activities he might get to do and planning all that he would need to make the week the success he so desperately wanted it to be. I met with the school to talk over the arrangements for meal-times and sleep that would need to be in place and was confident that they would do everything in their power to make it a week to remember for him and all his class-mates.

And then 2 weeks ago, M had to make what has been, without a doubt, one of the hardest decisions in his life so far. The past 4 months of food challenges have taken their toll and when that was added to the stresses of SATS, we saw an unwelcome decline in his health that we weren’t sure could be overcome easily. Despite our best efforts and hard work since mid-May, M has decided that going away to Year 6 camp is not the right thing for him to do at the moment. To say that my boy is bitterly disappointed would be an understatement. For 2 years of longing and planning to come to nothing is heartbreaking for us all and has been a bitter pill to swallow. For M, life has just seemed incredibly unfair once again.

M is frustrated that he can’t go, but he has based his decisions on the health struggles he is currently facing and knows that ultimately it is the right choice for him. He has tried to remain cheerful in school and has been an active participant in the tasks set to his class as they have researched where they’re going and what they’ll be doing. Mike and I met with his teachers and arranged for Mike to take him to the camp today for a half-day*, so that he can join in an activity of his choice and not feel that he is missing out completely. What has made it even harder to bear is that he currently doesn’t have a place on this year’s OTW Health Challenges Camp and is instead on the waiting list, with his fingers tightly crossed that a place might become unexpectedly available.

I know that in the long-run, M will pick himself up and dust himself off and keep going, just as he always does, but it’s hard to comfort him when he’s railing against just how unfair life can be because, in all honesty, right now I agree with him and it’s hard to find the positive and that silver lining we so desperately need to cling to.

*I’m delighted to share that today’s morning has turned into a full day at camp with his friends. M enjoyed the mud assault course so much that he felt confident to stay on and try his hand at abseiling and anything else he could find the time to do.

NEAW 2017 – His illness does not define him

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Our life experiences influence our view of the world that surrounds us. Good or bad, everything we do or see or hear or learn will affect our outlook on life, on whether we become individuals who see that hypothetical glass as being half-full or half-empty and how we react to our interpretation of that reality. When you’re growing up with a chronic illness as your one constant companion, it can come as no surprise that that condition begins to shape the person you become and the relationships you have with the rest of the world.

Rightly or wrongly, I have encouraged M to embrace his EGID diagnosis and become an advocate for himself and others living with it. M is, without a doubt, so much more than this disease and yet it is an integral part of the young man he is growing up to be. Our local gastro team are keen that M doesn’t view himself as a “sick kid”, that he doesn’t let his diagnosis stop him doing whatever he wants to do or being what he wants to be and those aims sit well with our approach to helping him cope with it all. However, I can’t and won’t agree to ignoring the reality of his life – the numerous hospital appointments, admissions and procedures; the daily medicines; the restricted diet and 12 months with a NG-tube mean that he is not like his friends, like other kids his age. In the last year alone, M has been seen at our local hospital over a dozen times and that does not make him the same as the rest of his classmates. Despite everyone’s best efforts, 2 and a half years after that first feeding tube was placed, M still only eats 6 safe foods on a regular basis and that makes him stand out from the crowd, not just at school, but at every activity or event he attends. He is, in all truth, a “sick kid”, but that label does not sum up who he is as an individual.

No matter what the medics suggest, I can’t pretend that all those experiences didn’t happen to him, to us as a family, but I will endeavour to make sure that M’s illness is not all that defines him.

Yes, he’s a child who cannot eat the same as his friends; but he can eat out and enjoy food with them.

Yes, he’s a child who lives with constant pain; but he has learned to ignore it and overcome it and achieve despite it.

Yes, he’s a child who spends too much time in hospital at medical appointments; but he is developing a confidence to question and understand and advocate for himself.

Yes, he’s had experiences that most adults I know would struggle with; but he has developed tremendous courage and an increasing self-worth in who he is as an individual.

The truth is that, just as my 30+ years with T1D has shaped the woman I’ve grown up to be, M’s life has been, and will continue to be, affected by his EGID diagnosis. We cannot pretend that the difficult times haven’t happened, we can’t airbrush them out of our family history and it would be doing a disservice to the fortitude and bravery of both my children if we tried to do so. They are so much more than the sum of their parts and whilst EGID has an unquestionable influence on the individuals G and M are becoming, it absolutely does not define either of them in their entirety, and nor will we ever let it.

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.

On this Day

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One of the things I enjoy about Facebook is the “On this Day” look back at the previous statuses you’ve posted on that day in years past, which is how I realised that today marks 4 years since the start of this blog. I’ve come,..we’ve come a long way since that very first post and have had more experiences, opportunities and adventures that I ever imagined possible. I’ve made some wonderful new friends and have been privileged to be able to lend support to those at the very start of their journey. We’ve met some amazing people and I can’t wait to discover what the year ahead brings.

Thank you for being a big part of my blog and continuing to support us every step of the way.

From all angles

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The last few months have been busy ones in all areas of our life, which I haven’t been shy in talking about, but the one aspect that I haven’t mentioned for quite some time is where we are health-wise with M’s EGID. You could view the reason for the radio silence as a good one – we haven’t really been making any significant progress and everyday continues to be a battle to see if we can reach and maintain some semblance of status quo for a decent length of time. I’ll be honest, since March things have been quite challenging as we have had little medical support and we have felt, at times, as if we’ve been cut loose and are paddling desperately to make some headway by ourselves. The reason for the missing input is that we are in the process of trying to build a shared care relationship between GOSH and our local hospital once again and at long last do appear to be making some progress, albeit very slowly. We last saw M’s GOSH consultant in the middle of March, when it was somewhat reluctantly agreed by us that we would wait until November for his next GOSH appointment with the plan being that we would meet and then have an appointment with our local gastro team during the interim period.

It may well come as something of a surprise that we are even considering transferring some of M’s gastro care back to our local given the numerous problems we’ve had in the past, but this time we were encouraged by the fact that his new gastro consultant is a registrar that we got to know whilst at GOSH and someone we trust implicitly when it comes to M and his health. Dr W, who has invited us and M to be on a first-name basis with him, was instrumental in getting M admitted 2 years ago when we made the decision to move to elemental feeding and so is someone who knows something of M’s background and understands where we, as his parents, stand when it comes to treating this disease. We are also keen to gain some local support for M because, when crisis hits, it is very difficult to get any immediate care from GOSH due to the distance we live from the hospital and the inability to just pop along there for them to review his current state of health. There is a standing agreement that we can phone and discuss him with any one of his consultant’s team, but sometimes that isn’t enough to resolve the issue as quickly as we all need. Dr W had already agreed with GOSH that he was happy to meet with us and look at the potential possibility of taking over some of M’s care during last year’s disastrous admission and he understands that there is a trust issue between us and our local hospital that he and his team will need to work hard to re-establish – something that is so critical to M’s well-being.

With a little prodding, it didn’t take too long for Dr W to give me a call and then for an initial appointment to arrive on our doormat and Mike, M and I met with them in the middle of June. At this point, M’s broken leg had unleashed an unexpected level of havoc on his body and we were struggling to manage the ever-fluctuating bowel issues as well as his increasing reluctance to drink the E028 and huge disappointment that we couldn’t undertake any food trials whilst he was so unstable. The team was great, but it really was just a conversation about what we were looking for and what they felt they could do for us. A few interesting insights and suggestions about M’s diagnosis were thrown out, but there was no opportunity to ask questions about them and now, 3 months on, our reflections have left us wondering about what the next steps will be. What didn’t come as a surprise was the question mark over whether M is truly suffering from so many genuine food allergies or rather if there is an underlying problem with his gut and/or bowels which means that he is unable to tolerate so many foods at the moment. This has been a question that has been stumping his GOSH dietician too, who has freely admitted to finding M one of her most challenging patients ever and is hoping our local will provide a fresh pair of eyes when it comes to considering how best to treat him. Dr W also expressed a concern that M would eventually stop drinking the E028 altogether and stressed that we need to find a viable alternative before we reach that point. This has proved to be remarkably insightful as it is now one of the biggest issues that we have had to contend with since that June appointment, with M struggling to drink even half of the required amount and with no new foods in his diet, there are growing concerns about both his weight and his nutritional intake.

Just before our Portuguese holiday, I contacted our GOSH dietician to discuss with her the lack of progress we’ve been making with M and asking for her input as to what we should do next. The email reply I had came as something of a concern as she explained she was under the impression that all care had been moved to our local hospital and she was surprised that I was looking to have a further conversation with her. I fired off a considered response, copying in both the GOSH and local consultants, advising that whilst we had met with the local gastro team in June, we had heard absolutely nothing since and really needed some medical advice once September started, although somewhat ironically we have had our next GOSH appointment booked – September 2017! Thankfully the strong relationship we have built up with this dietician since M first went to GOSH 5 years ago meant that S was happy to step in and gave me a call just a few days into September. She was as concerned as I was about the lack of medical care being given to M at the moment and during that lengthy phone conversation, worked with me to put a plan into place for food trials over the next 4-6 weeks. She also offered to chase both Dr W and our GOSH consultant to find out what was happening regarding the transfer of M’s care and try and speed up the process to ensure that M is seen before November if at all possible. I’m not quite sure what strings she pulled, but within a week of speaking to S, Mike received a phone-call from Dr W to tell him that a plan had been agreed between the two hospitals and an appointment would soon be forthcoming. Delighted to hear that a plan would soon be put in place, Mike asked whether we could be privy to the discussion they had had, so that we too were on board with whatever next steps they were expecting to make. Another lengthy conversation later and at long last, we finally had some idea of how M’s care will be handled until the end of the year at least.

The most critical aspect of looking after M right now is that no-one really understands what is going on with his body, his bowels and gut in particular, and there doesn’t appear to be any logical explanation why we seem to be stuck at just 5 safe foods. Add to that the added complications of the massive downturn in his health that happened as a result of his broken leg and the resulting failure to find ourselves in as good a position as we were a year ago, the medics all agree that they are more than a little stumped. So, rather than rush into more tests or a radically changed approach to his treatment, our local gastro team have booked monthly appointments for the next 3 months, where they will be assessing and observing him without getting too involved in the medical decisions. Obviously any problems that we do encounter during that time will be addressed, they won’t leave M to suffer unnecessarily, but they are leaving us to work with GOSH in terms of his food challenges and medicine tweaks. They have also recognised the need for psychological support, not just for M, but for the whole family and are proposing that we start with weekly appointments, split into fortnightly appointments for M and the alternate weeks for Mike and me. We have long argued that the diagnosis of his EGID has a huge psychological and emotional impact on M and have frequently seen the outpouring of that in the home environment. The added stress of his SATs this year is already showing at both home and at school and so I am hopeful that with these regular sessions in place and the support of us and his teacher, we will ensure he makes his way through Year 6 relatively unscathed. With this kind of all-encompassing care in place and the availability of local support for any admissions or longer term treatment changes that might be needed, the strain on the family will hopefully be reduced a little too, although it will obviously never fully disappear. We don’t know what the future holds for M and that is the most daunting thing we have to face as a family. What is encouraging is that there is already an open dialogue between some of the many people involved in M’s day-to-day care and our hope is that can only prove to be the best thing for him.

Rice Two-Ways

City Adventures in Lisbon

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The first few days of our Portuguese adventures were spent in the capital city, Lisbon, where we enjoyed some great days out in what was a first visit for us, even though we know parts of the Algarve extremely well. For anyone wondering where to go on a family break, Lisbon has a huge variety of choices to suit just about every age and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it. We weren’t staying in Old Lisbon itself, but rather in one of its suburbs and it was extremely easy to travel in and out of the main centre by train using their Via Viagem travel card system, something akin to London’s Oyster cards.

My Mum had lent me her Lisbon guide-book before we went, which I had just about had time to skim through and highlight some things which I thought might appeal to us all, given our ages ranged from 10 to somewhere in the 60s, and I knew she had a list of ‘must-sees’ to hand too. Her Berlitz Pocket Guide also proved to be a welcome distraction for an unexpectedly nervous M, who was surprisingly anxious about our 2 hour flight as he hasn’t flown since before having his tube and spent the time studying the guide pinpointing attractions he really wanted to visit whilst we were there. IMG_0957[1] With a list as long as our arm to work our way through, we narrowed down our choices to the top few that appealed the most to us all and set off to see just how much ground we could cover in our 3 full days in the city.

Our main choice for the first day was to jump on to a “Hop-on, hop-off” bus, a firm favourite in our family as a way of exploring a new place as it not only helps orientate ourselves, but also serves as a great way of seeing some sights that we might otherwise not get to visit due to time constraints. We used the familiar City Sightseeing tours as a company we’ve used around the world with great success, but have to say that this time we were left a little disappointed. The bus-stops were poorly signed and we frequently found ourselves walking miles in an attempt to work out exactly where we needed to be to catch the bus back to wherever we next wanted to be. On one occasion, we even gave up completely having spied the bus heading away from us after a good 20 minutes standing in the blazing sun at a marked bus-stop on what we knew had to be the wrong side of the road for the direction we wanted and instead negotiated a great rate with one of the Tuk Tuk drivers, much to the children’s delight.

We took the bus and travelled out to the area of Belém, where M had identified the impressive Torre de Belém as a necessary sightseeing stop. He was particularly intrigued by the stone rhino that graces the base of one of the Tower’s turrets and insisted we explored until we found it whilst the older members of our group held a place in the queue. We waited for well over an hour in the soaring heat and it was just about worth the wait. IMG_0914[1] Both children enjoyed exploring the different levels of the Tower, honing their photography skills amongst the cannons in the artillery as well as in the dungeons and of the stunning panoramic views of the River Tagus from the top. The tower is climbed via a steep spiral staircase and a series of sequenced traffic lights indicated when it was time to climb up, down, or pause for breath in one of the rooms off the main staircase.

Having exhausted all that the Torre de Belém had to offer, my Mum was keen for us to head towards the infamous Padrão dos Descobrimentos, perhaps one of the most well-known sights in Lisbon. Sadly, the monument that depicts a number of important Portuguese historical figures including explorers Magellan and Vasco da Gama, was hidden by scaffolding, but we enjoyed the walk along the river before wearily trekking on to our ever-elusive next bus-stop. Our travels also took us past the impressive Cristo Rei statue – M’s “…like Christ the Redeemer, but not..” – the beautiful Moorish-inspired Campo Pequeno Bullring and the awe-inspiring Águas Livres Aqueduct, all of which give us great reason to visit this beautiful city again.

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Best. Week. Ever.

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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 had 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.

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Lost in Translation

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As Mum to a child with additional health needs, you have to be prepared the minute you venture outside your front door. You don’t just carry with you the medicines, equipment and food items you need to get you through the next few hours relatively unscathed, but also the necessary mental strength to explain your child’s needs to everyone you encounter and ensure that your trip outside of the safe bubble at home goes as smoothly as it possibly can. There are, of course, times when an essential gets left on the kitchen counter and you have to think on your feet and find a solution that will work until you get back home, and, for us, there have been times when, despite the clear explanations given and the seeming comprehension of the waiting staff, mistakes have been made and the children have suffered the consequences of those misunderstandings.

When you add travelling abroad to the mix, those unavoidable stresses become even more intense and, as an allergy Mum, I can tell you that worries about safe food are right at the top of the list. As you may remember, last year we decided to stay in the UK during that first holiday season with a tube in place and had the most amazing week in Cornwall, where we discovered hidden treasures of restaurants and sight-seeing spots that we are still talking about nearly 12 months on. However, we decided that this year we would venture back to a favourite haunt and visit the Algarve in Portugal, with a few extra days in Lisbon tacked on to the start of our trip. We know the resort of Alvor extremely well, but this will be the first time of visiting with such a restricted diet and I have to confess that nerves have been a little greater as we plan our 10-day stay away from home.

One thing I learned early on in our holiday planning with M was to talk to our airline about taking an extra case filled with whatever medicines or foods we will need whilst we’re away and have had superb experiences with both Easyjet to Portugal and Virgin Atlantic to Florida. These conversations paved the way for our long-haul flight to the USA and we found that both the airport lounge and the airline were able to provide safe meals for M when we gave them a little advance warning, but what happens once we’ve landed abroad, especially in a country where we don’t speak a word of the native language? Our back-up plan is our self-catering apartment, which means that there is always somewhere to prepare a simple meal of M’s safe foods without too much trouble, but I do, perhaps selfishly, want a holiday from that daily grind of cooking and be able to enjoy a family meal as we used to do when the children were small. Our previous holidays to Portugal were challenging, but not impossible as M loves fish and seafood which are always readily available, but I worried that the current restrictions might be a demand too far.

Fortunately, there are answers to the anxiety about communicating food allergy requirements in a foreign language and whilst it took a little more effort than originally planned, I got our perfect solution in the end. I started by calling Allergy UK, who offer a fantastic service of providing translation cards which “…feature an allergy alert message, an emergency message and a message for use in restaurants to ensure that your food order is free from the particular allergen that causes your reaction…” and can be ordered in any one of 36 languages to cover 70 different allergens. However, I really wanted a bespoke message detailing M’s current safe foods and unfortunately Allergy UK was not able to tailor their cards accordingly, but they did point me in the direction of the amazing Yellow Cross, a company I had never even heard about until recently.

Thanks to a detailed e-mail conversation with Yellow Cross Director, Jane Harrison, she agreed that it would make far more sense to detail what M can eat, rather than a lengthy list of his many allergens and suggested she spoke to their translator to cost out these personalised cards. We settled on appropriate wording, it was passed to their Portuguese translator and I was quoted a very reasonable £20 for a set of 4 eating out translation cards. I confirmed that we wanted the cards, made payment and in less than a week, the finished credit card-sized cards dropped through our letter box. The cards are printed on card and then carefully laminated to extend their life, and I couldn’t be happier with the finished product. They clearly state the wording I had discussed and agreed with Jane and their service was absolutely faultless. I found Yellow Cross willing to help us with our request and I’m certain that the inclusion of these cards in our travel survival pack will ensure that our Portuguese holiday goes with a swing.

7 years to diagnosis

Searching for an answer