Category: parents of children with seizures

Gilligan at the Lab

One of Rose’s early seizure medications required monthly lab work to check blood levels.

She has always been a passive patient. I did not expect her to resist any treatments based on prior experience.

So I was surprised when we had a struggle getting some blood drawn at the local hospital.

We waited in the waiting room to be called. I thumbed through magazines, while Rose sat near the television.

When her name was called, I picked her up to head back to a room.  She squirmed, so I switched her to my other hip.  The lab technician was a middle-aged man. Since she was small, she was positioned lying down on a table for blood to be drawn.

“No, wait!” she said.

“But we need to get your labs done. It’s our turn.” said I.

“No, wait! ” she yelled.  Rose began to squirm and cry and point at the door.

The man asked if he should tie her down to the table. Now, mama wanted to yell.

I explained that she usually did not resist labs. I also pointed out that if we “tied her to the table today”, we would have trouble just getting her in the room next time.

I took Rose back out to the waiting room. I calmly resumed looking at magazines, she went back to the television. I nonchalantly told her to let me know when she was ready to get her labs done.

I kept peeking out from the magazine, watching her. What was different about this time?

It was not long before she came and stood beside me. I glanced up from my magazine.

“Ready.” she said.

I informed the receptionist at the desk that we were ready to try again.

Her name was called. We went back into the room. She lay on the table. The blood was drawn without incident.

As we were walking back through the waiting room to leave, Rose pointed to the television and said, “No more Gilligan.”

She did not mean she wanted to “wait” to get the blood work done.  She wanted to go back to the waiting room and finish watching Gilligan’s Island.

SEIZURE MAMA

The Slow Motion Seizure

This was Rose’s third stay in an Epilepsy Monitoring Unit. We knew the routine but we also knew there may be surprises. Come what may, it was time for answers. We needed to know where these seizures were coming from. It had been speculated that the hotspot was in the left parietal lobe of her brain, but there were no clear results to prove this.

What we had been through thus far in EMU was referred to as Phase I. The EEG electrodes are glued onto the outside of the skull in specific locations. Each has a different color. They are all electrical leads running to a monitor. Each picks up the electrical activity of its little patch of brain. The results look like squiggles on a long musical scale. The trained EEG-readers can tell where the abnormal activity is coming from by reading the spikes and peaks on the lines.

We had never considered proceeding to Phase II. That involves opening the skull and placing the electrodes directly on the brain. Rose’s dad and I had decided that we would not proceed to this next step without at least knowing which side of the brain the seizures were coming from. We were not going to make this decision for Rose. If we did get results that pinpointed which side was the source, Rose would decide what to do next.

The test we needed was called a SPECT. It required that a radioactive tracer be in injected during a seizure. This dye shows up on a scan so that the source and path of the seizure’s progression can be detected. We had tried to get this done at a local EMU, but the specially trained technicians only worked from seven AM to seven PM on weekdays. If the patient had a seizure during the nights or weekends, no technician was there to inject the tracer and immediately run the test. Our Rose had her seizure outside the window at the other EMU, so we did not get a SPECT.

We were in the sixth day of our stay at Mayo. Her drug levels were low or close to zero. She had had two quick seizures. Everyone was anxious about catching the next one. It was strange to be actually hoping for a long seizure, but that is what we needed. Everyone was on high alert. There was a button for us to push if we thought she was starting to seize. We did not take our eyes off of her.

Suddenly the nurses and technicians rushed into Rose’s room. We looked up puzzled. Had one of us pushed the button by accident? They turned on the monitor in her room. the screen lit up with squiggles. We paused and held our breath. Slowly Rose’s eyes went left. Slowly she stiffened. It was like watching everything in slow motion. The seizure began to creep across her face and down her torso. The nurses injected the precious tracer.  This was finally going to happen. After all these years, we were going to know where the dragon hid in her brain. Maybe now, we could stop it. We had hope.

SEIZURE MAMA

Peter Pan at the Mayo

BACKGROUND: Rose had to go home-bound the last semester of her senior year in high school.  It was a hard call to make. She was very disappointed to not be going to school, but the seizures were frequent and strong. We felt it would not be safe for her or fair to the school.

After the “Knock-out Rose” seizure during February, which occurred in the school driveway during her horticulture class, her face was torn up pretty badly. Her brian and her face needed some time to heal. We all needed a new plan. The drugs she was on were clearly not working. The added stress and excitement of being a senior were adding to the triggers.

We went back to an Epilepsy Monitoring unit near home in May for ten days. We had hoped to get a SPECT scan to pinpoint the source of her seizure activities. We came home without results, which is another story. Because we had taken this step without gaining the needed information. We got a referral to a Mayo Clinic.

STORY: We were finally at the MAYO! We had brought ALL the notebooks of Rose’s medical history and ALL of her MRI films. I had read and highlighted what I thought were the major points in ALL her doctor and hospital records. We had studied her eighteen-year medical history like we were taking an exam on it.

We had compiled concise lists of her numerous drug combinations complete with the seizures and side-effects that resulted from each.  Her dad had made spread sheets. I had made charts. We knew we had to be able to have all her information at hand to quickly produce what was needed.  It had taken us months to prepare for this trip.

I have never been so impressed with a place in my life. It was a medical mecca!  If we were EVER going to get help, it would be here. Hopes were high. We had enjoyed the drive across several states. We had even stopped at a zoo and botanical garden on the way. We were in high spirits.

After the complicated, but efficient, check in process; we were interviewed by numerous neurology specialist BEFORE seeing the FAMOUS doctor that we had an appointment with. Rose was examined over an over… finger  to nose…walk a straight line…watch by finger…push down my arms… So many questions. The exertion and excitement made us stumble at times, but we felt they had a full picture of Rose’s history when we were done.

After all the preliminary exchanges of information, we checked into one of the hospitals. The room was large with a lot of light. We were relieved that is would be comfortable for our stay. It is hard not to  feel trapped in an EMU. You aren’t there for rest. You are there for results. That means that the more seizures that occur, the more data you will acquire as to their origin.

Rose’s dad and I had learned from experience at other EMU’s to tag-team these events. We took turns staying with Rose. It is a very stressful time. The patient is weaned off his/her medications as quickly as is safely possible to encourage seizure activity. Electrodes are glued to the scalp at precise locations to pick up the electrical activities of the different areas of the brain.

During a stay in EMU, the patient has a long ponytail of wires running to a receiver box which is worn in a harness. This is cumbersome. The patient cannot shower or wash their hair until the testing is over. The head is wrapped in gauze to protect the wires and hold them in position. If one electrode comes loose, it shows up on a monitor and a technician has to come and re-glue it in place.

Rose handled the inconvenience of a colorful, wire ponytail and harness like a champ. This wasn’t her first rodeo. She enjoyed her”spa treatment” with wires. She has always been a compliant patient, even when she was tiny. She did not mind missing showers either. Win, win.

We did hit a snag in compliance of safety rules when it came to a contraption we called “Peter Pan.” This was a safety harness on a track along the ceiling.  It had cables that came down from a dolly which rolled along a track that ran from the side of the bed, across the room and into a private bathroom. The harness reminded me of something one might wear on a Zip-line.

Because patients in the EMU are being weaned off their medications, they are a fall risk. It was expected that the harness be worn anytime the patient got out of bed. Rose was out of bed frequently. For the first several days we made it a game of being Peter Pan to go to the bathroom. She was helped into her harness/costume and she  semi-glided/flew into the bathroom. The harness then had to be removed to actually use the bathroom. Then the harness had to be put back on again to go/fly back across the room to get back in the bed. Now the flying part was enjoyable. She would pose as Peter Pan as I gave her a gentle nudge and sang the Peter Pan song.

By day two, all thrill was gone. Her dad and I were tired of buckling and unbuckling the harness. She was tired of getting it on and off. I was really tired of singing the perky Peter Pan song. We no longer loved Peter Pan. This was unfortunate because with each passing day, her risk of seizures had increased. We were now at high risk and hated the harness. I wished we had delayed playing Peter Pan until a few days in. The harness became an issue.

At other EMU’s there were places a child could go, with equipment in tow, to get out of the room and have a change of scenery. We could use trips to the “game room” as a bribe. Here, Rose had to stay in the same room, all day every day. She had read her magazines, watched her movies and played all the games we had packed. We still had days to go.  The harness just added frustration.

Finally,  we spoke with the nurse in charge and assured her that one of us would be with Rose at all times and keep a hold on her every second that she was out of the bed. This was nothing new. Holding on to Rose. It was actually a habit we had. Staying close to her, holding on to her. Fear of falling was nothing new.  Only the harness was new. As I said this wasn’t our “first rodeo” ,  but we were sure hoping it was our last.

SEIZURE MAMA

 

 

Ugly Doll Rescue

The first time this happened was in a giant toy store.

We looked down into a tub full of stuffed animals

to spy a small doll in a red checkered dress with messy blonde hair.

Maybe it was that messy blonde mop that made Rose relate to this doll.

She picked it up and turned it over.

The mouth was twisted and the eyebrows raised.

It was an alarming face. I remember thinking that it looked like it had had a stroke.

Maybe I said this. I do not remember.

The doll never went back in the tub. She went home with us.

Her name is Crystal.

The next one was not as alarming.

She had a cute little head band and outfit.  I think the facial expression was the manufacturer’s attempt at a yawn.

Her name is Dorothy Gale.

Then came the pouty-faced brunette with tear streaks down her face.

She was unhappy in the store. We must take her home, so she will quit crying.

Chevrolet is still crying.

The fourth was the tiniest one. She is was wearing a bonnet.

Her smile is just a little crooked.

She has eyes that look as though she just finished crying, but stopped because she spotted someone she loves. It melts your heart.

I do not remember her name. I am sure Rose could tell you.

There was one last attempt at a rescue.

It was in a toy store in a mall.

Rose picked up the doll off the shelf.  It was supposed to talk, but when Rose pushed on her tummy, a horrible, board-scratching shriek came out.

Rose dropped the demonic doll and ran out of the store.

That ended the mission of rescuing ugly dolls.

This post is in honor of Rose who just spent her first night in a college dorm.

GO SAVE THE WORLD ROSE!!!!!

SEIZURE MAMA

 

 

 

Walking Back Through the Fire

I may have to stop the book for a while.

Writing it is hurting me.

I am trying to make it real for my readers,

but that means re-living all the pain myself.

It takes courage to walk back through the fire.  It’s like burning again on the inside.

I will continue when I feel strong enough.

I plan small doses, even though the flow may be off.

To you OTHER SEIZURE MAMAs,

Pay attention to every side effect.

Write everything down.

Keep track of all drug changes.

Get help when you need it.

Take care of yourself.

Mama trumps doctor everyday.

Seizure Mama

No Words better than Wrong Words

Rose had seizures everywhere.  There was no secret to be kept.

The stares did not bother me, most of the time.

I knew that the observers were puzzled and concerned.

What I dreaded were the comments.

Have you tried…?  My uncle had seizures and he…  You should take her to…

These strangers did not know how long we had been struggling for a solution.

They were just trying to help, but…

When Rose was home-bound from school, we took her to a little restaurant with a train running around near the ceiling.

We knew she would like to watch it.

She sat wrapped in a towel to keep her from getting chilled.

She had bruises on her face from a previous seizure.

We sat down in a booth (always a booth) near a big table full of policemen eating lunch.

My child, bruised and pale, wrapped in a towel, not in school.

Were we going to be questioned?  Child abuse?  Neglect?

No need to worry.  Rose had a seizure.

I lay her down in the booth with my purse under her head.

We sat and waited for her to come to.

As a lady was leaving, she walked over to us.

I was prepared for a comment or question.

Instead, she just patted my shoulder and silently walked away.

Thank you wise woman.  All I needed was a love pat.

No words.

Seizure Mama

 

Put on Your Own Oxygen-mask First

When you get on an airplane.

The attendants tell you during the safety training

that if you are travelling with a child,

to put on your own oxygen-mask first.

It seems counter intuitive for any mother to take care of herself first.

But what good are you to your child, if you are unconscious?

Once you get on the sacrifice cycle with an ill child,

it’s hard to even consider your own needs

while struggling to take care of all of your child’s urgent demands.

While looking through old photos of myself, I saw a very unwell person.

The stress changed my face, my body, my personality and my spirit.

Over and over, I went without “oxygen.”

There was no time for me, no energy for me.

I would take care of myself when she was well.

Going without oxygen for twenty-four years took it’s toll.

I am still trying to get healthy.

It’s taken surgeries, drugs, therapy, a trainer, hobbies, books, religion, family and friends to bring me back this far.

It has been a long, hard fight to get back to me.

I know you are busy mama, but

PUT ON YOUR OWN OXYGEN-MASK once in a while.

Seizure Mama

Crash and Run

It happened again. This time in Food Lion.

I was standing at the checkout, when a loud crash startled everyone.

I held myself in place.  Fighting the instinct to run

toward the sound.

It was NOT Rose falling.  She was standing beside me.

This was NOT an emergency.

No 911 call for the dropped watermelons.

No blood on the floor, only red juice.

No need to run toward this crash.

She is safe by your side.

Stand still. Breathe.

SEIZURE MAMA

Water and a Timer

Medication transitions in children with epilepsy are a tricky business.

Some drugs have to be backed off slowly.  The new drug must be added slowly.

During this change parents must watch for seizures from removing the old drug while also monitoring for side-effects from the new drug.

Also if the new drug is the wrong drug, there may be a reaction.

We went through these transitions over and over again with Rose.

Some were uneventful, but a few were very scary.

Once when she was transitioning rapidly due to seizures and side-effects, she went toxic.

My calls to her doctor were frantic. I remember I could barely get out the words.

I told the nurse that Rose was listless and I felt like we were poisoning her.

The wise nurse told me to stop the new drug and get a timer.

She said to keep setting the timer for 20 minutes. Every time it went off, wake her up and make her drink water. We did this for hours until she finally improved.

Maybe it made no real difference, but Mama had an assignment that she thought would help her baby.  Not knowing what to do to help your sick child is torture.

At least I had my job to do while we waited for the wrong drug to leave her system.

SEIZURE MAMA

This is for YOU

My life has been funneled to this task.

It is almost like I am not allowed to start anything else.

I feel like Jonah running from God.

Jonah did not want to go to Nineveh. I do not want to write this book.

I have PTSD, for goodness sake.   Must I relive this trauma?

Yes.  Because you are out there.  Feeling like the sky is falling.

Afraid.   Alone.

And I understand your pain.  I know your fear. I know your loneliness.

If I turn my back on my past and try to forget this experience,

I am turning my back on you.

I cannot do that. Whoever you are.

I am here.

God bless us both.

Seizure Mama