Story #10: Expecting and Accepting

Rose enjoyed her year in kindergarten. Her first grade teacher was a delightful, experienced woman. I was the volunteer Rainbow Reader for Rose’s classroom. I enjoyed my time in her room with the students. I went to her class each week and read books out loud to her class. There was always a lot to do in her classroom. The teachers in early grades were expected to assess each child individually. This meant that support was needed for those weeks as the teacher performed the one-on-one assessments with students. I was a certified teacher, so I understood this and was glad to help.
Rose was a good student and an advanced reader. I am not sure whether she was making progress during this year or succeeding due to former learning. We did notice that her hands were shaking when she tried to do certain fine motor activities. Her crayon coloring did not stay inside the lines. Her drawings were sloppier than they used to be. She also had some hearing difficulties. Her hearing was tested and accommodations were made. When some test results came home saying she had reading issues, I had her retested with the evaluator sitting on the side of her “good ear.” The second test results were improved.
Second grade got much more difficult. Because standardized state testing began in the third grade, the second grade teachers were expected to prepare their students for this upcoming year. Rose had a hard time keeping up. The math quizzes were timed. Missed problems were to be worked out and copied over at home. Missed spelling words were also sent home to study. Rose became very frustrated fast. The timer made her nervous. I was not sure she could hear the spelling words. Things were falling apart.
I did not realize how bad things had gotten until report cards came out. It wasn’t her grades that concerned me. It was her tardies. Every morning her brother and she were let out of the car at the same time. He would get to class on time, but she would be late. When I asked her about this, She explained that she stopped to get water, or peek into the library, or walk by her former classroom. In other words, she wandered around the school until the bell rang. This was not safe for her. It was also a sign of her dreading to go to her classroom.
I understood Rose’s frustration. We were struggling with all her “re-do” work at home. But as a former teacher, I knew the pressures Rose’s teacher faced in pushing her students. I remembered Rose’s neurologist warning the we may need to adjust our academic expectations. The drugs were slowing her down, but I did not want to accept this.
I was finally pushed to consult the teacher when my wise father asked me if he needed to make an appointment with Ms.C. I requested a much needed conference with Rose’s teacher. We worked together to augment Rose’s assignments to include shorter spelling lists, and more time for math quizzes. This was the first step in accepting that our academic expectations for Rose had to be altered. It was not fair to Rose to push and overwhelm her.

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

Pay attention to everything. Is your child happy to go to school? Does he/she finish lunch? Does he/she talk about friends? What does your child do during recess?
So many times I was alerted to problems by some random comment. It is hard to catch every detail when you are busy and have other children. Pause often and try to picture what your child’s day is like. Listen for clues. I still do this when Rose calls home from college.

Story #9: Mama Goes to Kindergarten

Rose and I started kindergarten together. The first two weeks were half days, so the teachers could make home visits in the afternoons. Our plan was for me to stay with Rose at school until her teachers came to our house for the home visit. They knew this plan and could have scheduled our home visit earlier. Rose and I were both known at the elementary school because Rose’s older brother was there. I had been involved in the Parent Teacher Association and volunteered often.
I will always remember those two weeks of constant action. Rose’s teacher and assistant were both amazingly patient and pleasant women. There was constant activity every minute of the day, even during nap time. I found it exhausting, but very entertaining. I felt really good about Rose being with these two women. I knew, despite their many responsibilities, they would take care of Rose as best they could.
The day of the home visit arrived. Rose served her teachers brownies and lemonade. We talked briefly about funny events that had occurred during the first weeks of kindergarten. Rose was happy to have her new teachers in her home.
They both sat on the couch as I demonstrated how to handle a seizure using Rose’s large stuffed cow, Lovey. I described how a seizure might start and then placed Lovey on her side. I opened Rose’s big red seizure bag that was to stay in the principal’s office. I put a rolled towel from inside it under Lovey’s head and pulled out Rose’s emergency medication and pretended to administer it to the cow.
After I finished the demonstration, I looked into the teachers’ faces and waited. Would they handle this for us? Could they do this? Were they willing to take this on? Most importantly, was I going to have to spend the year in kindergarten?
They looked at each other. Then looked back at us. Ms.J said, “We can handle this.” I couldn’t believe what I heard. Just because public school is obligated to make accommodations does not mean they gladly do it. Ms.S said they both knew how to handle seizures. One had a husband who had epilepsy, the other had seizures herself and was taking the same medication as Rose was. The principal knew all this. That’s why he put Rose in their classroom. I felt so blessed to have these two women be part of Rose’s team. What a relief and a gift. I will always be grateful to these two wonderful women.

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

A “seizure bag” went wherever Rose went. In it were several towels, a change of clothes, wipes, paper towels, and a bottle of water. Her emergency medications came in packs of two syringes and were somewhat expensive. One was kept in the big red bag at school, the other one in my purse. These emergency drug syringes could not be left in the car. The drug could not get too hot or too cold, so the syringe stayed with me. This meant that I carried an over-sized purse for years. I rolled the sealed syringe in a bandanna scarf to protect it inside my cluttered purse and used the bandanna to cover Rose during a seizure. This is how you live with epilepsy on the go.

Story #8: Preschool for Two

After the series of seizures in the hospital, drug 2D was weaned down and replaced with drug 3S. This new drug was sprinkled onto pudding or peanut butter. The new set of side effects to watch for were hair loss, increased appetite, and learning issues. Well, at least her gums were safe now!
Rose’s birthday is in October so she was either going to be older than her classmates or much younger. Since she was small and had health issues, we had chosen to keep her in preschool an extra year before starting public school. We were glad that we had done this in view of all these ear infections, drug transitions, and seizures. I wore a beeper on my belt at this point. I would drop her off at preschool and go walk at a park down the road or visit grocery store located just across the highway. I was never more than two minutes away. Rose and I were tethered together out of my fear. These Mother’s Morning Out days of preschool were our only break from each other.
Our family loved this preschool. We knew all the teachers well since Rose’s older brother had attended there a few years earlier. The one person on the staff who was not my friend at the time was the director. She was gruff and blunt. She said what she thought without any sweet Southern filter.
When Ms. B heard about Rose’s surgery and the following series of seizures, she phoned us. She informed us that the church preschool could not be responsible for handling medical emergencies. The teachers were not trained for these. Rose was a liability risk. This was hurtful to us, but I also understood it. Rose’s teachers truly loved her and if anything happened to her on their watch, they would have been devastated. By law, public schools have to accommodate students with special needs, but churches do not.
Our options were to pull Rose out of her preschool or have me stay in the building every day while she was there. We were not going to tell Rose at the tender age of five that she was not welcome back into her beloved preschool because of her seizures. Instead I simply stayed at the church every day. The staff knew that I was upstairs in an empty room near the director’s office. I was only a shout away if needed. I read books and studied. Other mothers and teachers dropped by for visits. The director came by to check on me. I began helping her out with needed tasks. Then I cataloged all the children’s books and repaired them. I even substituted when other teachers were sick.
The experience was good for all involved. Rose got to stay in school and her teachers did not need to worry because I was close by. The director and I became good friends.
When Ms. B would drop by to check on me everyday, sometimes I shared my worries. Once when I was obsessing about an upcoming event, she said, “Don’t cross the Fox until you cross the Fox.” She then went on to share that this was some advice from Abraham Lincoln. Apparently there was a Fox River. As folks traveled toward the river they worried about whether the river was up too high or moving too fast to get across. Lincoln was reminding folks to wait and “cross that bridge when you get there.”
Once Ms. B caught me crying. I was overwhelmed by all the hoops we were having to jump through to get help for Rose. She looked into my eyes and asked, “How do you eat an elephant?”and then answered, “One mouthful at a time.”
Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

Forcing the responsibility for your child’s safety onto others is not fair to them or to your child. If your child’s seizures can be dangerous or even life-threatening, you want a willing and competent person in charge of his/her care. You must be an advocate and an assistant. People fear what they do not understand. You must educate the people around your child about epilepsy. Yes, there is a stigma. There will be some shunning. But if you confidently share information with others, there will be no surprise,or public revelation to dread. We were always open about Rose’s epilepsy. This is so much better that trying to guard it like a secret. Be brave and honest. Would you hide your child’s asthma or diabetes? Of course not. Then do not hide this condition. There should be no shame. If your child senses your shame, he/she will feel ashamed of it,too. Do not hand them a handicap.

Story #7: Second Drug Down

Rose had many sore throats and ear infections from the time she was a baby. To help with these issues, she had a tonsillectomy and a tube placed in her left eardrum for drainage in December. She was five years old and in her second year of prekindergarten preschool. The surgery went as planned. We went home feeling like we were eliminating several health issues. We were relieved to have these two surgeries behind us.
Around 4:00 AM the night after the outpatient surgery Rose started vomiting. We hoped this was due to the post-surgery pain medications. Her vomit consisted of applesauce and white flecks. We wondered if the white flecks were pieces of drug 2D. The vomiting continued. We tried to intervene with a gel applied to her arm. The anti-nausea gel was our safety net for nausea. We kept syringes of it in the refrigerator.
The first seizure occurred about 10:00 AM. The first one was short. The one that followed was a bit longer. Then there were two episodes of stiffening of her arms. Any series of seizures is scary, but Rose’s body was under the stress of post-surgery and the after-effects of anesthesia. We knew we needed help.
We went to the Emergency Room at our local hospital. We made it clear that Rose’s neurologist must be contacted before any drugs were given in her IV. A large dose of drug 2D was administered without consulting Dr. T. When a blood sample was drawn later, the levels of drug 2D was really high, too high. No other drugs could be given.
Rose had four more seizures while at this high level of 2D. She was seizing while unconscious. Her emergency, sub-lingual pills could not be used due to her high levels of 2D. We watched helplessly, realizing drug 2D was not effective in preventing Rose’s seizures.
Rose was moved to a room on the pediatrics floor. I was comforted that her bed was surrounded by caring and attentive professionals. I was not comforted that they could barely hide their panic. I watched as they lovingly tried to help my unconscious little girl as if she were their own.
They were hovering around Rose’s bed, totally focused on her every move when a nursing assistant rolled some scales in to the room to attempt to get Rose’s weight. The group heard the squeaky wheels of the scales enter her room. They all turned from the bed to see the scales. In unison they belted out, “Not now.” It was such a ridiculous event that I laughed out loud.
Seizure Mama speaks to parents.

When you take your child to a hospital, you are no longer in charge. They have their rules and protocols that they must follow. You must be assertive, yet patient. I am not good at either of these things, but I have had to practice. You and your child will have to live with treatments received in the Emergency Room long after the doctors and nurses have moved on to the next emergency. Keep all your medication information and doctor contacts with you at all times. These medical professionals need all the information they can get, fast, so they can make the right decisions quickly.

Staring at the Ceiling

Rose had dreamed of this for years.  She was so excited to finally be here.

After being herded past thousands of pieces of magnificent artwork,

we entered through the crowded doorway

of  the anticipated site and descended the steps.

We had expected solemn silence, but instead there was talking and pushing

and guards yelling “Silenzio!”

Our group was being moved, in mass, with our leader and her orange flag in the front.

There was barely time to pause and look up during our allocated minutes.

Rose’s father, brother and I were busy being bustled about, but Rose was staring at the ceiling.

Her eyes titled up, her lips parted and her chin dropped.

Rose’s face looked exactly like it looks when she is starting to have a seizure.

The three of us rushed to her side at once.

We startled her out of her rapturous moment.  She was furious with us.

Our time in the chapel was up.  Our orange flag was on the move. We must follow it.

Our tour group was herded out of the chapel only to rush past more famous pieces of art.

Whether in Rome or at home.

We are always alert for a seizure.

Our fear had ruined this precious memory,  like so many others.

Forgive us Rose.

Stop this Snake

I have a sneaky seizure snake

coiled in the back of my mind.

It stays put most of the time.

Sometimes it strikes

with electrical venom

and shocks my brain.

It slithers through my thoughts

and steals them.

I wish someone strong

could put a heal on the head

of this seizure snake.

 

The Hades Rodeo

I know it is only

a matter of time

before I must ride

the Lightning bull

at the Hades Rodeo.

I will be twisted and turned

then thrown to the ground.

I hope that some clown

will stand over me

while I’m down

to save me

from being stomped

before I can get back

up on my feet

at the Hades Rodeo.

Story #6: Gilligan at the Lab

Rose’s drug 2D required periodic lab work to check blood levels. She has always been a passive patient. I did not expect her to resist any tests or 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 speaks to parents.
All the tests and labs that may be required for treatment of epilepsy may be confusing to your child. You need to put up a good front. They will follow your lead if you act matter-of-fact about the procedures. Discuss what is about to be done. You may even want to draw a picture of the needles and wires. That way they will know what to expect.
I knew that if I let this lab technician tie Rose down to the table this time, that I could not even get her back into a room next time. She would, however, be happy to come back to the lobby to see Gilligan.

Story #5: The First Neurologist

Rose’s first visit to a neurologist was two months after her first official epileptic seizure. During the previous weeks she had tried one drug that failed and was on a second. Many tests had been run including an electroencephalogram(EEG). She had experienced a second seizure the month before the visit. We were anxious to learn everything we could from this appointment.
Dr. T’s diagnosis was complex partial epilepsy. This meant that Rose’s seizures started in a certain place in her brain and then generalized to a full, grand mal event. This made sense to us because many of her supposedly febrile seizures started with chin twitching. Rose referred to these as a “tornado in her mouth.” She could not speak during these episodes, but she could point to her mouth. That little aura event was so helpful in those early days. The aura soon disappeared, so that we were all surprised by Rose falling to the floor.
Since her seizures were lengthy, Dr.T advised us to get CPR training. She recommended that we call 911 for any seizure lasting for more than five minutes. We knew that longer seizures meant danger to her brain and life. We vigilantly watched her. Rose was a very active little girl, so this was not easy. She always stayed within earshot of the person responsible for her. We started tag-teaming back then. Just to make sure someone was always near-by and alert.
The neurologist evaluated Rose physically and mentally with simple tests. She was extremely bright and was evaluated as entry-level first grade, although she was just entering her last year of pre-school. Dr.T instructed us to watch for developmental back-sliding and side-effects involving Rose’s gums. After our experience with her first drug 1T, I knew that such changes were plausible. We hoped that this second drug would do its job without side-effects.
The plan was to stay on drug 2D for three years and then wean down and eventually off, if no more seizures occurred. We were glad to hear that this may be a childhood condition which may eventually diminish. I am not sure if that was an accurate assumption. Our new goal was three seizure-free years.
We jumped through all the seizure-prevention hoops. Rose took all medications on time. She was encouraged to take afternoon naps even if it was just quiet time in her bed. We still diligently watched for fevers and treated each immediately with a red or pink over-the-counter non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug(NSAID).

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

The term SUDEP(Sudden Unexplained Death from Epilepsy) had not been coined at this point. We knew that during Rose’s first long seizure that her heart may have stopped. We knew that the longer and stronger the seizures were, the more dangerous and life-threatening they were. This was always in the back of our minds. It is still in the back of our minds. Rose is twenty-six years old and away at college, but that fear is still here. You must go on with your life despite this threat. Uncertainty is present in every life, you just got yourself a big ol’ dose of it to hide somewhere.

Now that we know one of Rose’s triggers is red dye #40, I went back through all her records to see if there was any correlation between her red medications and seizures. I found no correlation for the prescribed medications, such as liquid antibiotics that were red, pink or orange. There is no way for me to track all the colored over-the-counter liquid drugs. As a precaution, we now avoid anything red.  Read food labels. Even if the food is not red, pink, orange or purple, it may still contain red dye.

Story #4: First Drug Down

Drug “1T” was our first  drug. Now we knew that the cause of the seizures was always in Rose’s brain, not just showing up with fevers. It was a resident, not a guest. We were in a constant state of vigilance. I do not say this lightly. It would be a condition for us that still continued for decades, emergency-ready for twenty-four/seven. Rose nicknamed herself 24/7 because of this. We all tried to play this down, but it was what it was.
With the drug 1T, Rose became more active and hungry. She seemed hyper-emotional compared to her prior happy-go-lucky self. Was this change due to the new drug or an after-effect of the seizure? Her care-free childhood had transformed into a series of tests and medications and worried faces. There was a period of weeks after that long seizure in May that seemed like epilepsy was the center of our universe.
Our family planned a camping trip for mid-June. We hauled the boat and tent to a State Park for a week of fun. Our site was along the shores of a crystal-clear lake. Some friends with a daughter Rose’s age came to visit and spend a day with us out in our pontoon boat. Rose had a lot of fun on this trip. She made her own little play house inside a folded lawn chair. What an adventure.
Her dad and I had discussed what we would do if a seizure occurred during our stay here. We knew where the hospital was. We located the park office. There were officials around who could help, if needed. We made our plans in case of emergency. We had the bag phone. We were cautious, but brave.
During the night on Wednesday, I was awakened by unusual noises and motion beside me in the dark tent. I quickly switched on my flashlight. Rose was seizing. Her face and neck were covered in drool. Her skin looked splotchy. The seizure was short.
I lay back down on my sleeping bag, keeping a hand on Rose. I lay there thinking about what a crazy stupid mother I must be to have my baby here in the middle of nowhere, in a locked campground, in a tent, in the dark. This event was the beginning of one of my paranoid hopes of buying a house across the street from a hospital. That way we would always have medical help close-by.
When Rose awoke the next morning, she was scratching her neck. I pulled up her pajama top. A prickly red rash covered her torso and upper arms. Her lips were swollen. The bag phone was used to call her pediatrician. His diagnosis was that Rose had experienced an allergic reaction to the new drug, 1T.
Camp was broken. The tent was bagged up. Supplies were tossed haphazardly into the pontoon boat and the back of the truck. We headed back to civilization and supposed safety.
We stopped by the doctor’s office then pharmacy on the way home. This drug was not the right one. There were more to choose from. Lots more. Surely the next one would do the trick and stop the seizures without side effects. Seizures had been around for centuries. Surely there was an effective drug to fix this.

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

A drug is a drug. It is a chemical compound, not a magic wand. It does what it does with the other chemicals in the body. Drugs are not dynamic substances. They work or they don’t. If a drug is not working, move on.
After trying several different drugs, we began to feel obligated to give each new drug more time. Determined to give each more chances than it probably deserved. We were afraid to damn each one for fear there was not a new drug waiting in the wings. Learn their names. Know their half-lives. Keep records of their effects and side-effects. When the evidence shows that the drug is ineffective, move to another or a new combination. Do not linger with a drug failure.
My charts of drugs and dosages, seizures and side-effects gave us confidence to move forward in terms of medications and treatments. It also eliminated “re-inventing the wheel” when we had to change doctors or go to a new clinic for tests.