Sunday, May 29, 2016

Seizures

            One of the biggest issues with Michelle’s condition has been her seizures. They are the most life threatening symptom that she has had to deal with so far and the scariest for the rest of us to watch and deal with. With constant trips to see doctors, specialists and emergency rooms, the fear is only exceeded by frustration of knowing not enough is being done.
Michelle while hospitalized in 2013
            Michelle began having seizures at age 2, but at the time we had no idea what they were. At that time I thought seizures were only the Tonic Clonic or Grand Mal seizures you see on TV and these were more like hiccups and blank stares, which ended up being Clonic and Absence seizures. Other types of seizure also appeared over the years in different forms that we assumed were anything other than a seizure attributed to being tired or cold or anything except seizures. It wasn’t until she was 5, when she had one in front of her doctor that we were told what they really were and we missed 3 years to act on them.
According to Epilepsy.com there are about 40 types of seizures and from that list, Michelle has had 13 of them. While she was younger, most of them were small and simple, nothing too scary, but we wondered what kind of an effect they had on her in the long run. Would they get worse? Would they make her worse? Would they kill her? There were so many thoughts running in my head and there were times my worst fears played out.
One time she had a seizure upstairs while I was downstairs and I didn’t know until after the fact. The position she was in prevented her from breathing. I had no clue what was happening until I came upstairs and saw her eyes and the sign she had been without oxygen for a time. I had her checked out and she was fine. She dodged a bullet.
Another time at school in the pool she had a seizure and went under water. Thankfully there were teachers next to her and were able to get her out in a few seconds. Another trip to the ER confirmed she had taken a small amount of water in her lungs. She was OK but she stayed home for 5 days with a prescription of high grade antibiotics to prevent pneumonia. Other incidences have occurred, such as her falling out of bed, but my mind often races to the worst each time it happens.
For some time her seizures had been under control after her hospitalization 3 years ago. However last September they returned with Nocturnal Seizures, Grand Mals that occur while she is asleep. Appointments were made immediately and my wishful thinking was in overdrive. She was seen by her pediatric neurologist from one of the top children’s hospitals in the country and we began the slow process of medication adjustments and logging each seizure.
Michelle: Tonic Clonic

May, 27 04:53
37 seconds
Fell off the bed, wet herself, was able to speak again at 05:07

I’ve become a very light sleeper because of this. Every thump, every strange noise coming from her direction I jump to. I’m by her side each time, making sure she can breathe, she’s not injured, stripping her bed, changing her sheets and making sure she can get up and be cleaned up if necessary.

The only thing I don’t do anymore is panic. I’m well passed that. After all this time I know what’s to be expected. I’m mentally counting the moment I hear a noise whether it’s a seizure or not and all I can do is wait it out. I’m totally helpless when they occur and although I’ve accepted this, I’m nowhere near alright with it. All I can do is what I’m already doing and hope the next medication adjustment is the right one and they stop again.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

A Fate Worse Than Death?

This week I was getting my daughter ready for school and I began to wonder how life would have been if she didn’t have TSC. I realized that next week would have been the week she should have graduated from High School. I imagined how life was going to be. Would she be driving a car now, dating, after school job, touring colleges? So many things that I looked forward to when she was an infant that wouldn’t be, even things I was dreading like partying and friends I didn’t like that ended up being a bad influence on her. I wondered if she would have wanted to live with her mother and want little to do with me, like her brother did last year. I even worried about having the talk and hoping that when it came to sex, she would be responsible. So many things that won’t happen, so many milestones missed and so many bullets dodged. With that said, you would read this as if I described to you that my daughter had died at a young age. But she’s alive and well, currently playing with a toy in the dining room as I write this.
The other day I saw a post on Facebook about vaccinations and autism. Instead of the normal controversy of it being the cause. It said something along the line of, “Is having a child with autism worse than death”? It hit me pretty hard because years ago I resented my daughter and mourned all those expectations I had of her. I was terrified that I would raise her like a child for the rest of her life and everything I had pictured in her life the moment I first held her in my arms, was gone, stolen from us all. Was her condition a fate worse than death?
It took a long time for me to see that it isn’t. I was wrong because I still see her life as what I think it should be. She is still happy, she laughs, she dances, she colors, she has friends and she is loved by so many people.  She has her good days and her bad ones. She is still a moody teenager who is argumentative and sometimes she’ll spend all day in her room. She’s different by how she talks and acts. But past that, she’s still my teenage daughter. I need to be reminded of that sometimes.
There are things that will bother me. The stares, kids laughing at her and most of all people telling me how strong I am for raising her because they don’t know if they would have the strength. Those people make me angry because they are the type that sees a disability as the worst thing to happen.

As I look at her right now while she watched Mulan for the 200th time, I’m just happy I’m  her dad.