epilepsy dad

Category: lifestyle

  • The Night Watch

    The Night Watch

    Every night before he goes to bed, my son takes a handful of pills.

    The pills are the last line of defense that my son has against the unrelenting seizures that constantly lurk on the horizon. Especially at night, when his brain slows down to recuperate from the day, my son’s brain isn’t strong enough to defend itself against attack.

    His medication is meant to strengthen his defenses so that his brain can rest. They are the guards on the parapet defending the residents inside the walls throughout the night. But the gaps in my son’s wall are too wide for the guards to cover. It’s not a question of whether a seizure will break through; it’s how many. It’s how much damage will the attackers do before the sun rises.

    We’ve tried to boost his defenses. New medications. The ketogenic diet. VNS surgery. But none of them have prevented the nightly raids from exacting their toll on his developing brain. Even combined, they are no match for the electrical storm the flows wildly across the neurons and floods the cells.

    It could be worse. It has been worse. Before we knew what this was, the flood nearly took my son. The uncontrolled pulses flowed through the gaps in his natural defenses and eventually breached them entirely, leaving his body frozen and his mind disconnected. We managed to beat back the invader and rebuild. We strengthened the walls. We bolstered the night watch. But our seizure calendar records the history of attacks, painting cells with yellow markers revealing every defeat in long ribbons of sequentially colored squares.

    Every night before he goes to bed, my son takes a handful of pills because there is nothing else to do. We stick to our routine because it is better than the alternative. His pills, his diet, and his VNS play their part. But as he drifts off to sleep, I turn on the monitor and take my post watching over him, too. Because it’s my job on the night watch to be there when his defenses ultimately fail, to comfort him after the attack, and to help him rebuild the next day before we do it all over again.

     

  • Traveling On The Ketogenic Diet

    Traveling On The Ketogenic Diet

    We love to travel, so when we started on the ketogenic diet four years ago, I worried that the diet would close off the world to us. We could still go to Colorado and Florida because we had friends and family there with kitchens. There were also stores where we could buy ingredients for his meals and pharmacies if we ran out of medication. But what about the places where we would be on our own?

    Our first big trip was almost two weeks in Hawaii. I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to find specific ingredients we would need to make food. I also didn’t know if we could find a room with a kitchen, so we prepared as much food as we could to take it with us. It was our first time traveling with a cooler, so I read through the TSA rules to see where they stood on traveling with ice. I researched coolers to find one that would fit enough food but wouldn’t be too big to carry on the airplane. The week before, we made enough food so that we had meals available for the entire trip. The cooler was heavy, but it allowed us to enjoy our trip without worrying about staying in ketosis.

    This year, we went to Panama. At least in Hawaii, there was an ABC Store on every corner. In the remote places we were going to in Panama, that would not be the case. It was also not likely that the closest store would have the specific ingredients we needed. There would also not be a pharmacy to stroll into if we needed a prescription. Again, I hit the internet to read about bringing medication and food internationally. There were no specific restrictions about bringing my son’s food into the country, so we again prepared enough meals to cover the trip plus a few extra days. Even though we were staying in homes with kitchens, making the food ahead of time removed many variables. We also upgraded our cooler to a backpack to make it easier to carry on those long travel days.

    Now, traveling on the ketogenic diet feels routine. We prepare the food ahead of time. We know the routine to pack and get through security. And we no longer worry about the world being closed off to us. If we can make keto work in the mountains of Panama, we can pretty much make it work anyway.

    If you’re looking to travel on keto, here are a few tips:

    1. Find complete meals you can prepare ahead of time. Ideally, it’s also food that can be frozen, like ice cream, pizza, and pancakes (syrup went in checked baggage). Some restaurants will heat food for you, some won’t. Keep that in mind when you plan the meals.
    2. Make sure everything is frozen. Freeze all of the food for the journey and use the blue ice packs to keep everything cool. Make sure the ice packs are frozen, though, because TSA won’t allow them through if they aren’t.
    3. Keep a letter from your doctor handy. If a situation arises where you may need to explain the diet, a letter from your doctor can come in handy.
    4. Don’t forget utensils. Not every segment of your journey will have access to forks and spoons, so bring some with you. Plastic, disposable utensils are best because washing silverware while traveling is not always possible.
    5. Get to the airport early, just in case. We generally get pulled out of line by TSA when they scan the cooler, so having the extra time creates a more stress-free experience.

    My final piece of advice is don’t be afraid to travel. It is a big, amazing world out there with so much to see. The ketogenic diet doesn’t need to prevent you from experiencing it.

    If you have any questions about traveling on the ketogenic diet, feel free to leave a comment or send me a note.

  • Ignoring The Warnings

    This post is part of the Epilepsy Blog Relay™ which will run from March 1 through March 31. Follow along!

    When I was younger, my vision of my future included many things. It included a cabin in Maine where I would write and take my sea kayak out to harvest lobsters from my traps. It included a job where I made a lot of money doing something that I loved. It included traveling around the world, soaking up the sights and flavors of every culture on the planet. And it included a family that would share in these experiences and would enrich my life with their own experiences and dreams.

    Man plans, God laughs. ~Yiddish proverb

    That vision for my future didn’t include a lot of things. It didn’t include the pressure and demands of a job later in my career. It didn’t include the realities that come with having parents who are aging. And it didn’t include the curveball we were thrown when our son was diagnosed with epilepsy.

    The combination of these factors created an environment that tests us every day. The relentless seizures. The widening gap between our son and his peers. The insecurity of our lives. The distance that the exhaustion and pressure create between us.

    There was a movie called “The Perfect Storm” that detailed the account of the Andrea Gail caught at sea during the 1991 “Perfect Storm”, where multiple storms merged to create a super-storm. The crew ignored the warnings about the storm and made choices that took them further from safety. Eventually, underestimating the power of the storm, they turn back into it and the ship is lost.

    Lately, I’ve been feeling like we’re caught in our own storm. I’ve been ignoring the signs and now we’re trapped in the middle of it and the waves are getting bigger. Occasionally, one of us will get thrown overboard but the others pull them back to safety. But there is only so long we can hold out. Eventually, we will get tired. Eventually, the ship will be lost.

    I underestimated the strength of this storm. I thought we were lucky. I thought the seas would calm. I thought we had been through enough. But the storm is not done with us yet.

    The warnings are in front of us.

    It’s time to steer our ship to safety before it’s too late.

    NEXT UP: Be sure to check out the next post by Elaine at livingwellwithepilepsy.com for more on epilepsy awareness. You can check out any of the Epilepsy Blog Relay posts you may have missed.

  • A Movie Script Ending

    A Movie Script Ending

    Our journey with epilepsy has the makings of a movie.

    It has the time before. The time before epilepsy. The time before seizures. The time before medication, and side effects, and surgery.

    It has the inciting event. The first seizure in the lobby of the arcade. The second seizure onboard an airplane. The “ticks” that turned out to be seizures that snowballed into status epilepticus and months in the hospital. The days when my son couldn’t talk or move. The night when my son was surrounded by a team of doctors trying to save his life.

    It has an enemy and its name is Epilepsy.

    It has the struggle. Every day. Early morning seizures. Exhaustion. Navigating the world in a fog. Trying to keep up. Learning. Behavior. Therapy. Rebuilding.

    But it doesn’t have an ending. In the movies, the hero faces challenges, defeats the enemy, and returns home victorious and transformed. But we’re still on the journey and there isn’t a clear path home. Our enemy is one that he could face for a lifetime.

    I started this post years ago. It sat unfinished, but I had an idea of how I would end it.

    Compassionate people reassure us and say some children grow out of their seizures. We smile and nod, but its like they are watching from the seats in the theater but we’ve seen the script. We know what’s going to happen next but don’t want to reveal any spoilers. If they knew the ending, this isn’t a film that most people are going to hang around to see. Because people love a happy ending.

    I wrote that at a time when things were exceedingly hard and relationships with the people around us were being tested. Some of those people are no longer in our lives. But, in spite of how I felt it was going to play out at the time, some people stayed. We’ve gone from feeling as if we were always going to be alone to cherishing what we have. Who we have.

    It is true that our story may not have an ending, but it does have one more thing. The journey revealed many lessons about ourselves and the people around us. It showed us who is in our corner. The struggle forged stronger bonds. The journey has given us allies and surrounded us by our village. Our people. Our family. And we draw so much strength from knowing that we are not on this journey alone.

    “There are no words to express the abyss between isolation and having one ally. It may be conceded to the mathematician that four is twice two. But two is not twice one; two is two thousand times one.” ~GK Chesterton

  • The Sleepover

    The Sleepover

    A few weeks ago, my wife and I spent our first night away together since my son was born. Individually, we’ve been away. I’ve gone on work trips, and my wife has gone to visit family. But we’ve never both been gone for the night and let someone else watch our son.

    In some ways, it wasn’t practical. We don’t have family that lives near us, so leaving him at grandma’s house wasn’t an option. But there is also the reality that our son has seizures almost every night. Spending the night isn’t just about giving him a place to sleep. It’s an active task that involves monitoring him and responding to seizures.

    Our son is never alone. Even sleeping in his bed, we have a camera pointing at him that I watch all night long. When he is in his room playing, we keep a cautious ear listening to what is going on. He receives individual attention at school, and his nanny is substituting for us when we aren’t there.

    That level of involvement is not something that transfers well to someone unaccustomed to that level of care. It’s not something that lends itself to people lining up to take on the responsibility. It’s our every day, but it’s not theirs. I can imagine the conversation with the parents would go something like this:

    As you know, our son has epilepsy. And it’s very likely that he’s going to have a seizure really early in the morning. Probably more than one. The seizures are likely going to wake and frighten your child. And you’ll need to help my son reorient to the world as he comes out of it and make sure he doesn’t fall out of the bed or try to walk around and fall down your stairs.

    [silence]

    If the seizure lasts too long, his rescue medicine is in his overnight bag. The good news is that we haven’t had to use it in a while. The bad news is the delivery mechanism.

    [silence]

    Also, you’ll need to make sure he doesn’t eat or drink anything we don’t send with him. He’s on a medical diet and if he eats anything else he could start having seizures.

    [silence]

    Oh, and don’t let him stay up too late. The more tired he is, the more likely his is to have seizures.

    [silence]

    His medicine is also in his bag. Make sure he takes all of his pills because if he misses any…you guessed it, more seizures.

    [silence]

    Other than that and, I guess, his depression and behavioral side effects of his medicine, I think you’re all set. Ok, goodnight!

    [overwhelming silence]

    I couldn’t burden someone with that responsibility because nothing could prepare them in one night for what has taken us years to adapt to. But I would also spend the night worrying and wondering. It wouldn’t have been a good night for anyone involved.

    I really struggle with the idea that no one else can or will want to take care of our son. But at the same time, I find reasons why no one else should. They don’t know my son. We can’t prepare them for what it is like. What if something happened?

    In the end, our nanny provided the perfect opportunity. She has been working with our son for over a year. She’s seen his seizures during his nap, and she’s helped him manage his behavior and emotions. We trust her to keep him safe. When she agreed to an overnight stay, it felt right.

    Even though it was only one night, it opened my eyes to a new possibility. I’m not going to say that I still didn’t worry or wonder. But coming from a place where I didn’t think it would be possible at all, that first night was huge. It may not have addressed all my fears about the future, but it was a good first step.