epilepsy Archives - Epilepsy Dad

Going Virtual

The fourth grade started so well.

It was the first year where my son had multiple teachers for different subjects, and each of them took a genuine interest in him. They asked how they could best support his learning. They brought us in to talk to the entire grade about epilepsy. We strengthened our relationship with his aide. The new special education teacher showed initiative and commitment by working with the other teachers and us to make sure my son’s IEP was current.

My son seemed to be doing better than last year, too. Even though he had a modified schedule and didn’t need to, he would get up early and be ready for drop-off at the regular time with his friends. He was going to school every day of the week, and we had fewer absences than we’ve had in previous years, too.

Of course, school was still difficult for him. The noise of the classroom and the building triggered his anxiety. The attention issues were still there. He was still drifting further behind academically and socially from the other children. He still worked with his nanny on homework and subjects he missed after he got home and rested. But we found a bit of a groove in fourth grade, more than we had before.

And then the pandemic hit.

For as well as the fourth grade was going in the classroom, it didn’t translate when they closed the schools and moved classes online. My son’s school was not equipped to do online schooling successfully, and they spent the rest of the school year just trying to get through it. There was a lot of homework, a few virtual class sessions, and a lot of busywork. But with the help of our nanny who also went virtual, we figured it out and made it work.

As frustrated as my wife and I was (as were many other parents) with the quality of the “forced virtualization,” my son enjoyed the move to virtual classes. Of course, he missed seeing his friends, and the online sessions didn’t always offer a chance for the kids to interact. But he could take the lessons from the “office” we created in his room. He didn’t have the noise and anxiety that came from going into the physical school surrounded by other students.

While we knew online schools were an option, we didn’t consider them because of my son’s age, and because one of the reasons we sent him to school was for the social aspect. But because of how well he responded to the move to virtual classes during the pandemic, my wife started looking into them as an option for fifth grade.

Initially, I was worried about how they would deliver instruction to an 11-year-old. From what I saw of the virtual classes in his current school, I couldn’t imagine learning anything. But the first thing we picked up on talking to the online school was that it is very different when a school is set up to operate virtually versus a traditional school that is thrown into teaching online.

The online school is also required to accommodate an IEP and might have more flexibility in accommodating my son’s schedule and his need to chunk activities during the day. They have programs in place to help students meet and connect in the real world, too. We’ll have to get creative to continue to develop his social skills, but the in-person meetings will help.

The more we looked into it, the more that it seemed like a good thing to try for fifth grade. Forcing my son to go back to an environment that makes it more difficult for him to learn when there is another option is irresponsible. Besides, we can always go back to the traditional classroom if it doesn’t work out. But, especially with the state of the world and the uncertainty about the fall, all the signs point to trying something different.

If you have any experience with online schooling, I would love to hear about your experiences, good and bad. Feel free to leave a comment or contact me directly.

Where Epilepsy Can’t Find Us

For the last few weeks, we’ve been temporarily living in Maine.

I love living in Philadelphia. But between being confined to the close quarters of a condo and the current tension in the city, we decided we needed space. While we are all working from home, this is also a rare opportunity where home can be wherever there is internet, and that includes the Pine Tree State.

Whenever we go somewhere new, there is a part of me that wonders if it will be the place where epilepsy can’t find us. I wondered when we went back to Colorado. I wondered when we visited my family in Florida. But epilepsy found us in those places. I wondered again when we traveled further…to Hawaii…to Panama. But epilepsy found us there, too.

Still, as we took the 10 hour drive from Philadelphia, there was a part of me that still wondered. It wasn’t a good sign when my son drifted off to sleep in the back seat that a seizure work him from his nap. But we weren’t yet in Maine, though, so there was still hope.

As we pulled in to the driveway of the house we rented, I had a good feeling. The house was on a peninsula, surrounded by water on three sides. There were steps down to a rocky shore from the front of the house and a path down to a big, sandy beach from the back. There was a big yard for baseball, and trees blocking the view of any neighbors. We were secluded. Hidden. The sun was out. There was air…cool, salty, fresh air. Our getaway had everything we were looking for, and maybe the right ingredients to keep any seizures away, too.

When the first seizure came the next day, I chalked it up to exhaustion. The long drive and the late night exploring the house were the likely causes, and that shouldn’t be held against Maine. The seizures the next night were obviously caused by the long day spent in the water, fishing and finding shells and crabs. Our bodies just weren’t acclimated yet, so those seizures shouldn’t count, either.

But by the third day, and the fourth, and most days since, I haven’t been able to explain away the seizures. They happen after we are outside on a sunny day or after relaxing inside on a wet, foggy day. They happen after we go exploring and after we hang out watching a movie.

They happen because my son has intractable epilepsy.

Wherever we go, we won’t be able to hide from epilepsy because we take it with us. We pack it up like the bottles of seizure medication and the special ingredients for my son’s ketogenic diet. It finds room in the car no matter how little space is left after we tightly pack our belongings.

But even though I want to write a post like this every time we go to a new place, trying to hide from epilepsy is not the reason we travel and have adventures. We do them because our son is a fearless explorer. We do them because we can. We do them because we won’t let epilepsy and seizures limit the experiences we can give to our son.

There is nowhere we can go where epilepsy can’t find us.

But we will not let it stop us.

Different Dreams

I don’t remember ever having dreams of what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had friends who wanted to be cowboys, or baseball players, or astronauts when they were children. As they matured, they wanted to be doctors, or lawyers, or police officers. And I once knew a person who dreamed of being a circus performer, which might seem weird, but I knew him in a city that had a “clown college.” But I don’t remember having dreams of my own. I knew someday that I would be older, but I didn’t know what I wanted to be doing when that day arrived.

After we moved to Florida in my mid-teens, I got it in my head that I wanted to be a marine biologist. It seemed like a good fit. I spent most of my summers when I was younger in the water, catching fish and crabs. I wasn’t afraid to pick up the random sea creatures that I’d come across. And, most importantly, a girl that I had a major crush on also wanted to be a marine biologist and she agreed to be my lab partner because of this newly developed common interest.

I would have made an excellent marine biologist. Ignore the fact that I won’t go in water that is below 80 degrees. Ignore the fact that I’m more of a sinker than a swimmer. Ignore the fact that I don’t like being cold and wet. Ignore the fact that I get seasick. If you ignore all the things that are in the job description that involves being in or on the water, I would have been great.

So, I signed up for a marine biology class in high school and sat across the room, watching my romantic interest instead of the fish. But she was watching the fish, but also started seeing one of the popular kids. As a result, my interest in her began to wane, and, coincidentally, so did my interest in becoming a marine biologist.

My son, however, has known since he was born that he wanted to be a hockey player. He and I started playing hockey together before he could walk, and his love for the sport has only grown. Over the years, he’s added careers like a baseball player and professional video gamer. But they have been “in addition to” never “instead of.” Even now, at ten years old, he’s waiting for the call from the Colorado Avalanche or the Vegas Golden Knights to tell him they need him, and we’ll be on a plane.

To help him pursue that dream, I took him to skating lessons starting when he was two. At four, we added the hockey classes. The look on his face when he got his first official jersey is etched in my mind.

But then, just before his fifth birthday, he had his first seizure.

The first seizure didn’t adjust his course, but the second one did. And the third. And the three months in the hospital battling status. And the exhaustion and side effects of the medication. For more than two years, we struggled to get him back on the ice. We’d play hockey in the basement, but the level of exertion necessary to be on the ice and playing hockey was too much. We’d try a few classes, and his body would shut down for days. During one class, he had a seizure. The fighter that he is, he got right back up and tried to participate, but we needed to keep him off the ice for his safety until we could figure something out.

We added tee-ball and baseball since those sports were easier to manage breaks and his level of effort. He is good at baseball, and he likes it, but he keeps asking about hockey. He has a friend who has been playing for a few years now, and I can hear it when he talks about his friend that he wishes it was him on the ice instead. But it isn’t. And the reality is that I don’t know if it ever will be.

The reality is that my son’s seizures are still not under control. The reality is that the more he pushes himself, physically and mentally, the more exhausted he gets, and the more seizures he has, which perpetuates the cycle. No one can tell us if that will ever get any better, so we’ve tried to structure his life in a way where he gets the most out of it while minimizing the impact of his epilepsy. But the thing that he loves the most, the thing he’s dreamed about all his life, is the thing we haven’t figured out how to give back to him.

I never had dreams when I was younger, so I don’t feel any remorse or regret for where I wound up. I think I am where I am supposed to be, with the family I love and a job in a field that I’m good at and find rewarding. Looking back, the choices that I made, even subconsciously, all aligned on a clear path to here.

I believe the same will happen for my son. He will be where he is supposed to be. But I’ve always wanted to give him every opportunity to succeed, every opportunity to explore every possibility, and to feel supported every step of the way. Part of my purpose is giving that to him, and doing everything I can to help him achieve his dreams.

It breaks my heart to think that I may need to tell him that he needs to have different dreams.