epilepsy dad

Tag: epilepsy

  • 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.

     

  • The In-Between

    The In-Between

    We were in Colorado recently and saw some friends we haven’t seen in over a year. The school year has also started, and we’re seeing parents and children that we haven’t seen all summer. In both cases, people are seeing our lives at specific points in time. They’re seeing us then and now, but they don’t see us in the in-between.

    The in-between is where the highs and the lows are. It’s where the daily struggles of living with epilepsy are visible. It’s where the seizures feel like they never end. It’s where there are long stretches of days that seem impossible and where sometimes hope is lost.

    The in-between is also where small accomplishments seem enormous and where incremental progress seems like leaps and bounds. It’s where not going backward is sometimes as good as moving forward. It’s where a baseball game feels like the World Series and where climbing a rock wall feels like summiting Everest.

    The in-between is where every challenge and victory brings us closer together as a family. It’s where we shape our perspective. And it’s where our actions and how we approach the world shows how far we’ve come.

    The in-between is where we live. The in-between is our every day.

     

     

  • 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.

  • The Lucky Ones

    The Lucky Ones

    It’s been five years since my son’s first seizure. He still seizes on most days. The side effects of the seizures and the medications take their toll on his brain and his body. He can’t do all the things he wants to do, and he sometimes struggles with the things that he can do.

    It’s been hard.

    But other people have it worse.

    Are we the lucky ones?

    Taking handfuls of pills every day to keep seizures under control isn’t lucky, but we have access to healthcare and can afford his medication.

    Falling behind at school isn’t lucky, but he goes to school.

    Having behavioral issues isn’t lucky, but they are rarer than they were.

    Managing mental and physical fatigue every day isn’t lucky, but he can walk and talk and play baseball.

    Having seizures every day isn’t lucky, but my son is still here.

    There is always someone somewhere that has it worse.  That’s the trap of comparing one’s situation to another. But minimizing our anger and frustration and pain doesn’t make them go away. It doesn’t make my son’s seizures go away, either. It just takes me away from my feelings and makes me feel guilty for having them.

    We’re not lucky because his situation is better than someone else’s. There is nothing lucky about epilepsy and what my son is going through.

    But I do feel lucky.

    I feel lucky because he’s my son.

  • What It Means To Be An Epilepsy Dad

    This post is part of the Epilepsy Blog Relay™. Follow along all month!

    Father’s Day was last Sunday.

    I woke up early, like I do on most Sundays, and went for a run. When I returned, I was greeted to my favorite sound in the world when my son said “Hi, Daddy. Happy Father’s Day!” as he handed me a card that he made himself and a big hug.

    Being a father is the most amazing experience of my life. It’s also the hardest, most fun, most frustrating, most rewarding, and scariest experiences of my life. I feel the pressure to give my son a very different childhood than I had and, most days, I feel ill-equipped to do so, but I am trying.

    Adding to the challenge of just being a good father is being the father to a child with special needs. Even if there were a manual called How To Be a Good Dad, it’s the equivalent to trying to read that book in the dark. Every intention, every plan, every expectation went out the window and I had to start again looking through a very different lens.

    This July, it will have been five years since my son’s first seizure. It will have been five years since I started looking at the world through that different lens. And it will have been five years of living a very different life than I thought I would.

    I’m not just a father. I’m an epilepsy dad.

    When I became an epilepsy dad, I started this blog so that I could share my experiences navigating this new world. Five years in, here are a few of the things I’ve learned:

    I may never know why this happened. I’m an engineer, a problem solver. I’m used to finding the reason why something is broken so that I can fix it. After countless scans and genetic testing, there is no identifiable reason why my son has seizures. But not knowing why and living in denial doesn’t change the fact that he has epilepsy.

    It doesn’t matter why this happened. There is nothing that I could have done differently. Even if there was, there is no way to go back and change it. Looking backward and wondering why takes me away from the present, from my son, and from our future.

    It may never go away. My son has refractory epilepsy, which means that even though we’ve tried a lot of different medications, he still has seizures. He is on the ketogenic diet and he has a VNS and he still has seizures. It is the most helpless feeling to know that there is nothing that I can do to fix this for him and that his seizures may never go away.

    Plans change. I think as parents we all have grand plans for our children when they are born. But as our kids get older and discover what they want, those plans change. This is no different, even though I want to be mad at epilepsy and blame it for the changes. My son was always going to find his own path and, in some way, epilepsy will influence his course. But that is not a reason to give up on the future. It’s a reason to accept that plans change to support him on his journey of discovery, which is what a good parent should do, anyway.

    There is a lot to be grateful for. Five years ago, we almost lost our son when the doctors couldn’t get his seizures under control. The pressure and fear and anger that I have felt in the last five years placed a strain on my relationships and on my marriage. But today, my son plays baseball and makes me the most amazing cards on Father’s Day. My wife and I are closer now than we have been in a long time. The situation hasn’t changed, but we have and I am grateful every day that we are together.

    You can’t be an epilepsy dad without being a dad. At the end of the day, I’m still his dad. We still have fun, and laugh, and joke, and have pillow fights right before trying to take a nap. I still need to teach him good values and show him how to be a good person. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the worry and the diagnosis and the future but that shouldn’t take away from being a dad first. Because, especially with all the complexity that life has thrown at us, that is what he needs from me the most.

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