All Good

He’s fine.

Good as new.

All smiles.

These are the answers I’ve been giving all week as people have reached out. Social media spread the word that our boy landed in the hospital over the weekend and people were worried.

We were so confused that Dan and I didn’t really have much time to worry.

Over the last 6 weeks Jack’s had many sick days. Some cold symptoms, a few vomit days and random spiking fevers. We managed to keep everything under control thanks to stress dosing his steroids and over-the-counter medication. We did take him to the doctor’s office a couple of times and also visited the local urgent care, but nobody seemed particularly worried. They ruled out the usual suspects – COVID, Flu, Strep and finally prescribed a round of antibiotics which we gave him and it seemed to resolve whatever was going on.

Then Jack spiked another fever last Thursday. We called his doctor who asked us to come in for some bloodwork. The results led to a call no parent wants. We were told to go to the ER. Now. Something was wrong. We were told his white blood count was 32 — dangerously high.

Dan and I didn’t pause. I guess it’s some sort of muscle memory that takes over when you’ve been a hospital parent. We went to the ER, described his symptoms, and started educating everyone about ALD. They started running tests – bloodwork, urinalysis, x-ray, CAT scan. As the hours ticked by, the doctors ruled out a ton of things, but by the afternoon they all agreed that we needed to be admitted, “Just to be safe”.

By this point Jack was feeling great. His fever was gone, and he was really enjoying his time with doctors and nurses and a marathon of Friends. He didn’t seem the least bit upset by the news that we were being admitted. Dan and I were less than excited.

Sleeping in a chair is not something I’ve missed. Neither are the bells and whistles constantly signaling on a hospital floor. But, getting news over and over that test results were normal kept us together.

They sent us home on Saturday afternoon with no answers. The hope is that whatever it was self-resolved. We do have an appointment with an infectious disease doctor in a couple of weeks, just to be safe.

So Folks – Jack is fine. Good as new. All smiles.

And, please cross your fingers that I haven’t somehow jinxed us by writing this☺️🤞🫣🤞

Love, Jess

I Cry — Anticipating a Call on Anticipory Grief

I know I have the reputation of being positive. I am a “glass half full” person by nature and I can usually find the bright side of any dark situation, but I do cry. I cry a lot. I cry … Continue reading

ALD Family Weekend!

I realize I haven’t written in a while. Work is one excuse and we had JackO fighting a monster cold/flu thing for a couple of weeks. Luckily, he’s good as new. I promise to fill everyone in on everything JACK … Continue reading

Proud and Sad — Mostly PROUD

I got one of those Facebook memories yesterday morning. I almost scrolled by it — there was no picture to capture my attention — but then I glanced at the words.

11 years ago, I was worried (even sad) about Anna. It wasn’t fair that her life had been touched — sometimes torched — by what ALD had done to her brother. BUT I was so proud of her and how she approached her life. 

Although her life was different than most of her peers, she had a pile of extraordinary friends who surrounded her with love and fun and were all amazing to Jack. She was already an exceptional student and athlete. And, even at 12, Anna had an independent streak that presented itself often. If she had a goal, she would make it happen — when she wanted to make some extra money, she found herself babysitting work and even organized (with dear Caroline) a lacrosse camp for some younger kids in town. She was a kid who would paint her own room. I believe middle school were the “Tiffany Blue” years.

But Dan and I DID worry about Anna back them. We would discuss if she was feeling too much pressure to achieve. Was she feeling that she needed to do enough to make up for what Jack couldn’t do? We wondered if her motivation and good attitude would continue.

They did.

I am NOT a believer in “everything happens for a reason” or “Life only gives you what you can handle”. I’ve witnessed too much tragedy to believe that nature is fair or that there is some sort of master plan that makes sense.

What I do believe in is the internal power we all have. The power to make choices. The power to lean into uncomfortable feeling and find hope during dark times. AND – if you’re Anna – you have the power to look a disease that has harmed someone you love and instead of cursing it, work to be a person that helps put an end to it.

Anna is not sure what she will specialize in, and we are NOT pressuring her to work in the ALD space – although we do discuss it . . . often. No matter what she decides to focus on, she will be amazing. We are so proud of our girl. Sometimes we worry (even still get sad), but we are always proud.

Love, Proud. Momo

2024 — It’s complicated

2023 was a year.

I can’t call it bad or good. There was loss — deep loss that I still can’t truly wrap my brain around (and just last week, we lost another beautiful human who was taken too soon). We’ve also had some other tough challenges, but I always try to focus on the positive and there were some glorious positives.

Anna started medical school at her top choice. The added benefit of having her return to the tri-state is a bonus that we all cherish. Jack enjoyed his new routine where he gets added time with his other mothers and their families. Dan is still in the crypto world and has been on an incredible health journey that has us all motivated to follow suite. My work has taken off and I’m grateful for being trusted to do the work that I’m doing. We also travelled – between the 4 of us NJ Torreys we had adventures in Block Island, Colorado, Tennessee, Massachusetts, Puerto Rico, California, Seattle, Canada, Texas, Maine, and Florida.

As we rang in the new year, we cheered, but we also recognized that welcoming a new year is complicated. 

There’s plenty to worry about for 2024 – Our home always has concerns about health, and we have some friends and family struggling with their own list of concerns. Then there is the upcoming election, unrest around the world, and our planet showing signs of an unhealthy lifestyle.           

BUT there’s also a lot of potential beauty upcoming for 2024. My work will continue to grow, and I’m excited about adding more training (EMDR is on the calendar). Dan will continue to be our role model for health and wellness. Anna will learn even more about things that I will never be able to understand . . . or spell . . . or pronounce. JackO will charm more folks and laugh at more jokes. We have trips planned to Mexico, Austria and Croatia. AND our country could make some wonderful choices, tensions around the world could ease, wars may end. 

I choose to be hopeful.

As we welcome this new year, I hope that you are all ready for some new adventures, exciting challenges, quality time with people you love AND hoping you also choose to be hopeful.

HaPpY NeW yEaR!!!!

Love, Jess

remembering to pause

I spend a lot of time encouraging my clients to pause. Pausing to take a deep breath before they face something challenging. Pausing as they consider their next move. Pausing to enjoy the sunset, a hug from their child, a … Continue reading

A complicated, painful and beautiful weekend

It started last Thursday morning with another fall. Who knows if it was ALD or just stupidity. We’re all guilty of doing stuff that we know we shouldn’t, right? 

Dan had Jack in the shower as I was rushing around trying to get ready for the day – making Jack’s breakfast, setting up his morning medication, getting dressed, prepping for my morning clients, and changing the battery on the outdoor Ring camera.

I had a minute before Jack would be done with his shower and I looked around to see what else I could check off my list. You can picture me as I raced to the back yard and was happy to see that there was already a chair sitting right there below the camera mounted on the side of the house. It did occur to me that the chair had been removed from our outdoor table because it was old and unsteady . . . 

I climbed up on the chair and was able to slip in the new batteries before the chair wiggled. I lost my footing, landed on the slate and felt a loud crack. My tail bone hit first followed by my head smashing backwards.

Within an hour I had the results of a CAT scan with a determination that there was no brain bleed but likely would have a concussion. I was told, “Spend the next few days resting. No screens and not too much thinking”.

Not a great weekend to limit my thinking.

Dan and I were heading out the next day to attend the memorial service for a friend I’ve held dear since childhood. I needed to be there. I needed to celebrate her life and be surrounded with her family and old friends. I also needed to be with two of my best friends– the four of us have shared memories from every part of our lives. Mourning with them in person was something I couldn’t miss.

With Dan’s help, after spending as much time as I could in the dark (trying not to think), I got in the car Friday afternoon. I reclined the passenger seat and closed my eyes until we got there. The weather seemed as upset as we were. What should have been a three-hour drive took us six hours.

By the time we made it to our rental we were exhausted but being able to hug my friends (and their wonderful husbands) seemed to make me feel healed.

The next day we arrived at the same chapel where we celebrated our friend’s wedding 20 years ago. It sits just across the street from the home she treasured (and we had all snuck out of at least once). So odd when a place feels so familiar and so foreign at the same time. So many memories, but her bright smile had always been in the center. How can she be gone?

The service was beautiful — Just as she had asked for. Friends and family sharing beautiful words about a beautiful human. Each eulogy seemed to build on the last. All highlighting her incredible strengths. All sharing stories of her kindness and bright smile and her deep love of her two magnificent children. Each also shared her love of the sun and the ocean and her never missing an opportunity to dive in.

Sunday morning, we took a trip to her favorite beach and half the crew dove into the water. 

I did not go into the water. I had a pile of excuses at the ready, but I didn’t really need one. She knew that cold water and stony beach bottoms may not be my thing, but that I dive into life plenty (a gift taught to me by my JackO). I will continue to dive into life with her memory in my heart. I will, however, not stand on any more old chairs.

I felt her presence all weekend long. I’m grateful that my head and body allowed me to be present and now I’m back to being as careful as I can be. 

I have been hesitant to share my friend’s name. I think I’ve been scared that it would make it too real. 

It is real.

Lisabeth Mohlere Harris

Lizmo 

7/31/69 – 8/4/2023

Love, Jess

Thank you Neris for helping us with Jack on Thursday so that I could get medical care. Thank you Dan for being my driver, therapist, and nurse — this weekend and always. Thank you Kater and Bid for being lifelong friends. AND thank you Lizmo for being in my life.

Missing you Lizmo. Trying to remember you with smiles, not tears.

when everything falls into place

Seven years ago, I got a direct message from someone on Facebook. She explained she was a mom of a boy with ALD and a founding member of the board of an organization called ALD Connect. Apparently, she had just spent her flight to their annual meeting reading Smiles and Duct Tape.

“You need to join the community.”

I remember thinking that it was cool that my book – which had just been published – had landed in ALD hands.

Within a year I was attending conferences and learning more than I ever imagined about the disease that had infiltrated our family. I was speaking at conferences, helping organize a peer mentor program and facilitating monthly community calls.

When I asked myself several years ago what I wanted my next chapter to look like, I knew I wanted to do more of what I was doing within the ALD community. More within the community and more helping others who were struggling with acceptance/anxiety/depression. I reached out to the same woman who had sent me that message all those years ago (by now a dear friend) and asked her to write me a letter of recommendation for graduate school to study counseling for mental health and wellness.

That was three years ago.

Yesterday I had a full day seeing clients ranging from 10-years-old to 92-years-old and ended the day honored to be facilitating ALD Connect’s first session of The Mental Health Community Call.

While I was busy with my new life, Dan was out in the crypto world, Anna was at a Yankee game — celebrating after her first round of medical school exams, and Jack was with his “other family” where he happily spends a least one night a week.

I went to sleep last night doing an exercise that I often recommend to my clients. “As you close your eyes at the end of the day, think of three things that went well today”. I didn’t stop at three and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

It’s easy to recognize when things aren’t going well and important to give value when things do. I’m grateful for this moment where life just seems to make sense. Lord knows there will be other challenges ahead, but it sure feels good right now. 

Thank you Kathleen for sending that note and starting all this AND for the letter of recommendation AND for trusting me to help our community AND for being you!

Love, Jess

ALD folks — join the call next month. It’s a great addition to The ALD Connect community calls!

It Got ME!

I’ve done a good job of hiding for three and a half years. It’s come close to finding me before, but I’ve managed to keep it at bay. I thought I was still being careful, but I guess I let my guard down. I’m not sure if it snuck into me when we were at the Yankee game last Sunday or maybe it was hiding on the nice young man who was selling solar panels last week. Either way COVID landed and found a temporary home in me last Tuesday.

It started with what seemed like a stomach bug. A blessing really – not just a jumpstart to my fall diet, but the stomach bug is an illness that makes us react quickly (years ago, Jack had one massive seizure and it was triggered by a stomach flu). So, last Tuesday, as soon as my stomach started churning, I raced upstairs and crawled into the guest room where I stayed for days and days. The vomiting turned to a fever and aches which then turned into a runny nose and cough. By Saturday I started venturing down for visits with the family around the pool but I’m still wearing a mask and sleeping upstairs. I’m following every protocol that the CDC has – I don’t want either of my boys getting this gem. My clients are all virtual this week and Jack and Dan have been on their own for meals and dog care and laundry. 

It’s the second time in less than a year that Dan has needed to take over without warning. In October I broke a rib which ended up being a solid eight-week recovery. This won’t be nearly that long, but I can’t express how grateful I am to be married to a guy that doesn’t miss a beat.

Thank you DanO for everything you do. And, JackO I promise that Mom will be back to herself and mask free on Friday!!!

Stay healthy folks!!!

Love, Jess

The word AND and the word ONWARD

This week has been a good reminder that life is often full of the word AND. You can be struggling AND be successful. You can be proud of someone AND disappointment in them. You can be full AND eat the entire pint of Ben and Jerrys. You can have joy in your life AND sorrow. 

Our lives are always filled with ANDs, but this week joy AND sorrow have collided in a way that’s been unsettling.

We’ve been hit with the loss of a dear friend that has us all feeling shattered. A friend from my childhood – more of a sister really. Someone who knew me before I was me. We were part of each other’s families – our histories. She had a way of making the world seem brighter. Dan loved her too and of course so did Jack and Anna because this beautiful person was one of those people that everyone loved.

We’d been bracing for her loss, but you can never really be ready to hear the news that the world has lost a human that you treasure. 

We got the call that she was gone as I was setting up for Jack’s birthday party. Jack turned 25 last weekend. Seemed inappropriate to be celebrating but how could we not? Jack is 25 and doing great and beat so many odds. So, we plastered on some smiles, went through the motions, and got through the party. I felt a little guilty at one point when I found myself laughing with his other mothers. 

Am I allowed to be happy when part of my heart is missing?

Today we have another occasion to celebrate. Anna has started medical school and has her white coat ceremony. We’re returning to Washington Heights where we lived that summer of 2007, but this time we’re going to start a new chapter as Anna works towards being Dr. Banana. Again, I’m feeling strange — almost guilty — trying on dresses and making dinner reservations, but what choice do I have?

Life isn’t fair and I can’t really appreciate that it makes sense in any way. But, I will deal with all the ANDs and keep on moving forward. My friend used the word ONWARD a lot this last year.

Nothing I’ve done this week has been without my friend at the top my mind. She was a beautiful person, but she also had a way of calling me on my billshit. The last time we spoke, she held my hand and we reminisced about our long history. I was a mess and she told me I needed to be strong and to remember her with a smile, not tears. I promised her I would, but it might take a little time.

ONWARD!

For now, I will feel sorrow AND joy. As I get ready to watch my daughter receive her white coat, I have tears in my eyes AND a smile on my face. I will wear something fabulous – my friend had impeccable taste and told me that I needed to break up with StichFix or “at least up your budget and go do some real shopping”. Today I will wipe away my tears and cheer on Banana as I sit with family, including my 25 year old son.

ONWARD!

Love you Friend. You are so missed and always will be. I’m trying to be strong but can’t promise there will not be tears — they are sneaking out without much notice. But, behind the tears there are so many wonderful memories and there will always be a smile when I think of you.

ONWARD!

Love, Jess

Photos will follow at a later date. I have limited energy dealing with the ANDs.