GivingTuesday

smiles

CPNJ / Horizon High School asked us to make a donation on #GivingTuesday and to take an “UNselfie” sharing what inspired us to donate.

“What does Jack do at school?” is a question I’m often asked. I usually answer, “Jack does what every other 16 year-old boy does – he hangs with his peeps and flirts with pretty girls.”

In fact, Jack does a lot more at Horizon High School. He gets therapy (PT, OT, and Speech). He has classes in Science, Career Skills, Social Studies, Language Arts, Life Skills, Drama, World Cultures, Art, Music, Technology, and Math. He works at the school store. He participates in modified sports. He attends dances and parties and plays. He goes on field trips to Trader Joes to practice “appropriate behaviors” (although I think that might be more hanging and flirting).

After The PG Chambers School we were concerned that we wouldn’t find a good fit for our boy as he entered his high school years. There are no schools for ALD boys post transplant – no schools designed for handsome young men who understand inappropriate humor but can’t speak or reliably use the bathroom. We did find several schools that could handle Jack’s needs but Horizon had something that the others were missing. They approach school the way that Jack approaches life – with GUSTO!

Cerebral Palsy of New Jersey (CPNJ) runs programs for people of all ages with all sorts of “complicated” issues. And, they treat each of those people with respect and devotion. Monica (Jack’s one/one aide and a friend) often sends home pictures of Jack during the day. Whether it’s him in the classroom, planting in the garden, or rockin’ out at a dance party he always has a huge smile on his face. THANK YOU CPNJ FOR CONTINUING THE SMILES!

http://www.cpnj.org/givingtuesday

Love, Jess

The “C” word.

sdtcollege

Lately we’ve been reminding our daughter, Anna, to leave all her doors open as she approaches adulthood. Strong grades, long lasting relationships, healthy habits — these are the things that can keep those doors open, leaving her with as many opportunities as possible. Jack had most of his doors shut before his ninth birthday. These lost opportunities have been huge focus for me the last couple of weeks.

Jack’s smile is usually enough to melt any feelings of sadness or frustration over what Adrenoleukodystophy (ALD) has done to our family. Jealousy seems to be harder to dissolve. Jealousy is the latest emotion in my journey toward acceptance.

When Jack was first diagnosed, we were thrown a pile of statistics and quickly learned how lethal ALD can be. The more advanced the disease at diagnosis, the worse the outcome. Loss of speech, vision, and hearing are almost expected and mobility is the next to go. All these possibilities seemed manageable as long as we didn’t lose our boy. And, we didn’t – we brought Jack home 79 days after his transplant and he managed to walk from our dented silver minivan to our front door. He was able to see the “Welcome Home” signs filling the front yard and hear the cheers of his friends as he arrived. We were lucky and I swore I’d never complain.

I’ve kept my promise — mostly. Dan, my mother, and my best friends know the ugly truth that I’m not always the picture of acceptance and joy. I do have my moments of anger and resentment and do sometimes yell, “Why the $%^& did this happen to us?!?!?!” Usually these moments are brief and can be calmed with a glass of wine or a strong hug. And, until recently, they’ve been sporadically sprinkled over an otherwise positive mood.

Lately, I’ve noticed a reoccurring knot in my stomach and a hard lump in my throat. Sometimes it’s followed by the need to leave a conversation quickly, and the want for a long walk or time alone in my room. It took a while to identify this feeling as jealousy and to figure out what was triggering it. After some soul searching, I’ve discovered the source of my uneasiness — college.

College is suddenly the topic of choice in our middle age, suburban circle. Jack’s peers are starting to prepare for their next chapter and they’re doing it without him. They’re visiting schools, planning their futures, and soon they’ll be heading off to their next adventure. All while Jack will be here with us in Maplewood (forever the dependent child). I’m jealous that our boy is faced with so many closed doors,  is not working on his college portfolio AND that Dan and I are not planning our empty-nest phase.

Typical Jesse, I keep finding myself knee deep in these conversations, as if the outcome is going to miraculously change. That it won’t bring me back to Jack and his lack of need for SAT prep and college essays. It’s ripping open the scab that I thought had fully healed, but I keep on asking the questions, “Where are you applying?” “Are you thinking a big state school or something smaller?” “How’s your SAT prep going? Have you found a good tutor?”. The truth is that I want to know. These are kids that I love and I am excited about all of their opportunities. I want to know every detail of their process. It’s also a way for me to prepare for Anna’s next steps as a student (writing those words brings that lump back).

So – when will I get over this latest bout of jealousy/anxiety? Sometimes writing it down helps me reach the end more quickly. Somehow it takes a little of the poison out of the situation. And, I know that acknowledging the problem is always a good first step.

Our local friends/neighbors are now going to panic that they need to steer clear of the “C” word for my benefit. Actually, I think it’s better if they do the opposite. The more I hear the word “college” the better. I need to get passed this or the next few years are going to be miserable!!
Love, Jess

Jack-O is . . . a punk rocker!

Jack left for school this morning with a big smile on his face and a large mohawk on his head. By all accounts he rocked his way through the halls of Horizon High School and returned home with the “Most Creative Costume” award.

Any time you are feeling sorry for Jack and his complicated life, look at this picture.

jackrocker2

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Love, Jess

Keegan

Keegan

Last Friday I found myself at the veterinarians office explaining to the woman behind the desk that NOTHING could happen to Keegan, “Seriously. He’s not just my son’s assistance dog, he’s family.

Keegan is an exceptionally well-trained dog but, as we were told again and again in team training (the 2 week boot camp Jack and I attended before bringing Keegan home), dogs are dogs and we need to make sure they don’t get into anything they shouldn’t. I lost my focus last week and Keegan ate a “foreign object”.

At first I didn’t think too much about it. Finn (our pet dog who also goes by the name “Bad Dog”) eats things all the time and he’s managed to live longer than his breeder promised — I mean, estimated. But, when Keegan started vomiting I took him directly to his veterinarian. X-rays and sonograms determined that he’d done a number on his stomach but he’d managed to expel the majority of the the object and he should pass the remainder. He was given IV fluids and we were sent home with special food and instructions to closely monitor him and sort threw his elimination. I assured his doctors that I was well versed in both monitoring and elimination.

“Monitoring” translated into lots of middle of the night check ins, and “sorting through his elimination” was especially interesting with limited sleep. It was a tough few days before he bounced back, but we were willing to do anything for Keegan. I  knew how important he was for Jack, but until last week I hadn’t appreciated how important our furry friend is to our entire family. He keeps me company while Jack’s at school. He’s my walking partner and my sounding board. He knows all of Anna’s secrets. He allows Dan and I to sleep comfortably, knowing that Jack has his buddy cuddling next to him in bed. And, Keegan warms all of our hearts with his ability to entice people into approaching Jack – people otherwise intimidated by his quirkiness.

I’m often asked what Keegan does as an assistance dog and I’ve always answered with the same explanation, “He’s Jack’s best friend – his constant companion”. Now I know that Keegan is much more than Jack’s dog; he belongs to all of us. He’s a big, hairy piece of duct tape.

Love, Jess

If you would like to learn more about assistance dogs (or make a donation), please check out http://www.cci.org

Thank you Jack

jackcouch

Everyone has challenges. We’re all burdened with regrets from our past, struggles in the present and concerns for the future. Often burying ourselves under a pile of worries. While I’m not suggesting that any of us has the ability to walk away from our pile, sometimes it’s important to put things in perspective and live in the moment.

I’ve been feeling a little stuck lately. Overwhelmed by everything from finances to parenting challenges to what to make for dinner. Yesterday, I was sitting with a stack of bills in the den and found myself watching Jack and wishing that his mood were contagious.

Jack was sitting on the couch watching a movie with one hand resting on Keegan and the other firmly in his mouth (he’s a chewer). His expression was one of pure joy. JOY is Jack’s usual expression. His mouth falls naturally upward and his eyes literally glow. Whether he’s watching television, eating or spending time with friends, Jack is completely present and happy. Although he can’t speak, Jack clearly understands everything around him. Spend an afternoon (or even a meal) with him and you will see that he is following every bit of the conversation. And, don’t let his juvenile behaviors trick you. Jack is a 16-year-old boy – he likes loud music, pretty girls and fart jokes.

As I watched Jack yesterday, I marveled at his beautiful and relaxed expression. His life is complicated but he always manages to find his peace. It occurred to me yesterday that his challenges provide him the excuse (that’s not really the right word, but you get the idea) of not needing to worry about things like paying bills, making dinner or doing homework. His sole responsibility is to live. He has a solid team caring for his needs allowing him to simply enjoy each moment. He knows that his sister will find him a good movie to watch, food will be provided when he is hungry and he will be changed if his clothes get wet.

While I have my pile of worries, I realized yesterday that, like Jack, I’m surrounded by a team to help manage my pile. I can’t rely on my team to do everything, but I don’t need to do any of it alone. Suddenly, I felt my shoulders relax, I put down the bills, announced that we were ordering in dinner, grabbed a pillow and found a spot on the couch next to my boy.

Next time you’re feeling overwhelmed, stop by and spend a little time with Jack. I can promise you that you will walk away feeling a little lighter. It’s like yoga without all the stretching.

Namaste

Love, Jess

Bad Aunt

adain

I woke up on Sunday morning under a cozy down comforter. I was in a quiet guestroom feeling quite wonderful (far better than the previous morning – long story – don’t ask). Such a luxury to wake up to no alarm, licking dog or smelly diaper. I just threw on some sweatpants, brushed my teeth and strolled downstairs to enjoy the company of old friends and greasy sausage. It was a great end to a perfect weekend.

The relaxation managed to linger with me the first couple days of this week. It wasn’t until today that I realized that things fall through the cracks when I lose my structure.

Generally I’m pretty organized. Not if you look at the piles on my desk (or behind the sofa in the living room), but if you peek around my house the beds are made, the closets are arranged, and dishes are never left in the sink. I need to credit Maria and Lilly (babysitting/housekeeping/duct tape) for some of the organization, but even without their help our home is fairly structured.

I need this structure. Without it I get lost. I’m someone who get’s easily distracted and if my environment becomes chaotic, I start to fall apart. I can’t concentrate on making dinner if the fridge is overflowing, I can’t get dressed if the bedroom floor is littered with garments and I can’t remember anything without the help of my screens.

Thanks to Apple I’ve managed to create a life that is tightly managed through my imac, iphone and ipad. I start each day by turning off my alarm and opening my icalendar. I rarely miss a thing.

Until Sunday.

Without my trusty screens, I missed my nephew’s, birthday. I didn’t call or send a note. I didn’t even remember to put a shout-out on Facebook. Worst Aunt EVER!

Now, looking at my icalender I’m noticing I also missed an appointment with a plumber – or did he forget – and I forgot to send a writing assignment to my writing group. Is it possible that one weekend away totally messed up my structure?

Love, Jess

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AIDAN! You are an incredible young man and I adore you!!