“Good morning”, Jack said with a big smile on his face as I walked into his room at 7:00 am. If you don’t know Jack, you might not have heard the words, but Jack speaks pretty loudly if you know … Continue reading
Dan and I had a birthday celebration last night (Happy Birthday Bid) and couldn’t attend CPNJ Horizon High School’s Annual Tricky Tray. At first, we thought that Jack would need to skip the fun event, but Jack’s other moms didn’t want our boy to miss out. Jack got to spend last night eating, drinking (I’m sure it was juice) and winning baskets, thanks to his three other mothers — Maria, Lilly and Monica.
Knowing that Jack would be surrounded by his other mothers, made me happy. I knew that Jack would have a wonderful night and be safe and well cared for.
These three women are the reason that THIS mother is sane. I love you ladies!!!!!
Jack also has some other fathers. And, again – he sure seems to like that juice;)
Anna headed north this weekend to visit her boyfriend, Will, at Fordham. We tried not to give her a hard time for choosing him over us – after all, she’s in college, we just saw her two weeks ago and she’s in love. We followed her through texts and social media as she explored his campus and then headed to see friends at NYU. It’s still strange going from knowing every detail of your kid’s life, to hearing about adventures after the fact — or watching them realtime on my iPhone.
She and Will decided to head home Saturday to hangout with some pals who were in town. We had plans to go to visit family in Pennsylvania, so we left Anna with strict instructions to watch the dogs, lock the doors and NOT have a party. Then we watched her come home for the first time in two months through our Nest cameras — I know it’s creepy (we have them for security).
Anna had a great time (and no party that I could see from my iPhone) and we also had a great time seeing the Perry/Brooklyn Torrey gang, but as soon as we ate breakfast Sunday, we said goodbye so that we could catch Anna before her Bolt Bus took her back to Charm City. It left us with a two hour visit with Bananz.
Two hours with our girl doesn’t sound like a lot, but we made the most of it.
Walking in the door of our house I needed to look passed the stuff littering the foyer floor and pile of dishes in the sink to focus on loving our girl. We hung out around the kitchen island, enjoying sandwiches from the Millburn Deli (Anna’s got her Godfather fix) and hearing all about how everyone is doing. Funny that when I asked about how her pals were doing, Anna started with unfamiliar names. It took me a minute to realize that she was talking about her Hopkins friends — another reminder that things have changed a bit. We did eventually hear about the adventures of the kids we’ve known since elementary school — I miss all those wonderful humans and am thrilled to hear they’re doing well.
After lunch, we got to do what has become an important activity when visiting with Anna. Shaving.
I hate shaving Jack. For some reason shaving my twenty-year-old son, while he’s being held down making horrible faces, is painful for me — as if it puts a spotlight over how different our lives are. Since Anna left for college, I look at anyone who walks into our house as a potential barber. Be warned — if you come for a visit, you could be next. We’ve had a few good volunteers, but no one is as skilled as Anna. She manages to keep Jack smiling and gets every last hair without a nick or a scratch.
The barber decided it was time for to say goodbye to the goatee. I rather liked it, but it’s barber’s choice at our house, and he does look awfully handsome!
After the shave, it was time to say goodbye. It’s always hard to say goodbye to Bananz, but we will see her in two weeks for the ALD Connect meeting and my nephew’s baptism, and Thanksgiving is right around the corner!
I’ve got to say – I am getting better with being a college mom.
Did you ever read Anna’s college essay? If not – CLICK HERE!
I like to surround myself with people smarter than I am. While some people might find it intimidating, I find it thrilling to witness brilliance and like the challenge of trying to blend in. And, if I know I’m really … Continue reading
Another ALD story to share, and this one is a little different. This is a new story for ALD –hopefully the future of our disease. It’s a story about a boy, newborn screening, and a bright future. Meet Donovan.
THIS is ALD #6 — Donovan
My son, Donovan, was born in Connecticut in 2016. When he was 3 weeks old, his pediatrician called and said he tested positive for a “metabolic disorder” on his newborn screen and needed further testing. She was purposely vague because she didn’t want me to Google the disorder until we had confirmed answers. It didn’t do much to keep me from worrying, though. She mentioned that if it was confirmed, my 3 daughter’s would need to be tested as well. Without much information, I was scared for my son’s life, and the health of my daughters.
The tests came back positive, Donovan had ALD. Don’s pediatrician continued to be vague, and I understand why. She wasn’t an expert on the disease, and didn’t want to give me any false information. My first question was “Is it life threatening?” All she could say was, “It can be.”
That’s when the Googling started.
We met with a geneticist at Yale, who was the only expert in the state. The information she gave us was overwhelming, and tough to process. So many unknowns. When will it manifest? Will it ever? What type will he have? How severe will it be? There was no way to tell. My husband and I spent several nights cradling and weeping over our newborn son. So small and perfect. How could he have this monster inside of him?
After the diagnosis, I joined the ALD support group on Facebook and met some amazing and wonderful people. I was connected with lovely families here in CT, some who were also diagnosed through newborn screening!
At 3 months, they tested Donovan’s blood to get an understanding of his adrenal function. At 6 months, he had his first MRI. I was terrified. I knew there wouldn’t be anything to see in his scans at this age, but they had to put him under so that he would be still, and that worried me a lot. He came through it like a champ, though. It didn’t seem to bother him at all!
Donovan is unique. First of all, he did not inherit the gene from me. I am not a carrier, and no one in my family, or my other children, are at risk. Donovan’s gene spontaneously mutated while in the womb. This only happens in 5%-7% of ALD babies. Secondly, he is, what his geneticist called, a “mosaic.” This means some of his cells are mutated, but some are not. She seemed baffled by it. She didn’t know how or why it happened that way, or how that might affect his condition. If at all. More unknowns. So they treat him like any other ALD patient, and I am grateful.
Don is now over a year old. He will have yearly MRIs until he is 3, and the every 6 months. He will also have his adrenal levels tested every 6 months. So far, all his tests have been normal.
ALD has opened a whole new world to us. I’ve met people I never would have otherwise known. Strong, beautiful, inspiring families. Some of their stories are terribly tragic. My husband asks me why I read those stories if it makes me so sad, and I tell him, “Because they put their pain out there. I just want them to know someone is listening, and someone cares.”
I am not a perfectly patient person, not at all! But I do think I live a bit differently, now. I take more pictures and videos, I give more hugs and kisses, I say more “I love yous.”
Donovan is my 4th child, but my only son. His older sisters adore him! He is cuddly and happy. He is curious and likes to get his hands on everything! He has even started climbing, now! His sister, Josephine, is only one year older than him and they are best friends. They do everything together and always want to be with one anther. My older 2, Mika and Ripley, help change diapers, teach, and play with him.
None of our children know much about his ALD. My 9 year old has heard us use the term and noticed his many doctor appointments, and she just understands that he has something inside him that could one day make him very sick. So we have to keep an eye on him. We have settled into our “normal.” Life has gone on, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that! For the chance for life to go on.
Diana and I met through the ALD Support group she mentioned and when she agreed to share Donovan’s story I was thrilled. It’s so important that people realize the advantages of newborn screening and an early diagnosis. Although the news must have been a huge slap to their family they are allowed to prepare and monitor.
The hope is that beautiful little Donovan will go on to have a perfectly normal life and ALD will stay dormant forever, but just in case, his family has a plan in place. It’s thrilling.
Diana told me that she wasn’t a writer, but I beg to argue. Her voice shines as a mother who loves her children and will do anything she needs to do to give them the best life possible. Thank you for sharing your story, Diana, and for helping people better understand our not-so-rare disease and the importance of newborn screening.
The response to THIS is ALD has been remarkable (If you missed post, check it out). I’ve spent much of the last week corresponding with people in the ALD community — hearing stories and sharing our own. It’s been emotional, but it does have me thinking that I’m onto something good.
I was working on a post about Goucher College and The Grateful Dead (including some marriage advice), but that’s going to have to wait. I have another ALD story about an amazing boy named Dalton.
THIS is ALD #3 — Dalton
I met Dalton’s mom, Jennifer Lindsey, in person this fall at an ALD symposium. I’d followed their ALD story since the beginning, and I was glad that I got to turn her from a stranger-friend to a friend. She is smart and loving and dedicated to the ALD community. As soon as I reached out to the ALD world asking for volunteers for THIS is ALD, she sent me a note. She agrees that the more people share, the brighter the ALD landscape will be.
Thank you Jennifer for your words.
Dalton was a very laid back, easy going kid. On a normal day, he wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt. In fact, if I ever had a polo or button-up shirt set out for him he automatically assumed it was picture day. He kept his hair short, but did have a Mohawk a couple times, which he thought was awesome. Dalton was a hot mess, but he was my mess. One moment he could be the sweetest, most loving kid you ever met and then turn right around and be the most devilish, ornery kid ever.
I always thought Dalton was destined to be a comedian. He could always make you laugh, even if you didn’t want to. Sometimes it was genuinely funny and other times it was just so downright stupid it was funny. Even when he wasn’t trying to be funny at all, it just came naturally to him. At times he didn’t know when to stop. He just liked making people laugh so much that if it worked he would keep it up, which at times was just fine and other times could be so frustrating. Like most kids, he didn’t have a filter, so there was no telling what was going to come out of his mouth. Dalton was a very sweet, loving boy who was robbed of everything possible by this monster we call Adrenoleukodystrophy.
Dalton was diagnosed on July 13, 2016 with Adrenoleukodystrophy, a genetic metabolic disorder that attacks the myelin sheath of the neurons in the brain. It literally robs these boys of their vision, hearing, motor skills, mobility, speech, ability to swallow, and eventually leads to death. A bone marrow transplant can stop the progression of the disease if successful, but does not reverse the damage already done.
He was a perfectly normal 10 year old boy before. We had no clue. The only reason we had an MRI was because he was having hearing issues in May, 2016. I was thinking it might either be a brain tumor or a processing disorder so we did the MRI to be on the safe side. Second worst day of our lives. At that point they sent us to Riley in Indy, who more or less gave us a death sentence. We were then several days later pointed in the direction of the University of Minnesota Masonic Children’s Hospital, where we spent almost 5 months.
Dalton had his stem cell transplant on August 29, 2016 which went beautifully, but he contracted the Epstein Barr virus in October, had to undergo more chemotherapy, and then was diagnosed with acute grade 4 gut graft vs host disease around mid-November. They tried several treatments, which were unsuccessful, and he was sent home on his birthday, December 1. We were under home hospice care until December 13 when he passed. I believe with all of my heart that newborn screening and gene therapy would have saved Dalton’s life.
Watching Jennifer’s Facebook feed over the last few weeks has been difficult. She has been reliving/reflecting/sharing (not sure of the right word, but it’s been both heartbreaking and beautiful). “See your memories” is a feature on Facebook that should be about fun memories of silly times over the years, but when you’ve lost someone, it can be upsetting. Jennifer’s Facebook page has been sharing the last few weeks of her son’s life as well as who he was before ALD crept into their lives. Dalton’s radiant smile before ALD is beautiful, and that is the boy that I chose to picture here. I love how Jennifer describes him, “One moment he could be the sweetest, most loving kid you ever met and then turn right around and be the most devilish, ornery kid ever.” Sounds like an awesome boy!
Unfortunately, Dalton’s story is not uncommon for ALD. Stem cell transplants have profound risks and if the disease has escalated passed a certain point, many boys lose skills quickly during the process. And, like in Dalton’s case, a transplant can leave a person vulnerable to infection, rejection of the new cells and Graft vs Host Disease (where the new cells – the graft, attack the body – the host).
As Jennifer says, Dalton’s story might have been different if they had had the luxury of newborn screening for ALD and had had access to gene therapy. Newborn screening allows families to prepare and monitor their child’s health so that treatment is provided in a timely fashion. Gene therapy does have risks, but Graft vs Host disease and rejection is avoided. It’s a game changer for ALD.
For more about Dalton and his journey, check out: In the Blink of an Eye: Dalton’s ALD Journey
Thank you Jennifer for sharing Dalton’s ALD journey.
Please contact me at email@example.com if you are interested in sharing your ALD story for THIS is ALD.
Every weekday morning, Anna races downstairs making sure she gets a chance to give her Boogie* a hug before his bus arrives. It makes my heart melt. No matter what’s going on in our family, our country, or the planet, I try to pause and enjoy the love that these kids have for each other. Siblings/best friends – the strongest bond I’ve ever witnessed. I’m a lucky mom.
That is all.
* Jack AKA Boogie, Boogie Brown, Boogs, Boogs McGee, JackO, WackO, The Weasel
My daughter/sister/bestie is 17 today!
Anna left at the crack of dawn for the DMV, and returned with a huge smile on her face and a driver’s license in her wallet. Once I was done jumping up and down with her in the driveway, I found myself in a puddle of tears. And, the tears aren’t stopping.
I’m hoping that some time here on the computer will help me sort out why I’m finding today so overwhelming. If I can just find the words, I might be able to make some sense out of all these emotions.
I’m excited for Anna. 17 is huge and getting your license is a great achievement. I know that some kids these days aren’t too interested in driving, but our girl has been obsessed with cars since we let her drive up the driveway on Block Island when she was twelve years old. She organized a driving instructor and even talked us into giving her Dan’s car over a year ago (he took the train today – anyone selling a car?). When our girl gets her mind set on something, she’s all in. And, Dan and I have also been looking forward to this milestone. Not needing to worry about getting Anna to and from school and lacrosse practice – AND having her help with errands is going to be wonderful.
So, what’s with all these tears? Here’s what I’ve up with:
1.) There is always the “Jack Factor”. That punch in the gut when there’s a bold reminder of something that Jack will never experience. That was further highlighted today when I realized that the rest of my day included stocking up on his diapers at Target, dealing with Medicaid, and setting up some doctor’s appointments. That punch never goes away.
2.) The phone call to our insurance company adding Anna to our plan. Even with the “good student discount”, the increase to our policy was startling. Probably not enough to make me cry, but it certainly made me pause.
3.) As much as I love having a daughter/sister/bestie I can’t believe I no longer have a little girl. Wasn’t she just born?
I won’t go into all the details of the day Anna arrived, but I will share that it wasn’t quite as beautiful as I had imagined the birth would be. I had begged my doctor to allow me to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). Jack had been breech and 10 pounds – a scheduled c-section. I’d felt cheated from having a typical “birth story”, and thought that this was a great idea. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as fun as I expected. I had signed up for a VBAC, not for a natural delivery, but by the time Anna arrived, any bit of pain medication was gone. GONE.
Needless to say, I was in agony. The only thing that kept me from continuing my four-letter-word rant, was when I heard the doctor say, “It’s a girl!”
I stopped screaming to ask, “Are you sure?”
Dan and I didn’t know the gender of either Jack or Anna before they arrived. We loved the idea of the “ultimate surprise”, but truthfully I wasn’t ever expecting to have a daughter. Dan’s sister, April, is the only girl of her generation on the Torrey side. And, Pop Pop (Dan’s father) is one of four boys. When Dan and I started our family, I really pictured myself as a mom of a couple of boys. “It’s a girl” was a complete surprise. We had no name prepared and nothing pink waiting for her arrival. I just stared at this little peanut as she was placed on my chest, wondering what it was going to be like to have a daughter.
It’s been amazing, but how did the time go so quickly? How is that little girl with no name or pink blankets driving a car to pick up her boyfriend and go out to lunch?
Okay – I got it. I’m hysterical because my job as Anna’s mom is reaching the end. Thank goodness MyMom is on her way for a visit. I need some love. Hey, wait a minute . . .
Happy Birthday Banana! You can come home now. I’m done crying for now;)
I apologize to anyone who was at the Millburn CVS on Sunday. All the pharmacist said was that our prescription would not be ready until the next day. She didn’t know that it was my third attempt to pick up … Continue reading
Twenty years ago (years before I was even pregnant with Jack), I was a middle school art teacher in a suburb on Long Island. One day, the principle asked me to come down to his office to discuss something. He told me that there was a boy in the district who was profoundly autistic. He wasn’t mainstreamed in any classes, but he really loved art. The principle asked if I would be willing to have the boy join my seventh grade class.
I didn’t know much about Autism, but I did know about tenure, so I nodded my head and said that I would love to.
The next day I was introduced to Harry. Harry could barely speak, couldn’t look me in the eye and had a host of very unusual behaviors. Initially, I thought HOW is this going to work? I was a new, inexperienced teacher and had 26 other seventh graders in the class – seventh graders!
I was surprised and delighted that over the next couple of weeks I didn’t just get used to Harry and his quirky behavior, I kinda fell in love with him. There was something magical about the way that he was able to tune out the chaos around him and focus on his work. And, the feelings where mutual — before long, part of Harry’s daily routine was to stop by my classroom several times a day to hug me. Long awkward AND awesome hugs.
As Back to School Night approached that year I was super excited about meeting Harry’s mom. I felt like I needed to tell this overwhelmed/exhausted women that she was doing a great job – that Harry was a great kid. I was going to make her day.
The night arrived, and as my seventh grade class of parents filed in, I scanned the room for Harry’s mom. I’m not sure what I was looking for but I was certain I didn’t see her. There was not one person in the crowd wearing a “I’m a special needs mom” hat. I was disappointed, but moved on with my “Why Art is the most important subject in your child’s curriculum” speech. When it was over and the class started to empty, a woman walked up to me and introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Harry’s mom”
I was floored. She’d been there the whole time and I hadn’t recognized her. She wasn’t at all what I expected – she was showered and had make-up on. She was even smiling. I paused a little too long and then made things worse by hugging her and telling her how much I adored her son and great I thought she was. That hug made Harry’s hugs seem pretty normal.
As she removed herself from my arms she said, “Thank you so much Mrs Torrey. THAT is great to hear, but I know how amazing Harry is. I’m not just a special needs mom – I’m Harry’s mom. Harry’s life might be a little more complicated than his peers, but I have always tried to not let Autism take over our family. I have other kids, I have a job and a husband and friends. If I let Autism define us, I am letting Autism win.”
I’m not much of a believer in “all things happen for a reason” but Harry’s mother’s words have stayed with me for over twenty years.
When Jack got sick and it started to become apparent that his disabilities weren’t temporary, I remembered that day meeting Harry’s mom and thinking that if I could just keep her attitude my family just might survive.