Ever wonder?

Ever wonder what life would look like if the worst thing hadn’t happened?

Ever close your eyes and try to picture yourself going through the motions of life as it was supposed to be?

When Jack first got sick, I would wake up each morning forgetting our new reality briefly. Then it would sink in.

That first year, I could easily picture what life would have looked like had Jack not been diagnosed with a disease that within months had left him both medically fragile and fully dependent. Jack would have finished second grade over at the Marshall School. He would have continued playing little league for another year or so (but was probably getting close to breaking the news to Dan that it wasn’t really his sport). Anna would have had hair down to her waist instead of missing that 10 inches that she’d donated to Locks of Love. I would have been dreading those crazy weekends before the holidays when everyone in town NEEDED their family portraits done. And Dan’s job would have been flourishing, knowing all his ducks were in a row at home. 

We also would have taken that trip to Puerto Rico that we had to replace with an extended stay in the hospital.

A couple of years into our new life, I needed to concentrate a little more to get the visual of what life would have looked like if the worst thing hadn’t happened. Even before his disease made a mess in Jack’s brain, he was never into organized sports — certainly not the way kids play sports these days. By middle school, I pictured him being one of those kids with a skateboard in hand and holes in his jeans that were earned, not purchased. His beautiful smile making even the cranky neighbors forgive him for cutting through their lawn and paying music too loud with his buddies. Without being exposed so early to the power of science, Anna may have chosen to focus on her other love — art. She might have had parents who paid a little more attention to her – to her schedule, her needs. I might have given up family portraits to go back to teaching art full time. As a family we might have even gone abroad for a few years taking advantage of a job opportunity for Dan.

Now this fictional story of how life was supposed to be is impossible to imagine. As much as I tried not to let it happen, Jack’s disease has been the center of our lives for 16 years. It has defined our family. Jack didn’t finish his time at the Marshal School, he never returned to little league or rode a skateboard. He didn’t go to college or trade school. Instead, he went to special schools for the multiply disabled, has become accustomed to needing help with everything from eating to toileting, and had to learn how to make that magical smile of his be his only source of communication. 

But things aren’t so bad.

Jack’s in an adult program now where a typical day involves pushing his friend’s wheelchairs, doing simple arts and crafts, being fed by an aide, and laughing. Anna is on her way to medical school in a few short months (her likely focus is reproductive endocrinology – a specialty we’d never known existed before this new life). Dan has enjoyed a wonderful career in finance, but his priorities include having the flexibility to be able to get Jack up in the morning – hearing them in the bathroom listening to 70s on 7 as Dan bathes his only son is how I wake up each morning. And my life is completely a result of the worst thing that ever-happened to us. I’m a writer, an advocate, a therapist – all things that would have been — not just unlikely, but impossible 16 years ago. Impossible without living through the worst thing in our lives.

If I could — I would change our journey. I would trade all this for what life had promised us before the worst thing happened. There is a reason I still call it the worst thing that ever happened. BUT it did happen and it left, not just scars, but the knowledge that we can heal. That we can survive and even thrive. 

So I try to look at our family now without thinking too much about the before and after the worst thing. I try to focus on who we are and what we are doing now. Maybe this is life as it is supposed to be.

Last month our family finally took that trip to Puerto Rico. It may not have been the trip it would have been without the worst thing, but it was beautiful. 

Love, Jess

where did the tears come from?

Every month I speak to medical students from Rutgers University. It’s a small group of third year students who are in their pediatric rotation. I’m a “patient representative” who is there to share our family’s story and the good and bad of what we’ve experienced with doctors. I look forward to these Zoom sessions and am always impressed with the students and appreciate being able to sneak in as much as I can about ALD — the often missed signs of ALD and the importance of newborn screening.

After we go around doing introductions, I share the video that bluebird bio made about our family. It’s a great way for the students to learn a bit about our journey and “meet the family”. While the video plays, I usually take the opportunity to slip away from my desk to make a cup of tea or check in with Dan and Jack. Last night I sat and watched the video with the students.

I found myself in tears.

I did regain my composure by the time the video was over and got through the next hour and a half managing to hold it together as I shared stories of working with many exceptional doctors and some who were lacking empathy and/or the ability to recognize when they may need more education about our not as rare as you might think disease. I always try to be approachable and relaxed, using humor to make everyone as comfortable as possible as I share stories about witnessing our son unravel, searching for answers, receiving a life-threatening diagnosis, watching as our once typical, healthy son fight for his life, and learning to adapt to a life that none of us ever imagined. I’ve done this enough that I can let the words just flow. I did a fine job, but I couldn’t help feeling distracted.

After the session, I got up and went directly into Jack’s room, knowing that time with the boy would brighten my mood. We sat and watched The Impractical Jokers and laughed until it was time for us to get ready for bed. I did feel much better after spending time with him.  Jack is doing great. He loves his adult program and time with his other mothers AND can comfortably live at home. His health continues to be stable and, except for an occasional tear shed while watching those ASPCA ads, he always has a bright smile on his face. 

Although I felt better, as I tried to fall asleep last night, I kept thinking about my reaction to watching the video. My only explanation for yesterday’s tears is that it’s been a while since I let myself really focus on what we went through 15 years ago. Sure – I share it, but I remove myself as much as I can from the story. I fill in as many of the dark spots with humor and light. It’s how I survive.

If I were my own therapist, I would ask myself how this strategy is working, and I think my answer would be that it’s working pretty well — I don’t want to live in the dark. I want to live in the light. I want to enjoy all the good our family has experienced and not waste time with the what ifs. BUT maybe sometimes I should consider allowing myself some time to be frustrated or mad or sad. I’m not sure how or when, but I will sure try to avoid doing it in front of a screen full of students.

Love, Jess

HaPpY 14th Transplant Birthday!

14 Years . . . Day + 5113 . . .

It’s Jack’s 14th Transplant BiRtHdAy!!!! 14 years since he received the magic cells from the Little Lady from Detroit that would stop the progression of ALD and allow us to not just continue enjoying life with Jack, but appreciate his wisdom and strength. He’s the greatest teacher I’ve ever had and I know he’s the same impact on everyone lucky enough to cross his path.

Here are some sweet words from his family about our boy. PLEASE add a comment about what Jack means to you.

He’s got moves like Jagger. – Dan

He’s a loud, silent human. I love my Booger – Anna

In an age where we’re all on our devices, Jack is living in the moment and loving it. – Aunt April

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and the present is the gift Jack gives us. – Love Aunt Darcy (with help for Eleanor Roosevelt)

We all so remember this day 14 years ago when Jack stayed so calm and so brave as the the Little Last from Detroit came into him and started to do her magic. He smiled back at all the people standing and applauding in his room. What wonderful advantage we all have been able to take from that gift. Jack has been our leader and hero every moment of the way. —  Nonno and Mymom

A quiet guy with a big personality. – Uncle Phil

We both always feel so good around Jack and feel his presence and happy demeanor. He is a gift that makes us all better people. — Love, PopPop and Nanna Sue

A man of few words who says a lot especially with his laughs and smiles. – Aunt Kate

Jack is just a light soul and a whole lot of laughter and smiles. He is also a great dance partner. – Other Mother Orla

Jack is engaged. People think not speaking would isolate him, but it sure doesn’t. – Mymom

Absolutely famntastic! The best friend anyone could ask for. Empathetic, funny, charming. – Other Father Peter

As my grandson and my inspiration as a valiant and brave guy always ready to replace difficulties and tragedy with a laugh. – Nonno

Jack is the best human being ever, my inspiration in life! – Other Mother Lilly

Jack is pure love! The most beautiful soul I have ever met. He means kindness, friendship, strength and sensitivity with a resilient heart. Jack is an example of how to live life with grace and joy no matter the adversities. – Other Mother Monica

Jack is an amazing young man who loves a good laugh more than anyone I know! – Uncle Matt

Once upon a time there was “a Iittle girl from Detroit” who would forever change a little boy by the name of Jack Torrey’s life!  Her gift to Jack has inspired so many and has given Jack the opportunity to be the awesome dude he is – a smile like no other and an awesome sense of humor to boot! – Love Aunt Kim

Jack’s journey shows that happiness and love can win. Jack still has the same attachment he always did. — Uncle Pablo

Our family can’t describe in words what Jacko means to us. He has completed our family. We love him so much. — Other Mother Maria and Family

Time is always a odd when it comes to remembering defining milestones. We will never forget that day in room 505, but it feels like both yesterday and a million years ago. We remember every detail of the anxiety and energy and hope and smell (stem cells smell terrible — who knew?) in the room when the life-saving cells went into Jacks’s body. It’s the day that we saved our son’s life with the help of countless doctors and nurses AND a family that donated precious cells, never knowing that they were going to give the gift of Jack to so many.

Thank you to the mother of the Little Lady from Detroit! Your gift didn’t just save Jack’s life, it changed the lives of many!!

Love, Jess

saying goodbye is hard

Our family has been showered with so much love following us saying goodbye to Keegan. Thank you. Many have asked how Jack is doing and my answer has been, “As well as anybody would be saying goodbye to a dear friend.”

Saying goodbye is hard.

The morning Dan and I agreed that it was time to call our veterinarian, we shared the decision with both of the kids. We explained that Keegan was in pain, he wasn’t eating and was having trouble walking. We needed to let him go. We talked about him always being in our hearts and that he was going to move on and get to be free of his body that was failing. Anna who had been visiting with my folks said she would come right home, and Jack didn’t react for a moment and then made a pained face and cried. Silent but very real heartbreaking tears.

We spent the day lingering in the living-room where Keegan rested on the floor. We gave him love and cried and laughed and watched bad tv. Jack got to spend a few hours with one of his other mothers, Monica, and got home just as the veterinarian arrived to peacefully send Keegan off to his next journey. It was horrible and beautiful.

We’ve spent the last week sharing a lot of stories about Keegan and picturing him up in heaven playing with many of his old friends. Through our tears we’ve laughed about him needing to be careful that Finn doesn’t stop him from having some fun – Finn never liked Keegan getting to play. Be strong Keegan – it’s your turn to be in charge!!

The house feels a little empty, but Tupelo is doing her best to give us the licks we all need right now. And Jack is doing as fine as any of us are right now. We are all going about our days and periodically getting a firm reminder of what is missing.

Saying goodbye is hard.

People often confuse silence and disability with ignorance, even stupidity – Jack is neither of those things. But, times like this, I wonder if a little ignorance (even stupidity) might not be such a bad thing.

Love, Jess

what a WeEkEnD!!!!

I had trouble falling asleep Sunday night. Ever had a big day that you just didn’t want to end? We had a whole weekend of fun and my mind was spinning with entertaining memories and picturing the giant smile on Jack’s face. This weekend was The Camp at Home — ALD Family Weekend thanks to The Painter Turtle, the wonderful Adler family, Dr. Van Haren and all the other ALD heroes/folks that made it happen. Watching the computer screen all weekend and getting to see some of our favorite ALD families was great, but for me it was seeing all the new families that really got to me.

I was told almost half of the people were families new to ALD. Most of them have been recently diagnosed through newborn screening (thanks to the incredible work of the Aidan Jack Seeger Foundation/ALD Alliance). These are perhaps the luckiest, unlucky folks around. Thanks to newborn screening their children have been diagnosed early with Adrenoleukodystrophy They have time to educate themselves, set up a team of doctors who understand the disease, and monitor their sons so that when – and IF – the disease starts to progress, they can start treatment quickly. 

Lucky.

Unfortunately, this knowledge often comes out of nowhere. Imagine having a new baby and receiving a call a few weeks later saying that there was something that came up on their newborn screening panel. Imagine then doing more tests to confirm that your beautiful healthy son has a disease you can’t pronounce. Imagine sitting down at your computer and Googling a disease where much of the information floating around the internet is frightening and out of date.

Unlucky . . . But back to lucky.

My hope is that not long after getting the terrible news, these families stumbled on a Facebook page or found websites like https://aldconnect.orghttps://www.aldalliance.orghttps://www.bluebirdbio.com. They then met a few other families who were maybe several months are years ahead of them in their journey. They started learning that there are incredible doctors working with ALD and that with an early diagnosis, there are treatments and trials and hope. Then they heard about this incredible weekend where the entire community was invited to attend, free of charge, to meet more people, to hear from doctors about current trials and research, to hear from other families, to cook and to make art and to dance. Billie Eilish and Neil Young even gave the ALD community a shout out during the Saturday night “camp at home fire pit”.  

I hope these new ALD families feel a little better about this “club” they were just forced to join.

I was asked to speak on a panel on Sunday that included several people who I’ve known and admired for years and one man who I have added to my list of ALD heroes. When discussing the plans for the panel, we were told that we should share our stories keeping in mind that many in the audience would be new families. My first thought was, it’s hard to make Jack’s story seem easy and light. Then I thought – I’m talking about Jack. Nobody is lighter than Jack! I started sharing our story with why Jack wasn’t sitting next to me.  He was out for a quick lunch with his friend Monica and her beautiful/brilliant daughter, “If you think for a second that a life full of complicated challenges is sad and limited, think again. There is nothing sad or limited about Jack’s life.”

ALD = crappy disease/amazing people!

Love, Jess

MCATS, NYU, Old School Vinyl and Duct Tape

hApPy NeW yEaR!!!! Less than a week into 2021, and our family is starting out strong. Anna completed her junior year at Johns Hopkins a semester early, so she’s taking next semester off to study for the MCATS. Not really … Continue reading

Christmas 2020

Christmas was okay, it just didn’t feel like Christmas.

We did get to enjoy Mymom’s famous sausage/spinach lasagna on Christmas Eve and woke up Christmas morning to made french toast and opened gifts. We ate and drank and listened to Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift to You All. We spoke with family and friends via Zoom. We even got to spent the day after Christmas like every year — in our PJs watching movies and playing games. The holiday was lovely, but it just wasn’t the same.

The lack of other people felt strange. We were lucky to be able to spend time with my parents (they are our pod, although we are still careful). Our tiny table of six was filled with delicious food and lively conversation, it just felt a little festive then Christmas should be.

The entire holiday season feels a little underwhelming. We weren’t able to see our beautiful nieces and nephews or party with the extended family. There were no December Saturday nights where we Uber from one party to another. There were no lunches with my girlfriends to escape from holiday shopping. There will be no party with close friends to ring in the new year. I didn’t even have the heart or the energy to send out a holiday card. 

COVID was the Grinch that stole the holidays. 

We keep saying to ourselves that next year will be different. It better be. We need to fill this house again! 2020 has taught us all a lot about appreciating the small things AND that nature is powerful and sometimes cruel. Lesson learned 2020 — now let’s move onto 2021 with a new vaccine, a new president and (hopefully) tons of time with friends and family!!!

hApPy NeW yEaR!!!!!!!!!!

Love, Jess

Thanks JackO

This morning I was sitting in my office feeling overwhelmed as I poured through my syllabi for the winter term. I was busy second-guessing my decision to return to school at my age and wondering how on earth I was going to manage, when I heard Maria (Jack’s caregiver), “JackO – why are you crying?”

I race downstairs to find our boy in front of Maria’s phone, watching a video with big tears rolling down his face.

Shakira singing John Lennon’s Imagine.

You may say I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope some day you’ll join us

And the world will be as one

Don’t ever confuse Jack’s silence with not understanding. He recognizes powerful words when he hears them and sometimes his emotions take over. Perhaps his silence allows him to listen even closer than many of us. I’m always amazed by the beauty of these moments. Maria offered to turn off the song, but I insisted that we continue. Tears aren’t always such a bad thing — beside I needed a little perspective this morning.

Love you JackO. And, John Lennon and Shakira too;)

Love, Jess

our relationship in 100 words

As the music plays, I lay my head on his shoulder and feel his breath on my face. I wrap my arm around him so I can stroke his hair and wonder when he’ll lose the rest. He doesn’t seem to know that he’s aged, but the years have come and gone and he’s showing signs of a complicated life. He loves this song. I can tell by the way his body is rocking. He’s not been able to speak for many years, but I’m able to translate. Our connection is deeper than the scars his disease has left behind.

Two Days

Loving my new fancy ALD Connect mask!

I rarely check my calendar anymore. What’s the point? Plans aren’t really being made anymore. We live our lives playing everything by ear. All my sentences with friends and family start with — Let’s see or If the weather is good or Hopefully.

But this morning without thinking, I opened up my yellow 2020 monthly calendar and there it was — ALD Connect Patient Learning Academy. I should be packing my bags today to go down to Baltimore for their annual conference. Not this year. This year — like everything else — the conference will be on Zoom.

The 2020 conference was scheduled to be in Baltimore. My mother and I planned to head down early to steal Anna away from her college apartment, spoil her with a nice hotel room and explore Charm City for a day before hunkering down at the conference. Being in Baltimore and getting to see Anna for the weekend was going to be icing on the cake for what is always a wonderful few days with the ALD community. It’s an opportunity to sit with people who understand our disease — families, doctors, nurses, advocates, pharmaceutical companies, biotech firms — all with one mission — to win the war against ALD. It’s always an exhausting few days, but every year I leave counting the days until the next one.

Oh well.

It’s not perfect, but I will log in on Friday, and for two days get to listen to the latest news about ALD treatments and protocols. I will get to hear all the updates about newborn screening and hear stories of people’s struggles and triumphs over our disease. And, I will get to at least catch a glimpse of some of my favorite ALD folks on my computer screen.

Fingers crossed that next year we can reunite in person. Until then, I will enjoy the two days and try to appreciate the fact that I don’t need to take off my sweatpants and can get away with just a little mascara.

Love, Jess