Tag Archives: ALD

Life is work.

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Every time I think I have a handle on this new life, it slips out of my grasp.

The last couple of months I have been getting a little cocky. Feeling like nothing was getting me down and I was managing so well. I got through the holidays without procrastinating on my Christmas cards or forgetting a gift. I was looking forward to my spring art classes with new lessons and an eager attitude. I was averaging 15,000 steps a day on my Fitbit. I even started a new writing class, determined that 2016 was the year of getting published. I was on top of the world.

Then, things started falling apart. I’m not sure what happened, but I am fairly certain that full hours were snatched from my days. I couldn’t seem to sleep enough or get even half of my “list” done on any given day. My pile of bills started mounting into a tower in the office. Laundry seemed to never leave the heap on the chair in our bedroom. The kitchen sink was always full. Every room of our house had a reminder that I was losing a battle.

What do I do when I’m overwhelmed and feeling nuts? I pretend. If anyone asks – “I’m doing great!”. I walk around with a big smile and hope that conversations don’t get too deep so that I’m not forced to reveal anything. The last thing I really want to do is to talk about feeling that I’m losing my grip. I’m Jesse – I’ve got this.

Of corse there are hints. I don’t return phone calls, I drink more than I should, I avoid anything involving intimate conversation. I can easily disguise my mood from most people, but my close friends and family usually pick up on the signals. Dan has been asking “You okay?” so much that I started feeling kinda bad for him.

Time for a change.

This week, I’ve been avoiding the vino, tackling the laundry, sorting through the pile on my desk and searching for whatever it is that’s gotten me out of sync. It’s going pretty well, but have you ever noticed that laundry and bills are never really done?

 

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One of the things I do to keep myself on task is I write with a friend every Thursday morning. She and I have been devoted for two years to our Thursday morning ritual of meeting online, selecting a topic and diving in to a 30 minute “flash” writing session. Once we’re done, we exchange our work and then catch up on our lives. She and I have become quite close, although we’ve never met in person (we met while taking an online writing course two years ago). I think sometimes those anonymous relationships allow us to be more honest. She knows almost as many of my secrets as Jack does.

Yesterday morning she asked if there was anything on my mind. “Keeping up with change” was the subject I came up with. It was easier to suggest than, “I think that life is swallowing me.” She and I each poured our coffee and told each other that we’d be back in 30.

The beginning of this piece is what I got through. I’m always amazed how writing can help me better understand what I’m feeling. Once I find the words, my mood always seems to improve. Now, I just need to sort through what put me into the sour mood so I can avoid it happening again.

The “C” word (college) keeps coming up and it’s certainly not helping, but I don’t think that’s all of it. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed with normal, every day, I’m a grown-up shit. I won’t play the ALD card here.

Just because you have BIG crap going on doesn’t mean that the SMALL crap doesn’t bother you too.

My writing friend has a great way with words. She ended her note to me with “Life is work, and boy does that work take time.”

Indeed.

Love, Jess

First Twitter, now this

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It’s adorable. I keep finding my almost 50-year-old husband sitting at the computer yelling, “You’re not gonna believe who I just found!”

Dan has taken up social media. Perhaps it’s his version of a mid-life crisis. I’m not complaining — It’s way cheaper than a new car and much nicer (for me) than a young girlfriend. It started with Twitter a couple of months ago. He swears that it’s just for “real time news”, but he seems much more in the know about celebrity gossip these days. Then, over the weekend he asked me to help set him up on “The Facebook”.

I thought he was kidding. Dan’s not just been one of those people who didn’t care about “The Facebook”, he resented it. Dan’s old school. A vinyl guy who thinks that the written word (on paper, in ink) is somehow superior. He’s still offended by losing the extra space after a period and HATES that his daughter doesn’t use punctuation to complete a text message.

But, I was curious enough to see what Dan was planning, that I set up a page and showed him the basics. He dove right in. Within a couple of minutes, I could hear him from the other room – giddy as he found old friends. The sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. He poured through his friend’s pages searching for familiar names. He went from, “I’m just looking for some particular people.” to “Did you know how many people are on this thing?”

Downloading old pictures is where he is now. He started with a few family photos, but then he stumbled on some old albums. Now he’s reliving his youth, one photo at a time. Wilton days, Block Island shenanigans and college. Many of the images are not oriented properly and I did tell him that maybe he should make some albums so that he avoided taking up news feeds. “But WHO wouldn’t want to see this stuff?”

I felt like his mom yesterday when I sat down at the computer and found that his Facebook page was opened. It was like that day when I accidentally found that Anna left her iPhone at home (It’s not snooping, just checking). I looked at all the old photos – so many great memories, but there were a few pictures that made me pause. I gave Dan a call and suggested that some of the images might be a little inappropriate for a broad audience, “Dan, if you wouldn’t want Jack and Anna to see it, it’s shouldn’t be on Facebook.”

I’ve used a similar line with Anna, “If you wouldn’t want your grandparents to see it . . . “. It hasn’t always worked with Anna and I wasn’t convinced it worked for Dan, so I found myself doing a little “editing”.

When Dan got home yesterday he told me that he heard what I was saying and that there were a few pictures we was going to take down. I quickly confessed that I had already taken care of it and promised not to do it again, “Unless you start making bad choices.”

WHEN did I become this wife? If I’m not careful, he’s gonna unfriend me.

 

Love, Jess

A dead iPhone and a new goal

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Thanks to a dead iPhone, I finally have my goals set for 2016.

I only read books in the summer. I need to be in a folding chair, with sand between my toes, sun on my shoulders and the sound of the ocean in the background. I’ve tried to read at home in front of the fire, but I instantly fall asleep. And reading in bed doesn’t work for me either. The bed is for other activities — like television.

Of course I read a ton of blogs and magazines, and I never let my need for sand hold me back from the latest bestseller. When I’m not on the beach, I listen to audiobooks as I walk. It gets me and the dogs out of the house, puts steps on my fitbit, and lets me get lost in a good story. It also allows me to avoid too much thinking. I like to leave wandering thoughts for when I sit down with my journal or this blog.

This morning something horrible happened while I was out on my walk. Two miles from home, my iPhone died. I stopped in place, staring at the screen and didn’t know what to do. I thought about calling Dan to pick me up, but my iPhone WAS DEAD! Two miles takes me about 40 minutes. 40 minutes to think. I took a deep breath and decided I would take the opportunity to think about my goals for 2016.

The usual suspects came easily to mind. More walking, less drinking, getting published (my fingers have been crossed for so long that it hurts), less carryout, more kale. This list took me less then a minute. 39 minutes to think a little deeper.

It took a while, but I think the walk allowed me to come up with something. Here it is – my goal for 2016 – SLOW TIME.

I’ve spent most of my life looking forward. Looking forward to the weekend, to the next vacation, to the next paycheck. I would like to start living more in the moment. Appreciating every slow Tuesday and every quick conversation and every little hug — especially from my kids.

When Jack and Anna were babies, I felt so buried in sore boobs and laundry that I loved hearing from older woman who told me that “the years would fly by”. That sounded pretty good to me. I fantasized about the day that I could throw away the pacifiers and rid of the baby gates. Once that day arrived, I looked forward to the first day of preschool and watching the kids learn to read. That day came and went and  I was already gearing up to lose the carseats and start planning adventurous family trips.

Life, of course, didn’t follow the path exactly as expected. It wound around and filled with experiences. Not all were welcome, but I proud of where we are. Now, I find that I’m on the other side of the “years flying by” equation and I’m worried that it’s all going too fast.

I’ve got two teenage children with very different futures, but they are both speeding towards adulthood. Jack’s cord may stay closer to home, but even he will find some sort of independence. My days of raising little (big) kids is numbered.

My goal for 2016 is to learn how to slow the momentum. I think I can do this by learning to breath and taking time to appreciate more. Probably not every moment, but all the moments that don’t include poop or sassy teenage chatter (although if Jack wants to give me some sassy teenage chatter, that’s okay).

Love, Jess

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

 

The Skimm and the Panda

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Yesterday morning, The Skimm brought me an early Christmas present.

I get most of my news from the morning talk shows. A sound bite of serious, sprinkled within hollywood gossip and seasonal recipe ideas. It’s about all I can handle, but several months ago a friend recommended I check out The Skimm. Perfection. It’s an email that arrives every weekday morning with the important news stories of the day. It’s written like a friend is telling me (for the “Jesses” out there, not the “Dans”). No Skimm on the weekends which makes it even better – who really wants news on the weekends?

Our weekday morning routine is nuts here. We rush around, as if the school bus arriving is the strike of midnight and we will turn into pumpkins. Showering, toileting, eating, medicating, hydrating, brushing and tackling Jack’s “special shoes” onto his “special feet”. When we are done, Jack and I relax, plant our bottoms on the stairs, and open up the Skimm. Jack sits up straight, puts his arm around my neck and we read the news for the day.

Yesterday, among the clutter of news about the fight against ISIS, E.coli and gun control (pro gun control/con ISIS and E. coli), was a story about THE PANDA IN THE SNOWMEN. Finally, I understood what I’d been half-hearing all morning on the Today Show. I double clicked the link so that I could check it out. I’m not great at getting through a newspaper, but I am good at puzzles and within a minute I saw him. “Jack I see the panda. How about you?”

I pointed my finger, which he took without hesitation, and he pointed directly at the panda. Seconds. Amazing.

I know that some of you are thinking that it’s cheating because I let Jack use my hand to point. I thought the same thing when the school told me that it was their latest technique for having Jack make choices. I figured that it was like using a ouija board and that whoever was in change was subconsciously directing. I assure you that it’s not. Jack is quite clear about his intentions. And, Jack quickly saw the panda.

A friend commented to me that the trick with those types of puzzles is to relax your eyes and not stress. No wonder it came so easily to Jack. Jack lives his life fully relaxed and with no stress. We should all be so lucky.

MeRrY ChRiStMaS EvE!!

 

Love, Jess

 

Kids these days

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Here I go again. Another story about Anna.

I do sometimes worry that we are putting her on a pedestal so high that if she falls, it might really hurt. That she feels pressure to always be the best hoping to balance out our family’s circumstances. And, that some day she will decide that it’s not worth it and turn in her flawless GPA for . . . I don’t know, something bad.

But then I look at Anna and I know that, although she enjoys her parent’s praise (and the accolades from people who read this blog), she also really does like school and sports and giving back. And, that while she is wonderful, she’s still a teenager and has proven that to us in the last several months (maybe someday I will take a moment to list her less-than-perfect exploits so that people can feel better. Anna is human).

Anyway, I can’t NOT share what our daughter is doing these days. It’s just too great and very relevant to our “journey”.

Anna and her friends have taken over Boxes of Fun and are eager to take it to another level. I’ve loved the simple, homegrown family project, but I’m thrilled at Anna’s initiative and I’m okay with letting go of the reins.

Here’s a little back story on Boxes of Fun.

When Jack was first diagnosed, our friends swung into action. Dog walks, meals delivered, Anna entertained. At some point some friends even ripped out old carpeting and painted Jack’s room. It was incredible. And, as Jack prepared for his transplant, we started to hear rumblings about a magic box.

Jack’s Big Box of Fun was spearheaded by our dear friend, Kim Vivenzio. Kim was not just a “love aunt” to our kids and a “love sister” to me, she had a unique perspective to what our family was going through. Several years before, she received a stem cell transplant.

Her experience allowed her to help us on a profound level. She was able to explain the particulars of the treatments that Jack was going to face and strategies her family used to survive. She also shared some of the amazing things that she experienced during that time. One memory always brought a smile to her face — her friends and colleagues had made her an amazing box filled with goodies. Sharing how much it had meant to her, Kim got the idea to make a box for Jack.

Kim is not a woman who does things half way. She started to organize “Jack’s Big Box of Fun” with the help of a gaggle of friends. A huge box was decorated, filled with piles of presents from friends and family and delivered the day after we arrived to room 505 at Columbia Presbyterian Morgan Stanley’s Children’s Hospital.

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Jack’s Big Box of Fun was the centerpiece of room 505. Even days that Jack was too sick to play, our family had a wonderful distraction sitting at the foot of his bed.

As Jack recovered, our family was eager to give back. We wanted to help other families who were going through the hell of transplant. The Box of Fun had been such a light in our room that we decided we needed to share this light.

With the help of the Childlife team at the hospital, we started donating individual boxes to the kids on the transplant floor. It’s been a very homegrown way for our family to give back. Along the way, the community has helped out. Donations have been made by friends and family. We’ve received piles of gifts from children — donating to celebrate their birthdays or for the holidays. We’ve had local businesses donate. We’ve had friends as far away as Block Island, Pennsylvania and Massachusetts host toy drives.

Anna has grown up with Boxes of Fun and as the years have gone by, she’s become the primary decorator and gift selector (I’m apparently lame about what kids want). Last year, she and her friends organized some drives and this year they’ve made it into an official club at her high school.

They’ve been busy Tweeting, Instagraming, and Facebooking. Raising enough money and awareness that they’re hoping to expand Boxes of Fun to a few more hospitals by spring. I’m so proud of this crew of amazing teenagers.

This weekend they are bagging groceries at a local store — SHOP RITE IN SPRINGFIELD (please come by tomorrow). I spent the day watching as they bagged groceries, raised money and shared the history of Boxes of Fun. I am a very proud mama.

Kids these days – THEY’RE INCREDIBLE.

Love, Jess

PS Kim is celebrating her 20th transplant birthday next year. That’s gonna be a great party!!!

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Time and a little innocence

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I was talking to a mom yesterday who’s struggling to find peace with a difficult diagnosis. She asked how I stayed so positive. I hear this sometimes and I wonder if I shouldn’t post a youtube video of my less-that-positive moments. I have them — trust me.

While I’m not always the picture of positivity, most days I am optimistic. After all, we’re lucky for a bunch of reasons. For one, we have a son who never complains. Not just because he can’t speak, but because he is the happiest person on the planet. We are also blessed with a daughter who never spends a moment questioning her family’s situation (she does question some of my decisions, but nothing having to do with Jack). Our “special” family also had one advantage that not all “special” families are given — time.

When we started our new life we didn’t know we were starting a new life. Our family assumed that we were living a dark chapter and that we would one day return to normal. We got it wrong and I am grateful for our innocence.

Eight years ago I don’t think we were prepared to accept a world that looks like ours or understand that our family could thrive under our complicated circumstances. Instead, we grew into our new life little by little and it’s worked out well. As the mom, I needed every minute of the eight years I was given to process this new reality. It’s far easier when information trickles in, than when you’re hit by an avalanche.

Jack was diagnosed with ALD before social media. Yes, there was the internet to track down information about rare diseases, but there were not online communities to join. I know, because I tried. I did find a few other families who were battling ALD and we grew close, but now newly diagnosed families can find their peers by simply typing “ALD” into their Facebook search. Within seconds, they’re connected to dozens of families willing to share their experiences.

It’s wonderful for people to know that they are not alone and to acquire information, but I worry that a heap of details about a disease like ours might be overwhelming and discouraging. I’m not sure how I would have reacted if someone had described what our future would look like when I was still processing the diagnosis and treatment.

I’ve shared our family’s journey publicly for years, and many ALD families have reached out. I hear the silence on the other end of the phone (or the keyboard) following a quick description about how “GREAT Jack is doing.” The word “GREAT” is following words like transplants, diapers, g-tubes, seizures, non-verbal, etc. I try to rewind and point out all the things that Jack is still able to do, “Jack can still see, hear, walk, laugh.” The silence continues.

Eight years ago, if some mother tried to tell me that her son was doing “GREAT” because he could still see, hear and walk, I would have slapped her.

As I tried to reassure the young mother yesterday, my heart went out to her. This world full of information is a mixed blessing. While I was impressed with her determination and knowledge of her child’s disease, she was getting buried in facts and statistics and details.

I kept trying to find the right words to make her feel better. I told her to stay strong, find a team of experts, pray if she is lucky enough to have faith, and breathe.

Knowledge is power, but sometimes I think that a little innocence is not such a bad thing.

 

Love, Jess

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Giving Tuesday!

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I’m guilty too. After laughing about how absurd it was to dash out from family — and dishes — to shop on Black Friday, I found myself sneaking on the computer first thing Monday to see what was on sale. Suddenly, I was in a frenzy. 50% off at JCrew, 25% off TVs at Best Buy! I forget everything I said, grabbed my credit card, and went nuts.

Giving Tuesday is the perfect opportunity to regroup and remember what the holiday season is really all about.

YES — this is the part where I talk you into pulling out your credit card and supporting something other than your family’s wardrobe or gaming systems or pot racks (Williams Sonoma also had a monster sale).

CPNJ Horizon High School has been a life saver for our family. Finding the right fit for Jack following our wonderful experience at The PG Chambers School was difficult. If you have a special needs child, you understand. If you don’t, I want you to take a moment and try to imagine.

School is always a source of concern for parents. We all want to feel that our child will be safe at school and have days filled with engaging experiences. When your child has limitations, you worry more. Dan and I needed to find a high school program that would support Jack’s needs while keeping his smile firmly intact. There are no schools for non-verbal boys with ALD and Epilepsy, who need help eating, toileting, and walking down the hall BUT who also what to have fun. We started our search with a huge list of requirements.

We wanted a school where Jack would receive physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy during his school day. We wanted a school with an accessible playground, a therapy pool, an outdoor vegetable garden, art and music. We wanted Jack to be exposed to instruction in subjects like science and history. We wanted Jack to get to enjoy community trips, sports, plays and a prom.

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Prom 2015

 

We found all those things and more at CPNJ Horizon High School! Jack gets on the school bus every morning with a huge smile on his face and comes home seven hours later tired but happy.

Now it’s time to grab your credit card and make a donation. Let us know and you will receive a thank you note from Jack;-) AND we will inform elves from all faiths that you were extra good this year!

Love, Jess

 

46 ain’t so bad

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There is nothing sexy about being 46. You’re neither young and spry or old and wise. You still need to cover your gray and squeeze into skinny jeans, but you can’t really compete with the 20-year-old crowd (or the 30-year-old crowd). You’re just middle-aged. But here I am, and I’m doing just fine.

I’m not sure when I’ll get used to the increasing amount of lines on my forehead or how my legs crack when I stand up after sitting on the floor, but I feel blessed for the life I woke up to this morning.

A gentle kiss on my cheek from my husband with a “Happy Birthday” whispered in my ear. Then my sweet Banana came tiptoeing into my room and crawled in my bed to give me a birthday hug. As she left the room, I noticed that she had slipped a note under my pillow. I would share what she wrote, but I can’t – 1. She would kill me 2. It’s mine and I don’t want to share the magic. Jack can’t sneak into my room or write me sweet notes, but he did share his brilliant smile when I walked into his room this morning. He knows it’s his mama’s birthday.

It’s not just my family that warms me, my friends are an incredible bunch. I’ve always heard that when learning a sport you should practice with better players. I’m not an athlete, but I’ve always thought of this when choosing friends. Since I was a little girl, I’ve managed to surround myself with people who teach me, encourage me and make me want to be my best.

Not that my friends have been a group of saints. “Best” hasn’t always included intellectually interesting endeavors, or even healthy activities, but my friends have always been an assortment of people who I find remarkable. I just had a great lunch with a dear friend (thanks Kim) and look forward to celebrating more this weekend. And, thanks to technology, friends from all over my life have remembered my birthday. I’m feeling extra loved.

Lately I’ve been watching the two generation on either side of me and wondering where I fit. My parents and in-laws are spending their retirement years traveling so much that I have trouble remember where everyone is on a given day. And, Anna and her pals get to enjoy the benefits of teenage life, where their only real priorities are working hard in school and make it home before curfew.

Sometimes, I feel a little buried under the responsibilities of being a middle-aged grown-up, but today I’m just trying to enjoy the fact that I’ve accomplished quite a bit in 46 years AND hoping that I have another 46 or so years to go.

Thanks for the Birthday love! I’m a lucky (kinda old) gal!!

Love, Jess

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Happy tears

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We’ve prepared for this news for eight years. I’d worked so hard to be equipped for a different outcome, that I was not ready to hear the words, “Anna is NOT a carrier.”

I was in the middle of World Market with my cellphone pressed tightly to my ear, sobbing, asking to hear the words again.

When Jack was first diagnosed with ALD, we’d never heard of the disease. We had a difficult time understanding the way it had traveled down our family line without appearance – until Jack. An X-linked disease, carried by the mother. It effects only boys. My brothers seemed to have won a lottery, but my son was not so lucky. Nature is not fair.

Of corse the focus for our family has been to help Jack survive the disease, but a question has been asked a lot over the past eight years. Often in hushed tones with gentle hands gripping my arm, “What about Anna?”

My answer was always at the ready. Sounding confident and positive, I’d say that we didn’t know, but weren’t worried. Anna’s odds of being a carrier were 50/50. If she carried the disease the biggest concern was the gene spilling into the next generation. I’d list the variety of options Anna would have to conceive, if in fact she was a carrier. I’d go on and on about the wonders of modern science and finish with,  “By the time Anna is ready to start a family, there will probably be a simple cure for ALD.”

Here’s the truth — underneath that speech, I was terrified. ALD has stolen enough from our family and I wasn’t sure I could find the energy to fight with ALD again. While it would not be impossible for Anna to have children without the mutation, it would be complicated. Having children is complicated enough. And our family has been through enough COMPLICATED.

So for eight years I’ve been crossing my fingers, while trying to prepare for whatever news we would hear. We didn’t want to test Anna until she was ready, but as soon as she asked, we made an appointment.

Meeting with the geneticist last month was fascinating for our science girl, Anna. For her it was interesting and she approached the information like a research project. It was not as easy for me. I did my best to keep a polite smile on my face during the meeting and make the day as festive as possible. Anna has always been the most important audience for my “We are not worried” speech. I think I managed to get away with it because last night when Dan and I shared the news, her only question was, “WHY are you crying?”

We’re so thrilled with the news that I’m still weeping a day later. I hadn’t appreciated the weight of this threat until it was released. Our beautiful girl dodged a bullet. I think I’ll be crying for a while. Happy tears.

Anna’s always been a good student and this is just another test that she managed to crush!!!

Love, Jess

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Anna and I share a lot. I’m just glad that we don’t share everything.

My other silent boy

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For those of you who have been worried that I may be sharing too much with Jack, I’m sorry. It is true that he has heard more than a teenage boy should about local gossip and various peri-manopausal symptoms. I am trying to be better at avoiding such topics when Jack’s in earshot. And, it’s not just because I’m worried that he is going to blackmail me – it’s just the right thing to do.

The truth is that he is not the only holder of my secrets. I have another silent boy in the house who’s also a really good listener. His ears are floppy and he lets me lie on the couch with him and rant about everything. He never gets bothered if my breath is bad or my feet are stinky. He just snuggles in and lets me vent about things and sort out my crap. He is the one that people should be worried about – Keegan knows EVERYTHING about EVERYONE.

Things I am too scared to even write in my private journal have been shared with my furry friend. There’s something about the way he looks at me, that I know he understands and cares. Keegan’s brother, Finn (AKA “Bad Dog”), walks away in the middle of a story if he hears a truck outside or the postman walking up the front steps. Keegan never leaves my side until he knows I’ve really let it all out.

Yes, I know that technically Keegan is Jack’s service dog, but the truth is that without him, I’m not sure that I could manage. There are just some days that I feel like I am going to explode (or implode). Stuff builds up and I need someone. I can’t always burden my friends and family – particularly when it’s my friends and family that I need to discuss. We all need a sounding board and Keegan is mine.

Yesterday was Keegan’s 7th birthday. I tend to forget birthdays of people/creatures I love (just ask my nieces and nephews). Ironic, because I expect everyone to remember mine — November 19 — 13 more shopping days left. Keegan’s puppy raisers reminded me today and I instantly stopped what I was doing to showered our boy with some love. Then, I gave him a nice long walk and two cups of kibble for dinner. Next year, I promise to throw in some balloons and streamers.

Thank you Keegan for being Jack’s best friend and my therapist.

Love, Jess

For more information about Canine Companions for Independence check out: http://www.CCI.org

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A great listener and so handsome.