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Archive for the ‘mito’ Category

One year ago, a very special little girl came into our lives. Eithene (pronounced Eth – eh – nee) Rose was a 4-year-old beautiful ball of spunk who, like me, lived with a combination of Mitochondrial Disease (an neurometabolic disorder) and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (a connective tissue defect). She was also born with numerous birth defects which are together known as VACTERL Association.

Over the last year, Keith and I have visited with Eithene and her family (mom Jessica, dad Sean, brother Gabriel, and Aunt Jill) whenever we were in Boston. We have grown to love them. We couldn’t leave a single store without Keith seeing something that reminded him of Eithene or one of the other mito kids we regularly visit. Eithene’s story, however, is somewhat unique. Over the time that we’ve known the family, Eithene has only left the hospital for about five days last July. Other than that, she’s mostly been in a room on the ICP (Intermediate Care Program, a step-down of the ICU) at Children’s Hospital Boston. We’ve visited through numerous infections and medical crises and seen the strength she exhibits on a daily basis. Her mother’s love and faith have been unwavering and inspiring. Not only that, but mom Jessica has helped me through a large number of my own medical crises.

Saying "hi" to True

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I’ve been home for nearly two weeks now. Recovery has been slow and has sapped me of most of my excess energy so many apologies. Because there’s so much to cover – and I’m having difficulties organizing my thoughts – we’re going to go about this bullet-style.

  • I’m home. I was discharged with a four-week course of IV Vancomycin (a very powerful antibiotic) at a very high dose. Because we never got those sensitivities back (i.e. what bug we’re fighting and what antibiotic is best to fight it) and my reaction to the infection scared them (though I assure you, it did not scare nor surprise me or Keith), the doctors are playing it safe. I guess that’s what they do best. I was also on Cipro (another antibiotic), but I have finished that course.

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Considering I am currently back at MGH for a central line infection (which is being treated as sepsis due to my plummeting blood pressures and skyrocketing temperatures and heart rate; this could, however, be due to my really screwy autonomic nervous system), I thought I’d address the issues we’re currently encountering with my current former central line (a PICC in my left arm) and the debate over what kind of line is most appropriate for the long term use we’re envisioning.

How did we get here from there?
My GI tract (from stomach to colon) is essentially paralyzed. After numerous tests and a 25-day hospital stay when it officially shut down, a GJ-tube was placed. Five days later, I was readmitted partially because the GJ-tube was not providing enough of the necessary nutrients. The solution was to place a central line (a peripherally inserted central catheter or “PICC”) so that I could receive calories and vital nutrients intravenously. At this point, the PICC and TPN were planned to be short-term aids until we could build up the feeds to my jejunum (the middle part of my small intestine). A couple months later, my GI doctor said it looks like TPN is the most viable long-term option for me.

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Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.
-Dr. Seuss

Sometimes it surprises me how happy I am. How comfortable I am in my own skin. A year ago, I’m not sure if I could’ve seen myself this happy despite all that has changed (my zip code, my health, my occupation, my income, my aspirations, etc.). But I’m honestly, truly happy.

Keith and I deal with a ton of stressors with our daily life that shock many people. For instance, every day this week, I’ve had at least one medical appointment, over half of which were in Boston. (This is not out of the ordinary.) In addition, we’re watching my niece and nephew while my sister recovers from surgery. (This is something that Keith likes to call “birth control.”) We also deal with daily medical regiments including IV nutrition, stoma care, catheterizations, sterile procedures, and medical interventions. (This is in addition to Keith’s full-time student status and my work tutoring, researching, and volunteering.)

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Note: I wrote this blog nearly a month ago and am just now getting around to posting it because a good friend has been asking for it for ages and I thought she could use a small pick-me-up. This one’s for you, Liz…

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Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

This winter has been one full of challenges, stresses, adaptation, loss, learning, sickness, and love. Yes, love. Without it, I’m not sure I would’ve come out as relatively unscathed on this end.

This winter, New England received more snow than it had in years. It was blizzard after blizzard. It was cold and unrelenting. Even worse, my body appeared to be taking lessons.

One thing that I’ve always prided myself on is being able to rise from just about anything and everything stronger and smiling. After December, I was petering on the edge, still smiling, but straining and struggling not to lose myself. But after the second month of medical hell, I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t going to rise.

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Once you choose hope, anything’s possible. -Christopher Reeve

Four months ago I got my muscle biopsy results. It showed severe deficiencies and came with the official diagnosis of Mitochondrial Disease. Although I had lived over a year with a “clinical diagnosis,” it had suddenly become real. Really real. I found myself at a crossroad: I could breakdown and cry; or, I could do something about it.

That night I spoke with my best friend and expressed how I felt. Less than a year earlier, she had had the same conversation with her physicians. She heard those same words: “You have mitochondrial disease.” She felt the reality come over herself. And she chose to fight back.

We spoke for a long time about what we could do. How we could change the future. How we could keep this horrible disease from consuming our every wish and dream. Our every hope.

It was on that night that the Show of Hope was first conceived.

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I’d like to introduce my good friend Matthew. Matthew is a happy 6-1/2-year-old who loves singing, dancing, and drawing. For my birthday, he drew me a beautiful card:

Matthew's Card

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