Saturday, September 26, 2009
Arkansas Children’s Hospital Climbing in Rank to Win Gameroom Makeover from Children’s Miracle Network and X-box
LITTLE ROCK, Ark. (September 22, 2009) -- Arkansas Children’s Hospital currently is ranked fourth in a national effort among pediatric hospitals to win a gameroom makeover for the young patients who are confined within the hospital. The public is voting for their favorite Children’s Miracle Network hospital and Arkansas Children’s has climbed from the eighth spot, to within 100,000 votes of third place.
Children’s Miracle Network is an international non-profit organization that raises money for 170 pediatric hospitals, including Arkansas Children’s Hospital. The three hospitals with the most votes receive a playroom makeover valued at $10,000 that can include items such as Xbox game consoles, games, plasma TVs, computers and other entertainment.
Individuals who vote are automatically entered for a chance to win one of five Xbox 360 Elite consoles that will be awarded to the public. A maximum of ten votes are allowed each day at xbox.childrensmiraclenetwork.org. The contest ends October 16. Winners will be announced in early November.
Arkansas Children’s Hospital is the only pediatric medical center in Arkansas and one of the largest in the United States serving children from birth to age 21. The campus spans 29 city blocks and houses 316 beds, a staff of approximately 500 physicians, 80 residents in pediatrics and pediatric specialties and more than 4,200 employees. The private, nonprofit healthcare facility boasts an internationally renowned reputation for medical breakthroughs and intensive treatments, unique surgical procedures and forward-thinking medical research - all dedicated to fulfilling our mission of enhancing, sustaining and restoring children’s health and development. ACH has ranked twice on FORTUNE 100 Best Companies to Work For®, most recently at No. 85. For more information, visit www.archildrens.org.
Sometimes I wish I Were in Italy; Sometimes I Enjoy the Tulips
Common Ground
Because of my Ella and our crazy summer, I've spent a lot of time thinking about what it would mean for us to have a daughter with special needs, persistent developmental delays, a handicap or whatever you want to call it. (Not to be a broken record, but we still don't know what her future holds; we're hoping for the best while trying to prepare for the worst. God, grant us wisdom and grace.)I've thought a lot about the time before we knew anything was wrong, how even the simplest of things brings on a new wave of grief as I struggle to embrace this new (potential) reality we find ourselves in. (The tears don't flow quite as freely now, but it's certainly a process--more of a marathon than a sprint.) I have come to the conclusion that I am not alone in feeling this way. That there was likely a time for every special needs family, a time forever known as Before--before the tests, the scans, a diagnosis--when the hope grew with an ever expanding belly and plans were made that didn't include durable medical equipment and frequent doctor visits.I've had opportunity to understand this sooner, but sometimes full knowledge is only gleaned through experience.Opportunity in my own family even. My grandmother is one of the strongest people I know. Until recently, when a series of devastating strokes took much of her physical ability away, she was my handicapped uncle's primary caregiver for more than fifty years. To me, that's the way it has always been. But not to my grandma. For her, there was a time when having a handicapped son was not her lot in life. And you might think that perhaps half a century's worth of time would be enough to forget the grief and the what-might-have-beens, but it would not seem that way. She and I only spoke about that season surrounding Arthur's birth (wherein he suffered from erythroblastosis fetalis, also known as Rh factor incompatibility) once, but it is a vivid memory for me; and even in my adolescence I could appreciate the very palpable and raw emotions just under the surface in the telling of her story.And yet another opportunity to understand. When my husband was born, he was two and a half months early and suffered a brain injury when he stopped breathing soon after birth. I had heard snippets of his story along the way, but I knew there must be more. Ella's condition has given me boldness to ask about what I might otherwise shy away from. One afternoon last month, I asked my mother-in-law about the circumstances of Chris' birth. You wouldn't know that she was describing events from more than thirty years ago; the fear, the questioning, the unknowns--these are things you never forget.
Welcome to Holland
I happened upon this essay in the first few days after we came home with a diagnosis for Ella. It is an excellent read for anyone walking the path of having a special needs child or trying to understand someone who is.
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WELCOME TO HOLLAND
byEmily Perl Kingsley.
c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland.""Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Getting Closer
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Roller Coaster Continues
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Busy Day Tomorrow
It's a slow, methodical process of elimination. We're just waiting to see what tomorrow brings.
Monday, June 15, 2009
We've arrived
Headed to Children's
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Back to the Lab and Then the EEG
Today, Megan had to keep Ella up all day in preparation for the EEG. It was a tough task, but she was successful in her endeavor. We had to keep her awake for the first portion of the EEG. She slept for the middle portion. Then, we had to wake her up again for the final portion.
To start, they measured her brain activity while they flashed a strobe light with different patterns in her eyes. We think she might've had a seizure just after the lights, but couldn't tell because it was so dark in the room and she was swaddled very tightly so as to restrict her movement. We were told it wasn't necessary for her to have a seizure while being monitored as the doctor would be able to tell regardless. Then, they measured activity during sleep, then wakefulness. She was so tired that she wouldn't wake up with me clapping as hard as I could in her ear. We used noisemakers and were jostling her to no avail. She finally woke up when we were about to put a wet rag on her face. Megan took pictures of Ella hooked up to all the electrodes, which I'm sure will be posted soon.
Megan writes:
"The EEG went well. We don't have results yet, but we have a little bit better understanding about what they might learn from it based on what may or may not have been in the tracing.
Now, we are waiting to see Dr. Balmakund on Thursday to go over the results of the EEG.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Holding Pattern
We don't have any major news on Ella, still waiting for what we hope will be a very productive and information-gleaning neurologist appointment in eight days. We go for the EEG on Friday, but I don't expect that they will be able to tell us anything right then; we will instead get the results from the neuro. After the pediatrician upped Ella's medicine on Thursday and a short adjustment period, E went almost 48 hours without seizures. They've started to breakthrough again in the last few days, about four to six times a day right now.
I wrote the following on my facebook page yesterday:
"I wanted to update, but I don't want to sound despondent or hopeless. I'm actually in a pretty good place right now.The seizures that she's had since starting the medicine are not as bad as before we went to the hospital, in my opinion. They used to come in clusters and now they are rare and isolated events. This is incredibly encouraging to me.I think we can manage with just a few breakthrough seizures if that's the best we can get with the medicine, but if we can find a dose, a different med, or a combo of meds that gives her seizure-free days for good, that of course is the goal.(She's at the maximum recommended dose (mg/kg/day), but her blood level was low enough last week, that maybe there's room to increase it yet?)I told Chris that I think (and hope) that this waiting period before our first appointment with the neurologist will be the most uncertainty we will experience."
Chris asked if there were any specific prayer requests that we could share regarding the EEG. First off, they want her to be sleep-deprived. (How exactly do you do that? Isn't it that they only sleep when you don't want them to? :) Please pray that I would know how to manage her day so she will stay awake and meet this requirement. For the test itself, pray that they would get a good reading and get it as quickly as possible. I think she may have to be strapped down during what I understand is--best-case scenario--a twenty-minute evaluation, so it is important to me that this be swift. Pray that she will hold still and not be too upset. And finally, please join us in praying that it is a normal EEG. True, if there is nothing to be found on the tracing, we may not get a diagnosis right now, but a normal result may be able to help the doctors rule out some of the more serious types of seizure disorders, which is our hope.
Thank you for checking in on us.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Grieving the loss of the Perfect Child
In the spring of 2004, I spent six weeks in maternal and newborn nursing. I did not have children of my own at the time and would not be pregnant with Jackson until that summer. In clinicals (hands-on experience in the hospital), I got to witness the miracle of birth and hold itty bitty babies in their early hours of life. It was an exciting, baby-fever-inducing season.
In addition to our hospital hours, we also spent time in the classroom. One lecture stands out to me above all the others, even five years later. During one tearful morning, our instructor guided us through a discussion about providing care and support to families in perinatal loss and the birth of special needs children. We talked about the grieving process in miscarriage and stillbirth, but then she said something that floored me; it was something along the lines of: "Additionally, when a child is born alive but with birth defects or chronic health problems, the family often needs to grieve the loss of the Perfect Child."
Whoa.
Being healthy myself, I assumed, as many women do, that I would have uneventful pregnancies and healthy babies. It never occurred to me to think otherwise. Intellectually, I knew that these things happen and that no one is immune, but no sense in being all doom and gloom, right? And besides, pregnant women have a tendency to be a bit on the paranoid side anyway, so why try to prepare oneself for such eventualities that statistically do not happen all too often (thankfully).
Even when--during my very first shift as an RN, while pregnant with Jackson--three out of my four pediatric patients had significant birth defects, I did not linger too long on the what-would-I-do-if's.
And fortunately, all three of my babies were born healthy. I counted fingers and toes, watched them take breath after breath, and felt peace in knowing that they were okay. Therefore I thought (assumed is a better word) that we were out of the woods on this one.
Fast forward to now. Where I'm trying to wrap my brain around this new reality we find ourselves in. The one where our baby girl has seizures and needs medicines and all manner of tests and such. In digging into why I have been tearful the last few days about all this, I am realizing that it is because I am indeed in this process of grieving (the loss of) the perfect child.
Now, please don't misunderstand me. I am not saying this perfect-child-ness is lost forever. I do not know what the future holds for Ella. I have no idea if this is a disorder that she will grow out of with no lasting effects or on the opposite side of the spectrum if she will be profoundly handicapped by it. I DO know that the latter is certainly possible. And that makes me sad.
Regardless of the outcome, however, I know that God has not forsaken my daughter. I know that I love her as much as I ever did, and that He loves her more than I ever could. By His grace, we will walk this road for as long as it is necessary, and we will continue to praise Him in the journey.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Appointment with Dr. Simmons
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Off to the lab
Thanks for weathering this storm with us. You guys are awesome!
The latest and thoughts from Megan
If I might share my nurse-y thoughts for a moment:
My theory is that the IV medicine that Ella got in the hospital is wearing off (it takes a long time with this one). The reason I think this is because the two periods of time where she's had seizures so far were just before her next dose of twice daily oral medicine was due. So, if that's what is going on, I'm guessing the next issue becomes: "Can her dose of phenobarbital be increased without risk of toxicity (undesirable side effects)? Or does she need a second medicine to try to keep the seizures at bay?"
If she is on medicine for any length of time, which does seem to be necessary *sigh*, they will routinely draw blood levels on her (I'm not sure how often) to make sure that the medicine is not reaching toxic levels or conversely that it is not too low to be considered therapeutic (effective). Since she is a baby and is growing exponentially right now, I expect that her dose will continue to be tweaked up to meet that growth.
I thought I would be overcome with fear if Ella continued to have seizures, but that has not been the case. Thank you for praying for me in this; I have no doubt that it is a supernatural peace that I feel. Thank you for loving on our daughter and loving on us.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Here we go again
Update
Ella had 2 little seizures at 9pm. They weren't as intense as those at the end of this week, but more like they were at the beginning of the week as shown in the video I posted. They were short and less pronounced. But, I knew what I was witnessing this time around. We will contact the doctor in the morning. It may be that her medication needs to be increased a little.

