I am reveling in the fact that my son actually thinks I am cool...for now. I know that very soon I will be old, uncool, out of style, boring, dorky...you get the gist. So when Coulby looked at me the other day and said, "Guess what. You ROCK, mommy!," it made me stop in my tracks to say, with as much surprise as gratitude, "Thanks, Coulby!" Coulby's exclamation surprised me because I did not know he even knew that expression, and rendered me speechless because no one has thought of me that way in F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Those days of being cool seemed to be long gone. And now my son thinks I rock! I will take it while I can.
The ironic part about it all is that I think Coulby rocks! He is such an awesome kid, and I am not just saying that because he is my son. He just rocks. Coulby has endured more, experienced more, suffered more, and overcome more than most kids his age. And he has done it all with grace. And a little bit of attitude. I give him that because, well, he has earned it.
Coulby started kindergarten in August, and as much as I hated seeing him get on the bus to ride into the deep blue germ-infested yonder, I knew he needed that. My stomach got tied up in knots knowing that he would be in school all day this school year, and therefore exposed to a full day's worth of germs instead of only a pre-k 2.5 hours' worth. But Coulby loves school. I mean absolutely loves it! I knew my fears of germs and illness could not, no, would not, get in the way of Coulby's natural progression to the next step in his education. So off he went.
No one knows what it is like to have thoughts of kids coughing without covering their mouths, or sneezing into the open air, or wiping snotty noses with their hands and then touching everything around them, swirling through the brain. Thoughts of colds and flu, especially the hyped-up H1N1 virus. That is what I think about all the time. Protecting Coulby from all of that. Ways that I can teach him to stay clean and healthy. Ways that I can teach him to avoid everyone who appears to be ill. But how can I do that? I mean without putting the poor kid in a bubble?
Despite all of my best efforts to keep germs at bay, Coulby brought home a nasty cold several weeks in to school. He made it through that like a champ. Then on Thursday morning he woke up warm to the touch. His temperature was 101.2 and he complained of a stomach ache. When I told Coulby that he had to stay home from school that day, while masking my worry that kicks in whenever Coulby gets sick, he retracted his complaints of a stomach ache and said he was fine. He actually started crying because I would not let him go to school. That is how much he loves it! (We shall see if that lasts into the next several years when he is bringing home school work and studying for tests.) Coulby seemed to look a little more tired than usual, with puffy red rings under his eyes, but other than that, I would not have known he was sick. He was playing, talking, running around, and still had an appetite. Then I got a call. One of the kids in his class was confirmed to have H1N1. My stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.
My body went into overdrive after that phone call. Calls to the geneticist, calls to the dietitian, Internet searches on symptoms of swine flu...anything that I thought would help us get through this illness at home. And we did! Coulby had a fever for days that only broke yesterday evening, and has maintained his normal energy level during the whole thing. This has been another obstacle overcome, at home, by my brave boy.
And to this I say, "You ROCK, Coulby!"
Showing posts with label germs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label germs. Show all posts
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Sick...again!
"Now make sure you keep your hands really clean, do not get near sick friends, wash your hands after playing in centers, and remember to use lots and lots of Purell." Coulby has heard me say this so many times that he has actually started reciting parts of it to me right before he gets on to the school bus to enter the germy world of public schools. In some part of my brain, I foolishly believed that this daily recitation would prevent Coulby from participating in the 'pass-the-virus-on' preschool game, from which he has brought home colds and other assorted illnesses. I suppose Coulby would have to live in a bubble in order to avoid ever getting sick, which we all know is not even an option.
What is my point? Coulby is sick...yet again! He was just sick about a month ago with some nasty stomach virus, which was hard on him, stressful on us, but still managed at home. In the last few days, Coulby has gone from having a runny nose, to being stuffed up, to a nasty cough, fever, and loss of appetite. Dealing with the cold symptoms: piece of cake. Dealing with the fever and loss of appetite: well, that on top of his Citrullinemia is extremely stressful and exhausting. For all of us.
Coulby's body can react to a fever by drawing stores from his body, which can cause excess protein in his system and possible hyperammonemia. We have to treat the fever with round-the-clock Motrin, and also make sure his protein intake is less than his expected daily intake. We also have to make sure that Coulby is drinking plenty of fluids, preferably those with calories. This will ensure ideal hydration and flushing of his system. By keeping caloric intake up, Coulby's body will be less likely to draw from its own protein stores to replenish his system and make him get better.
With all of this said, you can see why we dread Coulby being sick. There is the constant care to make sure he is getting what he needs to not only get better, but also to maintain his metabolic stability. Fear of hospitalization triggers stress. When he does not want to eat, he is not getting what he needs to prevent hospitalization. When he does not drink, he is not keeping himself hydrated and can end up becoming hyperammonemic. The average cold turns into a nightmare.
I pray that we can get Coulby through this cold here at home, and we are doing everything in our power to do just that. Please pray for him. For an appetite. For no more fever. For healing.
What is my point? Coulby is sick...yet again! He was just sick about a month ago with some nasty stomach virus, which was hard on him, stressful on us, but still managed at home. In the last few days, Coulby has gone from having a runny nose, to being stuffed up, to a nasty cough, fever, and loss of appetite. Dealing with the cold symptoms: piece of cake. Dealing with the fever and loss of appetite: well, that on top of his Citrullinemia is extremely stressful and exhausting. For all of us.
Coulby's body can react to a fever by drawing stores from his body, which can cause excess protein in his system and possible hyperammonemia. We have to treat the fever with round-the-clock Motrin, and also make sure his protein intake is less than his expected daily intake. We also have to make sure that Coulby is drinking plenty of fluids, preferably those with calories. This will ensure ideal hydration and flushing of his system. By keeping caloric intake up, Coulby's body will be less likely to draw from its own protein stores to replenish his system and make him get better.
With all of this said, you can see why we dread Coulby being sick. There is the constant care to make sure he is getting what he needs to not only get better, but also to maintain his metabolic stability. Fear of hospitalization triggers stress. When he does not want to eat, he is not getting what he needs to prevent hospitalization. When he does not drink, he is not keeping himself hydrated and can end up becoming hyperammonemic. The average cold turns into a nightmare.
I pray that we can get Coulby through this cold here at home, and we are doing everything in our power to do just that. Please pray for him. For an appetite. For no more fever. For healing.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Balancing Act
So I have never been one to blog, but I finally felt like blogging might be the answer to educating people about Urea Cycle Disorders. Why would I want to do this? Because I live a Citrulllinemia life. Well, not me specifically, but as the parent of a 4.5 year old with a chronic metabolic disorder, I live the life of caretaker, with one object: to maintain the balance.
My story starts without too much excitement...well, maybe it is kind of exciting, considering I started my marriage with the excitement of the coming new year just over 6 years ago. Yup, I was crazy enough to want to get married on 12/31. And you know what? It was a BLAST!! People still talk about it. The party of a lifetime! I digress...I married my high school sweetheart just over 6 years ago. We have had a happy marriage, balancing the normal upkeep of a healthy marriage, a crazy work schedule (his!), and eventually, the priceless chaos that two adorable children add to our lives. It has always seemed that life has been perfect for us. Everything has fallen in to place easily. We have not had to struggle for much. Our marriage is happy. We have a boy and a girl-the best of both worlds. P-E-R-F-E-C-T. But how boring would life be if it was perfect? Right?
I became pregnant easily when we had been married for about 7 months. We did not waste time! I had the epitome of the perfect (there is that word again!) pregnancy. Our son decided not to make his entrance into this world until he was good and ready, which just happened to be on his daddy's birthday! 1 in 365 chance...what are the odds of that? I guess it happens, but we just thought that was the coolest thing. What a birthday present! I have never outdone it, as you can imagine. Coulby Patrick was a big boy, weighing in at 8 lbs. 1.5 oz. He was healthy and beautiful and his daddy's pride and joy from the moment he was born.
We settled in to our new life as a family of 3, and went through the usual uncertainties of being new parents. Despite our inexperience, at 4 days old, Coulby seemed to be doing just fine, doing all of the things newborns do. Crying, sleeping, eating, pooping...the norm. Nothing unusual. So when we received a phone call from the pediatrician's office alerting us that Coulby's newborn screen had yielded some alarming results, we were both in shock. We were told to take him to Johns Hopkins ER immediately. "They" would be waiting for us. We asked questions, and the only thing the pediatrician seemed to be able to tell us was that the situation could be life threatening. No directions to the hospital. No explanations as to what these numbers might mean. Nothing.
That began our Citrullinemia story. We somehow made it to Hopkins, although for the life of me I could not tell you how. I barely remember riding there. I was numb. We arrived, and sure enough, "they" were waiting for us. "They" turned out to be genetic doctors, as well as a slew of nurses and other assorted people. Coulby had to have blood work done, and an IV put in his tiny arm, his 4-day-old arm, which apparently had teeny tiny veins, because he was poked about 10 or so times before they finally got the IV in successfully. He screamed. We cried. It was the most helpless feeling I have ever felt in my entire life. That night someone found us a room in the hospital so we could get some sleep. Actually, it was more like a utility closet with 2 twin beds squeezed from wall to wall. My husband and I could not even sleep in the same bed that night, to comfort each other and ease each other's fears. We held hands between the beds and prayed. Hard.
When we woke up the next morning and realized the entire night before had not been a dream, we went to be with our baby and find out what was going on. It was confirmed that Coulby's initial newborn screen had yielded accurate results, which meant a diagnosis of a rare metabolic disorder, more specifically, a urea cycle disorder, called Citrullinemia. Huh? That is what we thought, too. It was scary and foreign to us. We sat down at a large conference-type table surrounded by genetic doctors, our two sets of parents, and other people I do not recall. We were educated on what Citrullinemia is, what it meant for our son, and what it would mean for us.
Citrullinemia is a urea cycle disorder in which the body is unable to break down excess protein. This can lead to a toxic build up of ammonia in the body, also known as hyperammonemia. At such toxic levels, hyperammonemia can lead to neurological damage, coma, and even death. It requires immediate treatment of IV fluids and medications. In order to balance protein intake, Coulby was going to need a high calorie, low protein diet, in which all food and drink consumed would need to be weighed on a scale and logged each day. Protein and calorie requirements would be based on growth and blood tests. Coulby would require routine check-ups at Hopkins. In addition to all of this, he would also need two medications daily: Argenine and Sodium Phenylbuterate (Buphenyl). These would be mixed into a powdered formula and consumed that way. And it does not stop there. Because the body naturally draws from protein stores in the bones when fighting illness, Coulby could get an excess amount of protein if he were to become ill. The excess protein would cause, you guessed it, hyperammonemia. You must realize that hyperammonemia is extremely serious, and is time-sensitive in terms of getting treatment. It might only be a matter of hours before brain damage occurs.
This was scary stuff! No one could predict how well Coulby would respond to IV therapy, if he already had brain damage, and how much of his life he would be spending in the hospital. We were told to be "cautiously optimistic." Not too promising, so it seemed.
4.5 years later Coulby is a happy, healthy little boy who is full of life and full of spirit! He was later diagnosed as having partial Citrullinemia, because he in fact has some enzyme function. We have hit rough spots along the way, but he is doing far better than anyone anticipated, and than we could have dreamed he would that first night at Hopkins. Coulby has spent nights in the hospital with dangerously high ammonias, has battled illnesses, some of which landed him in the hospital, has maintained the balance of his metabolic needs despite being a picky eater from the start, and endured many, MANY blood draws and IVs. And he is still smiling. Still thriving. Still charming everyone he meets. Still growing and learning and living the life we hoped he would. He started pre-school at the start of the school year, which was a big step for us, being germophobic and all.
And this is our life. Anticipating hospitalizations, but not living for them. Fearing germs and illness, but not hiding from them. Living the ups and downs of Citrullinemia, but learning and growing from each one. We see the blessings in this life we have been given; this awesome boy we call our son. He teaches me something new every day.
*Keep following my story and learn more about Citrullinemia and our family. Check out the link under A Citrullinemia Life to learn more about Urea Cycle Disorders and what you can do to help!
My story starts without too much excitement...well, maybe it is kind of exciting, considering I started my marriage with the excitement of the coming new year just over 6 years ago. Yup, I was crazy enough to want to get married on 12/31. And you know what? It was a BLAST!! People still talk about it. The party of a lifetime! I digress...I married my high school sweetheart just over 6 years ago. We have had a happy marriage, balancing the normal upkeep of a healthy marriage, a crazy work schedule (his!), and eventually, the priceless chaos that two adorable children add to our lives. It has always seemed that life has been perfect for us. Everything has fallen in to place easily. We have not had to struggle for much. Our marriage is happy. We have a boy and a girl-the best of both worlds. P-E-R-F-E-C-T. But how boring would life be if it was perfect? Right?
I became pregnant easily when we had been married for about 7 months. We did not waste time! I had the epitome of the perfect (there is that word again!) pregnancy. Our son decided not to make his entrance into this world until he was good and ready, which just happened to be on his daddy's birthday! 1 in 365 chance...what are the odds of that? I guess it happens, but we just thought that was the coolest thing. What a birthday present! I have never outdone it, as you can imagine. Coulby Patrick was a big boy, weighing in at 8 lbs. 1.5 oz. He was healthy and beautiful and his daddy's pride and joy from the moment he was born.
We settled in to our new life as a family of 3, and went through the usual uncertainties of being new parents. Despite our inexperience, at 4 days old, Coulby seemed to be doing just fine, doing all of the things newborns do. Crying, sleeping, eating, pooping...the norm. Nothing unusual. So when we received a phone call from the pediatrician's office alerting us that Coulby's newborn screen had yielded some alarming results, we were both in shock. We were told to take him to Johns Hopkins ER immediately. "They" would be waiting for us. We asked questions, and the only thing the pediatrician seemed to be able to tell us was that the situation could be life threatening. No directions to the hospital. No explanations as to what these numbers might mean. Nothing.
That began our Citrullinemia story. We somehow made it to Hopkins, although for the life of me I could not tell you how. I barely remember riding there. I was numb. We arrived, and sure enough, "they" were waiting for us. "They" turned out to be genetic doctors, as well as a slew of nurses and other assorted people. Coulby had to have blood work done, and an IV put in his tiny arm, his 4-day-old arm, which apparently had teeny tiny veins, because he was poked about 10 or so times before they finally got the IV in successfully. He screamed. We cried. It was the most helpless feeling I have ever felt in my entire life. That night someone found us a room in the hospital so we could get some sleep. Actually, it was more like a utility closet with 2 twin beds squeezed from wall to wall. My husband and I could not even sleep in the same bed that night, to comfort each other and ease each other's fears. We held hands between the beds and prayed. Hard.
When we woke up the next morning and realized the entire night before had not been a dream, we went to be with our baby and find out what was going on. It was confirmed that Coulby's initial newborn screen had yielded accurate results, which meant a diagnosis of a rare metabolic disorder, more specifically, a urea cycle disorder, called Citrullinemia. Huh? That is what we thought, too. It was scary and foreign to us. We sat down at a large conference-type table surrounded by genetic doctors, our two sets of parents, and other people I do not recall. We were educated on what Citrullinemia is, what it meant for our son, and what it would mean for us.
Citrullinemia is a urea cycle disorder in which the body is unable to break down excess protein. This can lead to a toxic build up of ammonia in the body, also known as hyperammonemia. At such toxic levels, hyperammonemia can lead to neurological damage, coma, and even death. It requires immediate treatment of IV fluids and medications. In order to balance protein intake, Coulby was going to need a high calorie, low protein diet, in which all food and drink consumed would need to be weighed on a scale and logged each day. Protein and calorie requirements would be based on growth and blood tests. Coulby would require routine check-ups at Hopkins. In addition to all of this, he would also need two medications daily: Argenine and Sodium Phenylbuterate (Buphenyl). These would be mixed into a powdered formula and consumed that way. And it does not stop there. Because the body naturally draws from protein stores in the bones when fighting illness, Coulby could get an excess amount of protein if he were to become ill. The excess protein would cause, you guessed it, hyperammonemia. You must realize that hyperammonemia is extremely serious, and is time-sensitive in terms of getting treatment. It might only be a matter of hours before brain damage occurs.
This was scary stuff! No one could predict how well Coulby would respond to IV therapy, if he already had brain damage, and how much of his life he would be spending in the hospital. We were told to be "cautiously optimistic." Not too promising, so it seemed.
4.5 years later Coulby is a happy, healthy little boy who is full of life and full of spirit! He was later diagnosed as having partial Citrullinemia, because he in fact has some enzyme function. We have hit rough spots along the way, but he is doing far better than anyone anticipated, and than we could have dreamed he would that first night at Hopkins. Coulby has spent nights in the hospital with dangerously high ammonias, has battled illnesses, some of which landed him in the hospital, has maintained the balance of his metabolic needs despite being a picky eater from the start, and endured many, MANY blood draws and IVs. And he is still smiling. Still thriving. Still charming everyone he meets. Still growing and learning and living the life we hoped he would. He started pre-school at the start of the school year, which was a big step for us, being germophobic and all.
And this is our life. Anticipating hospitalizations, but not living for them. Fearing germs and illness, but not hiding from them. Living the ups and downs of Citrullinemia, but learning and growing from each one. We see the blessings in this life we have been given; this awesome boy we call our son. He teaches me something new every day.
*Keep following my story and learn more about Citrullinemia and our family. Check out the link under A Citrullinemia Life to learn more about Urea Cycle Disorders and what you can do to help!
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