Tuesday, February 23, 2010

How my journey in the Undiagnosed Realm Got Started, What I have Learned and What I am doing About it.

 Hi Baby, I sat down and tried to write about what you and I went through and what I am doing about it.  This is what I wrote:

Cal was five years old when he passed away on December 13, 2006. But for three years preceding his death, Cal suffered a gradually progressive course of declining heath that took him from a walking, talking, happy two year old to a little boy trapped in a body that was wasting away. He lost the ability to walk on his own, he suffered from several broken bones from simple falls, chronic vomiting, constipation, deteriorating fine and gross motor skills, diminished ability to eat on his own, failure to thrive, and seizures to name a few. When Cal died, he was a shadow of his former self; he suffered in silence because he also lost the ability to speak. The only way he could communicate with his family, friends and doctors was through facial expressions, body language, and various other signs of emotion such as crying or laughing.

For three years I sought in vain to find someone who could tell me what was wrong with him. Over and over again, I was told, “We can’t tell you what this is, but we can tell you what it isn’t.” All the tests we had run did nothing to further our investigation, but only planted us right back at square one every time. Even more distressing was the fact that each of Cal’s specialists cited statistics as to how many children they had seen within their respective practices that they could actually render a diagnosis for. Cal’s neuromuscular specialist told me that he could only diagnose 40 to 60 percent of the children he saw. The genetic counselor also told me that they were only able to diagnose 50 percent of the children they saw, the other half severely affected by some unknown disease like Cal.

I also asked several of them if there was any way for me to promote Cal’s case to the general public, because I could not believe that Cal was the only child on God’s green earth that had whatever disease it was he had. Someone, somewhere, had to have seen a child like Cal before. Each time I asked, I was told that there was no such way to get Cal’s case out there. Maybe one doctor would “by happenstance” speak to another doctor at a convention or something, but that was about it. So, we were continually sent home with no hope, no plan, and with no idea of what would happen next. I knew in my heart that my son was dying, and I felt consumed by the sense that his time with us ticking away. Yet there was not a damn thing I could do about it. Nobody seemed to have the same sense of urgency to save Cal’s life or find an answer as I did. On December 13, 2006, as I held my son in my arms, as he took his last breath, I vowed that I would do whatever I could to make sure that what Cal went through would not be in vain. That I would help other children like him, so that they and their loved ones would not have to go through what he and I did.

Today, most people take for granted that there is a diagnosis for everything. People can’t grasp the concept that Cal did not have a diagnosis. How, in this day and age, could a little boy die and none of his doctors be able to ascertain the cause? It is because of this mindset that those who are undiagnosed fall through the cracks in our current health care system. With the big fight to reform our health care system, we have been focusing on costs, quality, and access. However, there’s a group of people out there who feel they do have access to affordable, quality health care, and the system has still failed them.

Parents of undiagnosed children are continually set to sail in the dark; adults suffering from undiagnosed diseases don’t fare any better. Whether you are a child or an adult, unless you have a diagnosis that the doctors can work with, you don’t have an identity. And without an identity, you don’t exist and you surely don’t receive the benefit of the research and resources afforded to those suffering from a diagnosed disease.

Through my own research I found that there is no one agency to which all undiagnosed cases are reported. As a result, there are no viable statistics on the numbers or types of undiagnosed cases there are within the United States – much less any on-going research into the issue. The National Human Genome Research Institute cites on its website:

“Physicians will sometimes say that a child has an “undiagnosed rare condition” or an “undiagnosed genetic condition” when they are unable to find a diagnosis for certain characteristics or symptoms. In fact, finding an underlying diagnosis for many conditions can be a very long and frustrating experience. A diagnosis can take as many as five years, and occasionally may never happen, especially with rare conditions. In addition, some experts say that between 30 to 40 percent of children with special needs do not have an exact diagnosis.” (http://www.genome.gov/17515951)

So, I came up with the idea for an Undiagnosed Disease Registry. I thought that if we could have other disease registries, such as SEER registries for Cancer, why not one devoted to undiagnosed cases?

In May/June 2008, I approached doctors at the NIH Undiagnosed Diseases Program and at the Office of Rare Diseases about my idea. Needless to say, that initiative did not take root. While these docs are great at what they are doing, they were not interested in helping me get the Registry developed and put into action.

So, I then proposed the idea to my State Representative. H.B. 2294: Texas Undiagnosed Reporting Act was proposed by State Representative Dan Gattis during the recent Texas Legislative Session. However, the bill did not get passed.

Not putting all my eggs in one basket, I also contacted my U.S. Representative John Carter. In May of 2009, Representative Carter proposed H.R. 2538: The Charles August “CAL” Long Undiagnosed Diseases Registry Act of 2009. If passed, this legislation would require the CDC to create a National Undiagnosed Diseases Registry. Right now H.R. 2538, the CAL Registry, is sitting with the House Committee on Energy and Commerce. The bill has five co-sponsors and Rep. Carter’s office is actively recruiting others. Unfortunately, the current health care reform debate is taking a lot of our Congressmen/women’s attention so Cal’s bill is not moving like I would have hoped.

I have a Facebook Causes site called Project Considering All Lives which currently has over 1,000 members. I use this as a tool to get the word out about the bill and encourage the members to reach out to their Representatives and request that they co-sponsor the bill and help it get through committee etc.

I fondly refer to the Registry as "The CAL Registry" because NUDR just does not have that special ring to it. It is my hope that when the CAL Registry gets created, all of the undiagnosed cases will start to get the attention they deserve, and then maybe resources and research will follow. I can only hope that the work I am doing will someday be the beacon of light guiding those sailing in the undiagnosed waters so that they can find their way to a safe harbor.

Aside from my work on the Bill in the House, I am also working on getting a National Professional Physicians Networking site built called CALLABOR8.com.

Louis Lasagna drafted the modern version of the Hippocratic Oath in 1967. One of the oath components was a paragraph that stated, " I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patients recovery".

CALLABOR8.com will be the first physician networking site of its kind. There are other sites out there for physician to physician networking but they are not devoted solving undiagnosed cases. CALLABOR8.com would work like a cross breed of E-Harmony, Match.com and Realtor.com all in one. Primary Care Providers handling undiagnosed cases will have the ability to register their case, enter in certain information about their patient (not revealing the individual's identity) and CALLABOR8.com will give the physician a listing of other cases that best match the case he/she is working on. Then the physician can contact the other physicians with cases in common and start COLLABORATING on them to the benefit of the patient.

Only time will tell if either of these initiatives will come to fruition, but I have the time and I hop that it does not take too long since every day that goes by is another day lost by those suffering from an undiagnosed disease.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Sorry I have not written in a while

Hi Baby,

Sorry I have not written in a while.  You know how busy I have been.  You have the best view in th house so you know that we are still running 90 miles an hour in 10 different directions.  You also know that every night before I close my eyes, I think of you and send my love your way.  You also know that every time I hug or kiss on your sisters, I am thinking about you because you taught me to not take them for granted and to love them unconditionally and without reservation.  I never forget to tell them that I love them.

Did you just see your sister Emily walk in here to my office with her face all made up with black lipstick, eyeshadow and blush.  I even believe she crimped her hair.  I bet you are laughing  right now thinking how weird she is.  I know I am.  WOW!    She just walked into the livingroom.  Yeah, I know  you heard your dad's reaction.  Bless his heart, he does not know what to do with this house full of females. 

Emily is just experimenting, trying to figure out who she is.  Hey, do me a favor and inspire her to be less  radical.

Are you getting a kick out of watching your little sister pull Emily's hair like you used to? Emily complains about it, but I know she is loving it.  Emily misses you so much.  Holland has given Emily a renewed outlook on life.  Holland is helping to heal the wounds left from your death.  Thank you for sending her to us.

Well baby, I know this is not much, but I am really tired.  I have to get up early in the morning and get Emily ready for her last Volleyball game.  PawPaw Gus is getting ready to turn 80 at the end of this month.  Keep an eye on him too.  I know he misses you more than he will ever admit.  What is it with the men in this family?  They don't want to show any weakness.  They feel that if they allow themselves to greive, it is a sign of weakness.  But I see it completely different.  I think that a man's ability to greive is a sign of strength.  Your dad needs to do some emotional weight lifting.  He just has to find the right spotter - see what you can do to help him  out little man.

I love you!

Mommy

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Happy 8th Birthday

Hi Baby,

I want to wish you a Happy Birthday.  You would have been 8 last Friday.  To celebrate, Emily and I went and got ice cream.  Then that night, your dad and I went out for dinner and you were the star of our conversation.  Then your dad took me to a reputable tattoo parlour and I got a tattoo on my right shoulder blade.

The tattoo is the Japanese symbol  for turtle.  I had it put on my back, right shoulder blade.

The tattooing hurt like heck,  but it did not last long.  I am glad that I did it though.  I have been wanting to get a tattoo in your memory for some time now.  I know, it is not like me to get a tattoo.  But....

I remember the day you were born.  October 23, 2009.  We chose that date because we wanted you to share your birthday with your dad's Aunt Barbara.  Aunt Barbara also had special needs.  She was born with Down Syndrome.  How ironic that you and she would both have special needs.

I am sure that Aunt Barbara is keeping you company now though.

Well, I  know that this is short,but I am  trying to keep this light.  Your birthday is supposed to be a happy day.  I am grateful for the time that I had with you and I am blessed to have had the priviledge to be your mother. 

Happy 8th Birthday baby.

I love you.

Mom

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Your Baby Sister Holland Had Surgery for Ear Tubes

Dearest Cal,

I meant to write yesterday, but by the end of the evening I was so very emotionally and physically tired.  Daddy and I had to get up at 4:45 in the morning to get your baby sister to the childrens' surgery center to have tubes put in her ears.

I guess I really did not realize how something so simple as ear tube surgery could jostle me so much emotionally.  In my mind, I knew that the procedure for the ear tube placement was very minor and the risks were low, but for the mommy in me it was very difficult to watch the nurse take Holland from my arms and disappear behind the swinging doors that led to the operating room.


How many times did I watch you disappear behind those doors?  Too many.  I remember when you had your tonsils and adenoids removed at 2 years of age.  Again, the surgery to do this is relatively minor and it is done on a very routine basis. But it was this surgery that sticks out in my memories as the "beginning of the end" for you. 

Holland's surgery yesterday made me think of all the tests and procedures I allowed to be done to you. It made me question whether or not the decisions I made for you were the right ones. Well, let me rephrase that... Holland's surgery made me question my decisions with you again.  Which I have done over and over and over.  It's just that this time was different because Holland was involved this time and I did not want to make the same mistakes with her that I often felt I made with you.

Each and everytime I had to surrender you to the arms of a nurse or watch you wheeled away on a bed into some other procedure or test, I felt so helpless.  I could not go with you and I could only pray that those to whom I entrusted your life to would take as good of care of you as I did. 

I also worried about whether or not you realized what was going on and if you were scared.  I was angry at myself for not being able to protect you from the fear  and the pain I knew you were experiencing.  What kind of mother was I if I could not protect you.  Cal, please know that if I could have prevented you from having to go through that, I would have.  Were you ever angry with me?  Did you think that I did not care for you or love you when I gave you up to those you were scared of?
 
Cal, I would have given anything for you not to have had to go through what you did.  There is not a day that goes by that I do not feel guilty for it. Did I make the right decisions?  Did I take you to the right doctors?  Did I act fast enough or fight hard enough?  Baby, I was only doing what I thought was best for you.  I wanted so badly for the doctors to find out what was wrong so that we could figure out how to fight it together and make you well...to save your life.

Sometimes I feel that was the wrong thing to do, that I should have just let you be and spare you from all the testing, the therapies and doctor's visits, etc.  But then again, how could I have let this still unknown disease take you without a fight.  I felt that if I figured out what was going on, I could protect you better. I couldn't just do nothing.  I had to fight - fight for you.  I had to be your mother, your champion.

But that battle I waged with this unknown disease was ultimately fought at your expense,  wasn't it baby?  In the end you ended up being the one who paid for it with your life.  You were the casualty of war and I left the battle field with my life, albeit I am still a prisoner of our war.

If I had to do it over again, would I do it the same way?  I can't say.  I can't live in the past and wonder what if?  All I can do is move forward and use my experience with you to guide the decisions I make on behalf of your sisters.  I am a lot smarter now than I was then.  Everything with you was trial and error.  I know that I won't be perfect for your sisters.  I can only do my best.

Anyway, Holland made it through the surgery without any problems.  When the nurse put her back in my arms, I hugged her tight and thanked God for watching over her and for keeping me sane.  ha ha.  I also have to say that your daddy does a great job of keeping me grounded.  Every time something happens with your sisters that involves their health, he keeps the rope around my ankle to keep me from going into orbit.  I could not do it without him.

Well, I have to get back to work.  I love you!

Love,

Mommy

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

My First Letter

Dearest Baby Boy,

It has been 2 years, 9 months and 3 days since your last day with us, but who's counting.  There is not a day that goes by that I do not long to hear your voice and hold you in my arms. You are always on my mind.  You know that because I silently talk to you every night before I go to bed.  This little practice helps me deal with the realization that I am ending another day without you.

Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that you passed and then there are days when it seems like forever.  There is a little part of me that is still in denial abou the whole thing.  To that part of me, you are just "away" somewhere and you will eventually be back. Crazy huh? You and I both know that is not going to happen.  Those little lapses of reality are short lived and serve only to give me a brief moment of reprieve from my constant longing and pain that your absence has left me with.

Don't worry baby, I do not blame you for the pain and longing.  They are testiments to the great little boy you were while you were here.  I feel blessed to have been chosen by you to be your mom.  No mother could have asked for a better little boy.  You and I had a bond that I can't explain in words because there are none.  You gave me such joy and provided me with countless hours of laughter and amazement.  In the short time that you were with me, you opened my eyes to what it is like to have a child with special needs.  You taught me to not take for granted that you were born with ten fingers and ten toes and to love unconditionally and without reserve.  You taught me what it is like to be strong.  There were so many days that I told myself, "if Cal can bear it, so can I".  You are my inspiration and you are the reason that I hug and kiss Emily and Holland as often as I can telling them how much they mean to me.

Oh, well.  Just writing this short note has been both hard, rewarding and healing.  I hope that through my letters to you - there will be more - I can help another mom who is going through the same thing as I did by putting into words what she cannot or is not able to.

Well baby, that is all for now.  Remember that mommy loves you and misses you dearly.  You are my inspiration and my strength.

I love you.

Mommy