Living in hospital!

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Tilly FaceTimes with her class at Byron Bay Public School as she gets ready to go home.

Holly macarolly!  We have spent one third of this year in hospital since Matilda was diagnosed with Anti NMDA encephalitis and this was on the back of her previous long stay in hospital for HSV encephalitis and two years of rehab. Tilly hasn’t attended school since March! I cannot calculate how many lumbar punctures, EEGs, cannula insertions/IV treatments, medications or obs procedures Matilda has been through. Her dad and I have been like ships in the night taking it in shifts to be in the hospital and haven’t spent a whole night together for over four months. Her big brother has had to take on a whole new level of household chores but also independence and freedom.

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Slumber party – parents’s bed next to Tilly’s.

Living in hospital for so long (and its our second time) I think has potentially changed me forever. I like being organised and running my own show but living in a large children’s hospital means that you are always at the whim of other people’s schedules and timetables. I have always been a light sleeper but find now that I can tolerate way more noise after sharing a room all night with an AIN (assistant in nursing) squirming around on a noisy chair (as they watch Tilly for seizures) and beeps, bells and buzzers going off continually. I have always hated being cold at night but now find myself sleeping and driving with the windows wide open as a reaction to constant air-conditioning in the hospital.

So here are some of my (the mum) tips on not just surviving but thriving (well so some degree) during long stays in hospital:

  • Food: Our hospital food is pretty damned good actually but we still bring lots of food from home. Really this is to cater for Matilda’s preferences (well ,hey what else do you have when your really sick!), health issues (Matilda put on a lot of weight due to drugs and inactivity so we wanted food that was high protein but low carbs/sugar) and fresh, crunchy veggies (hospitals can really kill broccoli).
  • Exercise: Even on bad days we try to get Matilda up and about, if only to walk around the ward but preferably to go outside and get some fresh air & sun. When she started having ‘drop seizures’ the staff were keen for her to be in a helmet and wheelchair. We developed a ‘hands or helmet’ policy. This meant so long as we had our hands on her so she wouldn’t fall, we didn’t need the chair….so more walking. I’ve done a stack of ‘Dunny Yoga’ (yoga in the ensuite bathroom) whilst she sleeps with my head out the door so I can see if she has a seizure. I try when I am at home to jump into the ocean, have a walk (man, I almost had a coronary walking up to the lighthouse!), go rollerskating or get to a yoga class. It’s hard to cast off the idea that this is a luxury but when you a stuck in a room most days it is imperative.
  • Accepting help: It is ridiculous and amazing how hard it can be to accept help from people. Why are we taught top try to stand alone? It is so stupid and doesn’t help anyone. Our community has been fantastic. We have been supported in a million ways – house cleaning, donations, drawings and songs, laundry folded, prepared food, shopping done, visits form friends and family, sitting with Matilda, shoulders to cry on, treats like books and massages, hours of FaceTime….the list is endless and every little thing has stopped us from going totally doolally and freaking out.
  • Making: Every member of our family makes stuff. Matilda makes things for her fairy house. Reuben builds Gundams and planes. Marty joins in the plane building, general fixing and carves spoons. I crochet, knit and  dabble in spoon carving too. All this making helps us to move our brains away from focusing on fear and towards creativity and positivity. It is mindfulness in action. I am convinced that for us focusing on making stuff has been crucial to keeping us going.
  • Don’t wait to be told stuff:  I love our hospital and the staff but I can’t tell the number of times we have had to chase things up, find out when procedures were going to be done, what was happening with medication, has an AIN been booked or the letter we needed get written. They are big places, the teams change frequently, people go on leave, have babies, change jobs and sometimes things get missed. As a friend with a child who has a disability told me – you are not on this journey to make friends. Being respectful  & understanding of the systems limitations is important but ask for what you want, ask when you don’t understand – never presume that they have your kid covered. Thats our job! As parents/carers are the only people who can really create ‘continuity of care’ for our loved ones. So don’t be shy.
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Byron-ish decorating touches.

It is strange because for all that living in hospital is a nightmare and at times just a drag, it is often when we are at home that anxiety and fear hit us. It is then that we toss and turn and become overwhelmed by too many thoughts flooding our minds as we try to imagine how the future will be (or maybe thats just our Koalas making too much noise).

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“Why are there lots of tiny people in your phone?” asks the captain.

Bringing Matilda home soon does not mean ‘going back to normal’. It is more akin to hitting a total ‘reset’ button. Although the cast and crew of our play are all the same, the script has been totally rewritten. Today I am having an OPTOMUCHTIC (too much optimism) day and feel like we have all been given the opportunity to be better versions of our selves as individuals and as a family and that dealing with this crappy situation is going to help us to listen and understand each other more, rather than the trench warfare that adolescent years can often being with family members firmly fixed in immovable positions. But you know if you had asked me on Friday after speaking with the consultant psychologist I probably just would have bawled my eyes out and admitted that I can’t imagine what the future will be like.

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Fast asleep after an exhausting visit to the hospital school.

So for now we have to just hope that our plan to come home in a week will come off. We have had a few ‘drop seizures’ today and we just need for them to stay at a reasonable level! Then we will have the fun process of looking for support workers to help us and dealing with the NDIS. What fun!

A year and a half on…

Whoa its hard to believe that it has been five whole months since my last post! Just getting on with LIFE took everything thang we had and there was nothing spare to document and share our experiences. But I am ‘back in the saddle’ so to speak. I love the wonderful interaction I have with people regarding the blog, whether its right here in town as I apply sunblock to the kids at the local pool or from far, far away. I’m keen as mustard to start posting about a whole range of stuff we are going to try this year but first lets have a wee look back at where we have come from.

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June 2015 Matilda in intensive care and hardly responsive.
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Matilda circa 2016! Rockin pink hair ends!

A year ago I started to write a post that I never completed. It was to be called ‘Meanies everywhere.’ which was a phrase Matilda used one night when frustration overwhelmed her and reading it now I can feel the pain of those days. It went like this:

You know I planned this as a blog about treatment and rehab. But as time goes on learning words seems far less imperative to learning LIFE. Matilda rails against having to practice the skills she once knew and this week has tearfully explained that her friends don’t want to play with her at school. She says she asks them to play with her but they say they are playing with someone else and she can’t play too. This is so common at school where alliances form and change on a daily basis but for Matilda it says one thing. There are ‘meanies everywhere’. Mum and dad are forcing me to do all this horrible work and now my friends don’t want to play with me. As she scratches at my face, rips up her homework book, pulls at her own hair and says that she wishes she was dead, I keep insisting that we move forward, finish the work and hold her tight in a sweaty hug. I feel like a meanie. I also truly believe in my heart that if I don’t help her to recover the best I can, if I take the easy complacent route, that I will be a meanie too. As with her friends who need time away from her strange social skills and are not mean, I am not mean either but bloody hell I feel it!-

Reading that a year after I had written it wrenched at my heart but also made me realise just how far we have come. It must have been a bad day as her friends have been great! Yesterday Reuben started high school and Matilda started with a new teacher and class aide. Everything was a little topsy turvy with a couple of our standard glitches but pretty much all family members had a likeable, interesting day and there was no mention of ‘meanies’ lurking. The kids both exuded an overwhelming sense that despite the hot, sweaty  weather…..everything was COOL!

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2016 ended with a bang. Matilda won a Shining Star award at her dance performance and Reuben was ‘dux’ of Year 6 after a really weird year – proud parents!

The crazy thing is that this is not because of some ‘magic pill’ that has ‘fixed’ our lovely Matilda or that she doesn’t still struggle on daily basis with what she has lost and dealing with the consequences of her acquired brain injury. It is simply that we, as a family, now operate like a well orchestrated machine (most of the time). We work together to lessen the chances of blowout and when they do sneak up on us, we all act to neutralise any negative feelings as quickly as possible.

This high level of awareness or ‘being on call’ in your own home/life all the time can and does take it’s toll at times. The restrictions of what we can and can’t do in a day, where we can for holidays (Is there 24 hr emergency department near by? How long is the drive? Is there a quiet space for day sleeps? ) and feeling very timetabled (medication and meals at set times, has enough water been drunk, is there the right kind of food in the house and watching her 100% when swimming because of seizures etc) can really grind you down even though they are the very things that enable Matilda to function as well as she does, to be as MATILDA as she can be.

We have also learnt the power of accepting help from our wonderful friends, family and community. Just one example is a wonderful friend who enabled us to have less anxious nights by having a device fitted under Matilda’s mattress that sets off an alarm if she has a seizure.  Without it we would have spent half of our nights sleeping on her floor with one eye open. The respite that this has given us has been immeasurable! We may soon be able to move onto a similar device that she wears on her wrist that we are experimenting with at the moment. Such generosity and thoughtfulness has repeatedly stopped our ‘titanic’ from sinking.

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Mostly we’re working on not sinking but have the occaisional “flying” moment like Jack & Rose (Titanic 1997).

So here’s a snap short of our  ‘HAPPY BRAIN – HAPPY HOME MANTRA’

  • water  – a least 1 1/2 litres over the day – little bits all day.
  • protein – at every meal and snack times (argh that can be a killer to work out).
  • exercise – a daily dose and even better if it challenges balance or dual tasking.
  • sleep – regular, good quality, lots of it and not when overtired or at wits end.
  • seizure monitors – oh that peace of mind for parents!
  • get outta here – have breaks away from home/change of scene.
  • socialising – trying to sustain everyone’s friendships…even if only tiny doses.
  • fun – replacing memories of hospital and loses with good times.
  • therapy – keep going back there, teaching to mastery, reteach when forgotten.
  • technology – looking at software/apps that may help with memory/literacy/typing
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Powerpoint for talking with Matilda’s class about her Encephalitis and seizures. Its a little emotionally exhausting for both of us but SO WORTH IT!

And my final mantra item is HONESTY. We try to call a spade a spade – with Matilda, with each other and the world. We talk openly with her about having ‘a big scar’ on her brain and don’t make promises like ‘everything is gonna come back if you work hard’ that may not be true. I tell my friends when I feeling ground down or like I want to run away from home. Reuben tells us when he has had a gut full too. If all else fails there is always yoga, kite boarding or singing the songs from Matilda the Musical at top volume in the car!

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“Never again, will I doubt it when my mummy says I’m a miracle” – Revolting Children

So bring on 2017. I’m really looking forward to sharing whatever mischief we get up to!