Tag Archives: epilepsy

No further surgery for Jason.

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This day is here. Keep it together, keep calm, be strong. Feeling rough. Restless nights. Intestines keep complaining about their rather abrupt cleansing. Siobhan is coming to stay with Jason. Jason does not know that I am going to see Dr.B. I told him that I have an appointment for a check-up with my Doctor. This was one place that Jason did not ask to come with me, this, the dentist and the library!

Jason is in good humour this morning, excitement in the air of anticipating the time with his sister. A change in routine was good. Jason loved his sisters, loved being in their company, he knew that he had the best sisters any brother could ever want. Jason is back to living the day to its fullest. With Siobhan now here to listen for Jason I could concentrate on getting ready. Such a luxury to blow-dry my hair instead of the usual air-dry. Checking my watch, I was right on schedule. All dressed in my ‘off the farm’ outfit- my few pieces of clothing that weren’t horsey mucking out clothes. My ‘hospital bag’ packed early, already in the car so Jason wouldn’t spot it, packed with all the usual necessities and precautionary items : Jason’s medical file, Brain Tumour Assoc. reference book, extra pens, pack of tissues, bottle of ginger-ale, bottle of water, anti-diarrhea pills, anti-nausea pills,Tylenol, a sick bag, all bases covered, ready to aid me in any of those situations. Knowing I was prepared for any sudden affliction, gave me comfort. Now all I had to do, was to brush my teeth, and I’d be on my way. I am in the bathroom doing just that, when I hear a huge crashing sound of dishes coming from the kitchen. Running to the sound; it is Jason in the midst of an intense seizure. His right arm thrashing and he is heading over to the stove and is getting boxed in between the stove and nearby kitchen table. He is going off balance and I grab him from behind, now standing right behind him with my arms clasped around his chest. In Jason’s right hand he has a full bottle of uncapped diet coke tightly gripped and each time his arm swings up and back, the coke shoots out. 950ml of it. Small puddles of coke on the floor make it incredibly slippery. Coke is running off my hair, down onto my glasses and face. Clothes are wet. Siobhan hearing the commotion came running in to help, got Jason and I steadied, as any moment we were going down. With Siobhan now holding Jason, I opened my mouth to tell her that I will grab some towels to throw on the floor so we can get Jason out of there, and a mouthful of toothpaste liquid came drooling out cascading down my chin. The physical component of the seizure was now easing off. Quickly mopping up the coke with the towels before Jason became aware of the mess, I peered up at Siobhan. Needing to cock my head from side to side, attempting to get a clear visual of her, vision obstructed by the continuous trickle of Coke arriving on my lenses, Siobhan, with empathy, softly said, “I know this isn’t good, but, it is kind of funny.” Feeling the trickle dropping to my chin detouring around the drying streams of toothpaste, I became amused with what I must look like. We broke out into a giddy chuckle. It was a welcomed moment. Our friend ‘ Mr. Humour’ always ready to play and lighten the mood. Jason now safely out of there, clean clothes on him, hearing Siobhan reiterating to Jason that he had just had a small seizure, that everything was ok, I raced upstairs. I peeled off my soaked clothes and panicked trying to find something else to wear. All that I had were barn clothes. With no choice, on went an old pair of jean capris and a bright green t-shirt that said Boston Sports in large dark blue capital letters right across the chest. Now running late, I sped off in the truck remaining in the fast lane for the 30 minute drive. My coke-drenched hair dried quickly. It was hot, temperature in the high-30s and without air conditioning I had to drive with all of the windows down. That is, except for mine, the driver side window was broken. Hot air blowing in through the front passenger window caused my hair to have an extreme wind swept look,  sweeping everything to the left, up and over. By the time I got to the hospital my hair was wild and stiff, giving me a much startled frazzled look. There was no movement in my hair, it was set hard. My skin on my face felt unusually tight. Walking through the hospital and standing in the packed elevator I could feel the wide-eyed stares. All I kept thinking was thank goodness I didn’t run into any wasps in the parking lot; they would have been all over my head and followed me into the hospital.

Sarah came to the waiting room to get me. She appeared compassionately surprised by my state. I am not sure if it was the BOSTON SPORTS shouting out from across my chest or the shellacked spiked hair. Looking at her expression I could only imagine what she is thinking. Trying to justify my odd appearance, I started nervously babbling that I didn’t start out looking like this, that I was actually dressed nicely before and so on… My face is feeling so incredibly tight, facial movement feels restricted.  I could feel my eyes growing wider as it became obvious to me.. it’s the Coke. While casually trying to push down the spikes of hair, which was not a bright idea as the sticky coating flaked off in little bits, I could hear my voice going on about the advantages of coke on the hair, a better set than any ultra-hold hairspray…. My adrenaline and nerves were running off with me. All I wanted to do was pull out of this, thinking to myself why did I start? Knowing full well sometimes it is just better not to say anything and this was definitely one of those times. In walked Dr.B., this stopped everything. He asked Sarah to stay which had never, ever, happened before. Heart is racing and pounding. A few irregular heartbeats send an odd flutter up into my throat. Feeling nauseous. A sudden reach for my ginger-ale. We were right down to business. I knew that what I was about to see or hear was going to be a pivotal moment. I could sense the stressful tension of them knowing what I have yet to hear. Pulling up the latest MRI on the screen, I immediately saw the increases in size of the tumours that I was very familiar with. This most recent image showed a large increase in the anterior cranial fossa meningioma. It had more than doubled in size since the previous MRI of 8 weeks ago. Oh No! Poor Jason. This is what was causing the drastic change and debilitating pain. I am floating. As I stare at this lethal monster, my surroundings strangely feel weightless. Two new tumours are confirmed in this radiologist’s report and they were clearly announcing their presence before my eyes. NF2 was showing no mercy. The left mengioma tumour that was removed in Jan 2011 had triumphed in returning, putting Jason’s eyesight at risk again. Dr.B., “Jason would need two major brain surgeries.” I just shook my head. My mind took me back to Jason’s previous surgery, the incredibly difficult days for Jason in intensive care. It was touch and go in there a couple of times. I know that Jason cannot safely go through this again. Jason is weaker, reflected in his current weight of 154lbs compared to a consistent weight of 190lbs up until a few years ago. Dr.B., “So far Jason has done well and has been lucky that nothing has gone wrong, but inevitably something will….an uncontrollable, unforeseeable event.” The words Mortality and Morbidity were present. I asked, ” If Jason had a stroke would he be fully aware?” The answer was “Yes.” That very thought..Jason lying in a bed, immobilized, paralysed, blind, almost deaf, Jason freaking out in a state of panic was an unfathomable thought. An unfathomable situation for Jason and our family. We all knew that Jason would want to have surgery at all costs if he is made aware of the tumour threatening his sight. Jason would not digest the big picture. To Jason, not operating, leaving the tumour to naturally rob his sight would be unacceptable, I do know that. Dr.B. pointed out that Jason is at great risk of losing the optic nerve in surgery itself as there have been two previous resections in this very area; it just takes a change in blood supply to the nerve. My recurring nightmare of Jason being deaf and blind resurfaced in my mind. Prior to this meeting, Dr.B. and his colleagues had met for a round table discussion about Jason’s case, one of many, and the general consensus was not to do surgery, the majority thought the risks were far too high. I hear my voice, “What kind of time frame are we talking about?” I was out of body at this point. It sounded like a line in a movie. Dr.B. answered, “Well considering that this is ‘Jason’ we are talking about, it could be anywhere up to a year, at the most.” I am so afraid for Jason. So afraid for us all. My poor girls. I am dizzy and spinning with this fact closing over me. Trying to process what is happening here, it feels like something will snap in my head and I won’t be able to pull out. I want to scream and run to Jason as fast as I can, the need to save him but I know I can’t. My poor precious son. It was a very emotional appointment. I signed the forms or so I was told later on that I did. I arrived back home in a lightheaded daze, ‘Palliative Care’ information sheets hidden in amidst Jason’s medical file. Taking a deep breath as I removed my shoes, I hear Jason’s voice “Is that you Mum?” As I rise above the haze, cheerfully announcing my return, I approach the living room, digging deep to be ‘normal’. Smiling at my children, my heart hurt. Discovery channel was on; a welcomed distraction.

“The Kid’s in Trouble.”

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Hands pressed onto the wall to steady himself Jason stepped onto the scales…154 lbs..this number was a stranger. The nurse made the necessary adjustment for the amount of contrast dye. Seeing this low number caused a surge of anxiety within me. The nurse started an IV line into a vein on the back of Jason’s hand in preparation for the injection of contrast dye. Jason was booked for a lengthy MRI appointment. We had been given an emergency spot.

Jason was booked to have a full set of brain and cervical spine images taken without contrast. Jason will then be given the contrast dye and an enhanced second set of brain images will be taken. The MRI technicians with smiling friendly faces greeted Jason with a “Hey Bud”, giving Jason high 5’s. Jason really enjoyed the playful banter. We were familiar faces to them. With a smile and a nod I would get a “Hi Mom.” I always thanked them and was so grateful of my special privileges to accompany my son. Once I got Jason into the gowns and his belongings into a locker, I stayed in the Patients Only zone with Jason right up until the MRI started. This waiting area was most unnerving for me. Situated just on the other side of the MRI machines in a small alcove, there were 4 chairs in a row, placed tightly up against each other. Each chair occupied with a gowned patient, some with an IV, some not. Jason with the IV needle inserted into his hand, the line taped to his arm, sat patiently in a chair. I am standing beside him. Jason looking proudly amused as he watched me answering MRI related questions from the other patients. I became useful at instructing how to put the gowns on; first one goes on facing backwards, which I sometimes was asked to assist in tying. This was tricky, as people were undressed, so I did my best to keep my eyes lifted. The second one faces forward, which at times I would help guide their arms into, and then ties at the front like a dressing gown. An occasional reminder of removing jewelry and hair pins was needed. I always thought that this would be a good volunteer position. As I smiled and chatted with them helping to ease their anxiety I was very aware of Jason, my senses sharply tuned into him to catch a change in his breathing, the slightest sign of a hand moving too quickly, a foot lifting abruptly… This split second of catching these subtle changes made all the difference in the outcome of a seizure. The stress of knowing full well that if he had a seizure it would be horrendous, arms flailing, the IV line ripped out, equipment being knocked down, Jason falling over the chairs and people. It is all happening in my mind as I stand there.  I am appearing calm on the outside, well so I assume, but inside anxiety is raging as I play through each one of these possible scenarios. There were times when a seizure did occur in various hospital clinics. The intensity of the seizure in compact areas with equipment and people is a most terrifying time…dental clinic, eye clinic, hearing clinic… Wherever we would go I would immediately survey everything around me, planning my best escape route to get Jason out of there safely, keeping equipment upright, and most of all to avoid other people getting hurt.  It really was a miracle that Jason didn’t have a seizure while in the MRI machine since many had occurred soon after, in the truck, on the way home. The MRI scanner is a narrow tunnel; pillows and foam cushioning packed around Jason’s head with a velcro strap across his forehead, necessary restraining for clear pictures but a distressing thought in the event of a seizure. People I know have said, “you must be used to it all by now,” but you never get used to it. Seeing your child ill, going through these proceedures, is something you can never get used to. You just become better at keeping yourself together. Sure all is familiar but the stress level never gets any less; you just get better at concealing the worry, keeping the calm brave exterior, all for the sake of your children. When you have children you lose the freedom to be as down and pessimistic as you want and it forces you to be strong. Jason’s first set of scans are finished and he has just been injected with the contrast. The loud jackhammer knocking, banging, high pitched chirping, squeaking sounds resume. Throughout the next hour I could hear them talking to Jason through his headset, telling him the time and the sound involved with each picture, “Jason, this will be a 3 minute picture and this time it will be a loud, higher pitched sound, please remain still.” For the hour that Jason lay inside the MRI tube my senses are on full alert, watching for any sudden rise of activity in the monitoring room, looking for the tech’s reactions to see if they are shocked by what they see on their screens.

Jason’s headaches were debilitating. Tylenols 3’s w/Codeine alternating with Naproxen taken every 2 hours. Any type of noise intolerable. Dark sheets pinned above each window. No washing machine, no vacuum, no dishwasher, no TV…house as quiet as possible. This morning Jason was very lethargic. Internal panic set in. Messages laced with desperation had been sent to Sarah and Dr.B. detailing the decline in Jason and the urgent need for stronger pain medication. It was Monday morning, I called first thing and Dr.B. was already in surgery. Sarah would speak with him as soon as he came out. In this case it was best to wait for Dr.B. rather than take Jason to emergency. In the earlier years before my relationship with Sarah and Dr.B. was solid, before I had the privileged contact numbers, I did take Jason to emergency. We totally spun the resident neurosurgeons on their heads. I am explaining to them about Jason’s case as their eyes became larger and larger, me trying to mentally steady them as they stare off into Jason’s latest scans. I remember the two residents looking through the daunting medical file, a thickness of an encyclopedia..a relieved thankful response as one of them rushed off to photocopy my summarized notes. Jason arriving before them, a post-op patient of Dr.B, the Chief of Neurosurgery at the time, didn’t help with the resident’s stress level. It all ended well after a visit from the neurosurgeon on call. It was a steep learning curve that evening for the resident neurosurgeons.

We would wait for Dr.B.  Jason would have a rest. The pain and pressure in Jason’s head intensified when lying down, so he remained sitting up. Draping the blanket around the front of his body, tucking it in behind him, cushions propped, I pulled the coffee table in close. Jason interlaced his hands across his chest. Legs out in front crossed at the ankle now resting on the coffee table. A soft cushion under his feet and a blanket placed over the legs and feet. This was all done in silence; it was a dance that we had perfected over the years. As I would do the finishing touches tucking in any bits of blanket, I was flooded with this powerful feeling of nurturance. Maybe detecting this, Jason in a slurry voice coated with optimism, “It’s ok Mum, it will pass.” Jason would power down, he had this innate ability to go within, knowing at some point whether it be minutes, hours or days, that eventually this would pass, there will be a clearing up ahead, and this pain would be in the past. These three words ‘it will pass’ is a gift from Jason that I say to myself often. I sat beside Jason for much of that day in silence. Bathing in this deep silence I became aware of a shift. The atmosphere was noticeably pure, calm, and safe and it was in this unique kind of silence, that I could feel the light within me, the Mum, the caregiver, meeting the light within Jason, my son, the care person. Time, words, thoughts, images, were all absent.

My incoming email button lit up. It was Sarah…a prescription of Oxycodone has been called in and an MRI was booked for tonight at 9pm. Helping Jason up into the truck we went right away to pick up the prescription. Jason took an oxycodone pill with a swig of Coke in the truck and by the time we were home the pain was easing. Such an overwhelming sense of relief for Jason. Within a few hours we were back in the truck heading off to the hospital for the MRI. Jason was in good spirits. ‘Truck Tunes’ cd was playing. New pain medication had done its job. Jason was eager to have this MRI tonight to see what was going on. My worrying mind became distracted by an aroma of horses and barns. Oh dear!! I had been feeding and putting the horses to bed just before we left home and now in the confines of the heated truck it was very evident. I was heading into the hospital’s No Perfume Zone so there was nothing I could do; I just hope that there are some horse lovers at the clinic and that the air conditioning is on!!

The following days were overcome with anxiety. Anticipating the results was nerve-racking. I was so fearful for Jason. When my level of anxiety was like this, on overload, the floors and walls would appear to tilt. When outside tending to the horses, walking across the paddocks etc. the connection between my mind and the mechanics of walking was absent. Looking down at my legs I was rattled by the fact that I was walking with these legs but yet I didn’t feel like they were mine, they didn’t belong to me…a very detached feeling. The other morning I was driving my truck taking Jason to his favourite sports store and a white truck like mine was coming towards me. I thought to myself, “that must be Tom driving my truck, I wonder what he is doing coming home at this hour ?” when it hit me that I was driving my truck!!!!! This feeling really frightened me.

Sarah was on the phone; “results are in, Dr.B. is here, and he would like to speak with you.” My adrenaline skyrocketed. Dr.B.’s voice, “Fiona, the kid’s in trouble.”  I can’t even describe the feeling. With all my will I had to extinguish the panic and listen carefully to make notes; a new tumor growing right anterior fossa, anaplastic meningioma on left into nasal cavity growing, meningioma left parietal (behind ear) growing, acoustic neuromas  and neck tumours stable.

Dr.B.,” It will be a difficult decision on what to do next.”

Jason’s 29th Birthday

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An MRI was booked. Last week we had celebrated Jason’s 29th birthday. Jason loved birthdays, not just his own, he loved everyone’s birthday in his family. He loved the anticipation of presents, who was coming?  what food were we having? and the best part, ‘the cake’. Jason’s youngest sister Kelsey is an accomplished baker and Jason loved her baked cheesecake decorated with fruit in a glaze; such an incredible taste and a work of art. Jason’s face would light right up when Kelsey placed the cake dotted with glowing candles down in front of him. It was a special time. Thankfully on this July 12th it was a good day for Jason and he was full of joy!!!! So was everybody else!!

Jason’s daily seizures, headaches and  dizziness had worsened. Jason now needed lots of help. It was very difficult. Seeing this decline caused such a sense of uneasiness that was with me everywhere and it wouldn’t go away. I was so afraid for Jason.  Jason was getting words mixed up or else couldn’t remember what things were called-not all the time but it was happening, whereas 2 months ago this was not. Jason was displaying episodes of paranoia and obsessive behaviour which was new. Jason’s questions about anything and everything were constant to me. If there was a blessing in all of this, if you could call it that, it was the fact that Jason didn’t appear to be bothered or worried about any of these issues. Of course the key was not to react and gently help him out, like ‘no big deal’, as we would recall the words for him. Jason would kind of giggle at times with us in this situation which was a welcomed lightness at this time of anguish. Jason just carried on not concerned over what was happening…this wouldn’t have been the case before. It was exactly as Jason’s Doctor had told me four or five years ago “This will be hell on you Fiona watching this, but as time goes by Jason’s realization of what is happening now, compared to before, will become less.” He was right; this is exactly what was happening.

When it was a good day for Jason, when headaches were kept at bay with Tylenol 3s and Advil and he wasn’t too dizzy, Jason would seize the day and want to make the most out of it. This meant getting off the farm and going out into civilization where there were lots of  people, cars, and stores. Places of potential danger. Stress of keeping him safe in a seizure. Jason would love to go and spend time in his favourite stores. The clerks knew us well and Jason loved to have a little chat with them. They were always so pleased to see him. This was a good feeling for Jason and for me too to see Jason in this way. Jason was so courteous to strangers, insisting on holding doors open for people no matter how he felt. When we would go out on these little trips there was nearly always a sense of humour present, some joking and laughter in the truck while ‘Mom’s Truck Tunes’ cd was playing. Jason had compiled 4 cds of our favourite rock tunes, ‘Mom’s Truck Tunes Volume 1 through to 4’. Once back home he would usually like to watch the Discovery Channel while playing on his laptop. He would order up his favourite sandwiches….a pb and j (peanut butter and jam) or a pb and b (peanut butter and banana) usually accompanied with a glass of milk and 2 Tylenol 3s.

Jason would normally then have a nap lying on the couch and that is when I would dash back out to the barns to do as much work as possible before he woke up. If Jason had not yet had a seizure that day I was very nervous about leaving him unattended. In a heightened state I would muck a stall, then run back to the house,  peek in the window to make sure he was still sleeping and if so, run back to the barn andmuck another stall and so on….

Seamus, our golden retreiver, thought this was great fun!

 

 

Striving for employment.

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Resume and College diploma now in hand, Jason was determined to find a job. With a list of printing businesses and Jason’s portfolio carefully placed on the back seat, we climbed into the heavy duty 4×4 truck and set off for the city. Internally I was very nervous about this as seizures were increasing in number and intensity, changes were happening, and I was really worried. Keeping this locked within, I looked over at Jason with a smiling excited proud face to match Jason’s face as he looked back at me with a beaming smile. Such a wave of emotion. There he sat so smartly dressed clutching his file wanting more than anything to have a job like a regular guy.

Jason thrived when earning a paycheck. Beginning in his early teens Jason overcame challenges to hold a job in a sports store, a restaurant and then an animation studio. Some of Jason’s summer jobs had been labour intensive; dirty sweaty work, sweeping parking lots and hauling around wheelbarrows brimming with bricks and cement. Jason insisted on doing these jobs despite having just completed five weeks of cranial radiation. How he managed to push that heavy wheelbarrow around in 30C degree heat with depleted energy, poor balance, and generally feeling ill, was a witnessing of unsurpassable determination. As a Mum, to stand by and watch this child battle through his day wrenched every part of me but the stamina and perseverance that Jason had was a force I knew to leave alone, it was his life force. I knew that no matter what was happening, my role was to provide the strength, optimism and encouragement that Jason looked into me for and so at 5am with a big smile I would wave bye to him and wait for my phone to ring. Jason’s power of his mind and determined inner strength was extraordinary …the way he was able to overcome the effects of his illness until he could no longer was the force behind me.

Approaching the city, time was running out for me, I couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. With my queasy stomach in a knot I had to bring up the dreaded word ‘seizures’.  I’m sure Jason was waiting for this conversation since we had covered everything else on the drive in and maybe he was hoping it would go away. I guess by not mentioning it and ignoring it just for a little while, we could pretend it wasn’t there. But the blatant reality was,the unwelcome presence of these looming seizures was very much there, and they came with Jason. I delicately told Jason that when speaking with the manager it was best to be up front about his epilepsy at the beginning as it would be unfair to the business upon hiring him to not be aware of this until a seizure happened. Understandably he was extremely frustrated. He really hated the fact that these seizures were in his way again. Having to do this really tore into me but Jason did agree and understood the liability. Jason asked if I would tell them about the seizures and so upon meeting the various managers Jason would give me the floor to do my part. We knew that Jason’s epilepsy had a high probability of being a deterrent, as this had happened before.  At the College’s Open House Jason’s work had caught the eye of a successful large printing company. They had approached Jason which was so exciting and they were very interested up until they became aware of Jason’s epilepsy.

Climbing in and out of the truck about 6 or 7 times we worked our way through the list. The Managers at each and every place were impressed with Jason’s portfolio which was wonderful for him to hear. I was thankful how extremely gracious they were to Jason telling him that if any positions became available they would let him know. Upon the closing of conversation they would meet my eyes and silently agree that this determined young man that stood before them was a beacon of profound human spirit. They appeared to be in awe; here they were just going about their day, just a regular day and then Jason appeared wanting to work despite obvious challenges from illness. In this silent exchange I would get the feeling that they were glad that we walked through their doors that day, to have met this inspirational force. As the doors closed behind us, the twinges of sadness settled deep in my heart as I knew what mountains Jason had to climb to be able to walk into those businesses on that day.

Jason was becoming disillusioned; checking every day online for jobs and making calls and nothing…

I took Jason to the Disability Support Work Program office and of no surprise Jason qualified for work placement assistance.  This was a big step for Jason since he had always refused any special help always just wanting to be like a ‘regular’ person. Thankfully Jason warmed up to these people once he realised that this was his chance, they were on his side. They would approach businesses on Jason’s behalf and find an employer that would be comfortable with Jason’s epilepsy. It was a wonderful organization and Jason became at ease with them. They had also accepted my offer of shadowing Jason at a job or hiring a medical person to be with him if this would improve Jason’s opportunities.

Jason was discouraged. The only jobs offered to him were menial jobs… such as stocking shelves or stuffing envelopes. Hearing that and knowing Jason had heard that, caused everything inside me to drop and sink;I was sure my heart cracked. Jason dipped his head shaking it in disbelief. How brutal. I could not protect Jason and buffer this harsh reality. The truth was now staring Jason right in the face.

Little did we know while sitting in that office, Jason was soon to meet his biggest challenge. NF2 had succeeded in rearing its ugly head again. The focus on the job therefore promptly faded into the background.

Jason- Age 24

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The 24th year of Jason’s life was one of turmoil.

It came on full blown one morning. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Jason started having extremely terrifying illusions, such as when he looked at his beloved dog and at me we appeared to have our throats slashed. Jason was absolutely terrified. It was awful. I didn’t know what was happening. Poor Jason. I rushed Jason down to the hospital and Jason was admitted for two weeks in total. Tests and MRIs were done as tumour growth was suspected as the culprit. MRIs , scans showed no significant changes in the existing brain tumours. It was a very distressing time and all I could do was to be there from morning until night(apart from going home to do horses) to be at his side to comfort and reassure. Jason would see a building and it would appear to be blown up, buildings appearing on fire, danger everywhere, repetitive disturbing words going over and over kept tormenting Jason’s mind. Jason was fully aware that these images were not real but was very frightened by the persistence and by the lack of control. It was so horrible. Drs couldn’t find the exact cause.  A psychiatric team was brought in to do an evaluation and quickly concluded that Jason was not psychotic or depressed but that his symptoms were organic, an organic change in brain chemistry due to the brain tumours, seizures along with disturbances to the brain caused by radiation and surgery. Jason was given Olanzapine which helped to calm him. The neurologists suggested taking Jason off his current anti-seizure drug Topamax since this drug can sometimes have psychotic side effects. Jason had been on this drug for quite some time with no previous problems. They replaced this with Keppra. This played havoc on Jason’s body and seizures. Keppra did not agree with Jason and the disturbances were still happening unless he was sedated with Olanzapine. Jason was getting very discouraged so Celexa was added to the mix. Despite everything the sense of humour was still there. The medical team were great with Jason and enjoyed our banter. I know they were humbled by Jason.

We went home. Gradually the disturbing images and voices went away. Jason off and on would have ‘head rushes’ along with sweaty palms and racing heart rate. Right away I would think brain stem, the regulator of heart rate and breathing. My constant worry was the ever present threat of the left acoustic neuroma(hearing) tumour growing just enough to put the slightest increase of added pressure to his brain stem causing it to shift and Jason would be in serious trouble. Daily life was very difficult from early morning to late at night trying to care for Jason, 2 teenage daughters and operate an active horse boarding stable.

Jason’s seizure activity gradually worsened over the next few months.Recent EEG video testing showed very high activity. Neurologists stopped the drug Keppra and started Jason on Trileptal.   His balance became very poor, sometimes falling right over and causing injury. My Jason radar was on high alert constantly. After alerting Jason’s neurosurgeon of the drastic change an MRI was ordered. There glowing on the screen was the culprit ,a new tumour, a left temporal meningioma brain tumour. The spinal tumour on the C1/2 also had grown considerably. NF2 had reared it’s ugly head again. Seizures were getting worse. Neurologists stopped the Trileptal and started Carbamazepine and Clobazam. This was the best combination of drugs to agree with Jason. Jason’s neurologist said there was nothing more that they could do here in Ottawa but recommended Jason to be seen in Montreal. We were referred to the Montreal Neurological Hospital(MNI), to the Epilepsy monitoring unit. They would monitor Jason 24hours a day for 3-4 weeks and decide if surgery was possible and safe to give Jason a better quality of life. I needed to get Jason there now. To get in proved to be very difficult, almost impossible. A limited number of beds and the waiting list was long. At the end of my long isolating laneway  I sat day after day at my kitchen table phoning anyone at the MNI that would listen to me. I was fighting for my son. I jumped through hoops, hit road blocks I just couldn’t seem to get the right person who would really listen to me, to want to listen, to help…to try to understand what was happening in this little farm house day after day….UNTIL….the day I wouldn’t back down on this robot type person on the other end and to get rid of me she transferred me to this friendly helpful sounding voice. I knew I had reached the right person, the right office, the office of power and decisions. I explained Jason’s story, my worry and how it was for me and she listened.

“Jason is currently having 3 or more seizures a day. He does not have any kind of aura so there is no warning. Whilst in the seizure Jason is unaware of his surroundings and self. The seizures are very physical, arms/legs flailing and thrashing. He is not conscious of where he is walking, arms swinging out with such strength. Whatever Jason happens to have in his hands when the seizure strikes is held in a vice grip. This is very dangerous at times. I try to hold him from behind , arms around his midbody to guide him out of the way of obstacles and to hold him up if he starts to lose his balance. There are numerous times that I have gone down with him trying to soften his fall. He is a solid 185lbs and it takes everything I have got to guide him out of danger. It is insanely stressful waiting for these explosive seizures to happen at any time of the day. While in a seizure Jason has hurt himself several times in the shower by falling, he currently has bruised ribs from a bad fall last week, had swellings on the back of his head from falling back and hitting his head on the table, he has burnt his hands, while in a seizure he plunged his hands into a casserole that had just come out of the oven and the list of accidents goes on. The brain does not register anything so Jason is not in control or aware of anything. We have stairs in our house and I am very worried about him falling down them when in a seizure. We are constantly on the alert listening out for Jason and knowing where he is at all times. Jason has two younger sisters and they are constantly listening for him and ready to help. We all are. Driving, shopping, being out in crowded areas etc is hazardous. Everywhere is a potential danger for Jason and the worry and anxiety is overwhelming for the family to try to keep him safe. My hearing and intuition has become very refined and sharp.  I have become acutely tuned into Jason’s way of being…his breathing, his swallowing, the sound of his foot meeting the floor, his gait and his ways. I constantly have a radar on Jason so that I can pick up when any one of these functions alters even just the slightest. This is my warning that a seizure is to start right now. This was how it is to try to keep him safe. No matter what I am doing wether talking to the girls,or friends, putting dishes away, laundry..normal house activites I appear (well I think I do!) that I am engaged which I am  but I ALWAYS have an ear on Jason. There are two tracks running constantly. It is like I am running at a high frequency. After the physical part of the seizure subsides then Jason is very confused for about 20 mins. “Is it morning time or night time?” checking his watch. The brain doesn’t register light or dark. I tell him “It is daytime love, 2 o’clock in the afternoon….just after lunch”. Jason checks his watch again. “Oh, ok” “Where’s Mum, where’s Mum?” with a panic in his voice. I say “You have just had a small seizure love that’s all so if you can just wait a few minutes it will all come back to you”. Then he realises it is me, I am Mum and we both have a chuckle. Yes, sense of humour we have. Jason is always very concerned about what happens in the seizure as sometimes he would see the aftermath once he has come too and he feels really bad about it. Jason is the gentlest caring soul I know and he would be shattered knowing all that happens at times. It is a frightening feeling for Jason having no control and no recollection. I decided early on that if Jason is going to be plagued with this I will make it as least traumatic as possible so when Jason is safely sitting after the seizure and is in a dazed confused state I  run around cleaning up any broken items, spilled liquids, righting up furniture etc. I  have about 15-20 mins. before Jason is completely aware of his surroundings. Then everything goes back to ‘normal”.

 

She never interrupted me except for an occasional compassionate sound coming from the back of her throat. When I finished she was so sensitive and compassionate. She got what I was saying, really understood everything and agreed that Jason needed to be seen soon. She would see what she could do and promised to get back to me. I couldn’t believe it she was like a guardian angel. I told her so and I will never forget what she did for me through the years. After I hung up I just wept …such relief and all the frustration and fight was now dissolved. Somebody out there now knew what was happening here and was going to help us.