Catching up & Moving on

The last time we'd taken Chrissy to her step-nan's (pictured) was over five years ago. The four-hour journey had been gruelling with a distraught Chrissy repeatedly undoing her seat belt, and screaming, self-injuring and wedging herself into tight spaces.

Last weekend's journey was very different. Apart from the odd burst of repetitive questions, Chrissy settled down in the front seat next to Ian and was content to watch the world go by. When we stopped off at a service station she never once tried to escape to explore the numerous glittering attractions we saw en route to the Ladies. Unheard of!

When we arrived at her nan's Chrissy rushed inside to greet her, grinning from ear to ear. 'I never thought we'd see her like this again,' her nan said, all teary eyed. 'I thought we'd lost her.'

I welled up too as I watched Chrissy taking everything in. She had seen her nan earlier this year when she'd come to stay with us, and she knew who she was. I'm not sure that she recognised the house though. Then her face lit up again as she spotted her sister, Alex, who had come down from Manchester. We hadn't told Chrissy she'd be there or she would have obsessed about it on the way up.



Chrissy is always thrilled to see her siblings. Normally, unless she sees someone regularly she struggles to remember them but she always knows who her younger brother, Jamie, and little sister, Alex, are. The evening went well but Chrissy ate voraciously. We are always trying to distract her and discourage her from overeating but at times, she constantly demands food.

Her happy mood gradually dissipated on Saturday. This often happens after she's been particularly bingey. Something kept coming over her - we never know what - but she suddenly becomes distressed for no discernible reason, and starts screaming, twisting her hands, bending her fingers back and pulling her hair, then she snaps out of it and gives us a beaming smile.

Another mum posted something on a forum that reminded me how difficult things once were for us, and for many other parents of children that have this rare disorder:

''My son's behavioural issues/outbursts/tantrums have escalated so intensely that we don't know what to do anymore. When he gets upset, which is often and for no reason, he is un-calmable. He is incapable of self-soothing, and literally needs me to physically calm him down, rubbing him, deep breathing - sometimes yelling to snap him out of his ritualistic obsessing. It's more than I can take right now and I'm not sure what to do. He woke last night with such emotionally disturbing tantrums and terrors that both my husband and I were in tears......''

Although this desperate mum's description propelled me back to dark times, it also made me realise how far we've come. Chrissy's behaviour will always present challenges to people that look after her but we attribute recent improvements to her revised meds regime. She's still on Prozac but off all antipsychotics. Her behavioural outbursts rarely escalate, her overall mood is much happier, and we can take her out. She continues to be far more alert and engaged in what's going on around her. Her hilarious, stream-of-consciousness observations are back too, giving away all our best-kept secrets! 'Nanny blue jacket, grey hair!' 'You don't like dogs do you mummy?' she declared to my mortification as her nan's adored border collie entered the room. 'Ian farts sometimes,' was another random pearler she uttered loudly and clearly in front of his family. She also threw in a few 'bastard shits' and a couple of 'fucks' for good measure.

The visit was a success, despite Chrissy's changeable mood, and seeing her pleasure at being around loved ones has helped me to re-evaluate what she needs from a supported living placement. I yearn with every fibre of my being to keep her close by where I can protect her and see her more often - but it's not about my needs as a mum - it has to be about what's best for Chrissy. Her psychiatrist and a housing adviser suggested that she'd be better off living in a nearby town. Good public transport links and local amenities would give her more choice of staff and activities, and she wouldn't keep bumping into me while she was out and about. I believe the benefits of living in a community that she's familiar with far outweigh the benefits that are being advocated for her living elsewhere. Chrissy would lead a more fulfilled life if her home was in a familiar place where she has connections to the local community and people that love and care about her. To gain these connections in an unfamiliar place would be a very forced and difficult process for someone that needs 24-hour care and functions at the level of a toddler. Are we in danger of using the 'one size fits all' approach to supported living that is all too often the reason why residential placements break down?

And if it is agreed that Chrissy should live in our village, will government policies dictate otherwise? The current housing and support system is failing many people with a learning disability, who face a lack of housing options due to welfare reforms and budget cuts. Housing benefit caps make rent unaffordable and, although Chrissy can apply for exemption, many private landlords won't accept tenants on benefits, let alone one with a learning disability. Social housing is also inaccessible in some rural areas with specific local connection eligibility criteria. Chrissy wasn't considered for the newly built affordable housing in the village because other applicants that have lived and worked here for years have a stronger local connection. Our only hope is that a suitable, reasonably priced house will come up for sale and a registered landlord will agree to purchase it, and rent it out to Chrissy, possibly in a shared ownership capacity. Struggling to unravel all the supported living red tape makes you wonder if it's delivering on its promise of offering more choice, control and inclusion.

Here, an excellent report by Mencap explores the barriers to successful independent living arrangements, and suggests a national strategy for housing people with a learning disability.
http://www.mencap.org.uk/download-housing-report



I am a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger

Eating Issues: A Special Saturday Post

Here, Chrissy is clutching her lunch-box in a carrier bag with its handles tied in a bow. Taking a packed lunch and indulging her food-related rituals enabled us to enjoy a trip to Exbury Gardens yesterday with her two nanas.

Chrissy has always been obsessive about food - from failing to thrive as a baby to over-eating as an adult. As a newborn Chrissy's suck was weak and she vomited frequently. Even as an infant, she suffered prolonged screaming bouts in which she would fling herself backwards as if in the grip of a painful spasm. I suspect she suffered from reflux as this is a characteristic of her chromosome disorder.

At her six week check I was advised to put her on solids as she wasn't gaining sufficient weight. The dramas at mealtimes began in earnest then. Chrissy choked, gagged and vomited her way through the weaning period, especially the stage 2 baby foods with lumps, as I agonised over where I was going wrong. I pureed her food for several years as she seemed unable to chew. The vomiting eventually eased but Chrissy's appetite remained poor. She limited her diet to a few select smooth foods, such as Petit Filous - the little fruit cream cheese pots, and Weatabix, mashed up with lots of milk.

Changes came gradually as Chrissy grew bigger and wanted the same foods as her siblings and peers - but she was still very picky and ate painfully slowly. When she was around 10 and anti-psychotics were introduced, her appetite increased and her diet became more varied. It got to the point where she'd eat anything and never seemed to feel full. Her weight decreased again when she went on Prozac and Naltrexone at 14, and during her six-month stint on a gluten and casein free diet. Her weight dropped to five stone when she was 22 and had the platelet problem. She would only eat cheese flan initially, then ate so little we wondered how she survived. After her hospitalisation, anti-psychotics were re-introduced on a daily basis, and she became increasingly obsessive about food. In fact, before her microdeletion was found she was even tested for Prader-Willi Syndrome, a genetic disorder characterised by over-eating and food obsession.

These days, Chrissy is overweight and her life revolves around food. She repeats the same food-related questions every couple of minutes 'what's for dinner?' 'What am I having?' 'Is it peanut butter?' etc. If we ignore her or don't answer in the right way she gets increasingly agitated and if she has to wait for food her obsessions will escalate into a self-injurious outburst. Due to these outbursts, particularly her stripping behaviours, we're very nervous about taking her out of the house. The trip to Exbury was a ridiculously ambitious plan but I knew that, for different reasons, it was a special place for Chrissy's nanas, and at this time of year it's at its most spectacular. We got there late - about 3.30 - because we couldn't rouse Chrissy from one of her sleepathons - but the long deep sleep had left her full of life, and she was thrilled to be there. The only heart-stopping moments came on the moving steam train when Chrissy announced several times with increasing urgency: 'I want to get off! Thankfully, Ian's iron grip, and our frantic distraction techniques and shameless bribery ('shall we open your picnic? What would you like next - cake or chocolate mousse?') worked a treat. She finished her picnic later in the most idyllic setting imaginable surrounded by a riot of colourful blooms, including the glorious rhododendrons Exbury Gardens are famed for. I'm so glad we decided to risk it. What a magical afternoon!

I am a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger

Good Care Planning & Changing Needs

'Hooray!!!'

We managed a walk to the village shop yesterday:-) There were a few hairy moments when we got there as Chrissy was like the proverbial kid in a sweet shop & got paralysed with indecision, then wanted everything in sight. Giving her a basket to put her goodies in reduced her anxiety (once she'd made it 'symmetrical' by re-arranging the handles). As we got near home I praised her for being a 'good lady' &, as you can see from the photo, she cheered!

I'd been inspired to take Chrissy out again after being told at her CPA (Care Planning Approach) meeting yesterday morning that her carers had taken her to M&S & a couple of other places without any major dramas.

Chrissy has two CPAs a year where the professionals and I sit around a table to discuss and plan her future care needs. Anyone with a range of complex needs like Chrissy's is entitled to have a care plan that's regularly assessed and reviewed. At the meeting everyone agreed that since recent drug changes Chrissy remains much more alert and interested in engaging with activities. The downside of this 'awakening' is that her outbursts are more violent, and she has hit staff and pushed tables over. We haven't seen this degree of aggression at home but she's more diva-ish than ever with a steely determination to get her own way. Last night she refused to go to bed until the early hours. There's no point in trying to force the issue so we turned all the downstairs lights off & left her to it. She soon came up and said 'you put me to bed,' but when we tried, she got caught up in her rituals, moving things around in her room so surfaces were clear and certain items, like her cover, were symmetrical. She kicked off several times but we got there in the end. We had the same rituals this morning at breakfast time. It tried my patience so much that I wanted to throttle her but Ian was amazing with her, & managed to de-escalate several potentially explosive situations by keeping calm and, somehow, just knowing exactly what to say & do at the right moment.

We still have some way to go before Chrissy is stable enough to leave the assessment and treatment unit and I still feel no clearer about what sort of home setup will suit her best. Now she is more alert her needs are changing and we need to look at a range of options. Cluster homes were suggested, which means that Chrissy would have her own space but be able to socialise when she chose. The commissioners can invite tenders from service providers, and we can be part of the interview and selection process. Right now, this seems to be the best way forward but we will have to see what can be provided locally.

I had been feeling very frustrated over how slowly things seemed to be moving, & the feeling that I'd had to drive every step forward, as described in previous blogs - but there's nothing like getting round a table to thrash things out with someone taking a strong lead - in this case Chrissy's impressive new psychiatrist.


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Epilepsy & Behaviour

Chrissy aged 10, with her chocolatey sister, Alex, 6

Since Chrissy's Topiramate has been swapped with Pregabalin, she's had two clusters of night-time seizures, one requiring rectal Diazepam. This is Chrissy's usual pattern but seizures were infrequent on Topiramate - the price she paid was being over-sedated, though not enough to quell her self-injurious outbursts. When her seizures started up again I hoped she'd get a break from her outbursts. They tend to be less severe during seizure cycles but this pattern has got less apparent as she's got older.

The reciprocal relationship between epilepsy and behaviour is recognised among medical professionals. It's like a pressure cooker releasing steam. Chrissy would have a build-up of challenging behaviours then seizures followed by a brief period of calm. When she was little I thought there was even more to it than that, and became convinced there was an epileptic component in the severe self-injurious outbursts. Chrissy's school teachers felt the same, and described the way 'something just came over her' as she sat doing something that she enjoyed. I became increasingly frustrated that health professionals were dismissing these outbursts as purely behavioural - as if they'd cease in a different environment.

When Chrissy was 10 my frustrations boiled over...

She was in Great Ormond Street Hospital for a routine MRI scan. A general anaesthetic was arranged because she wouldn't have co-operated, & she was given a pre-med. It sent her to sleep but she woke up when she was moved from her ward to the scanning room, and exploded into an outburst. She bashed her head repeatedly against the metal bars of her bed and tore at her skin. 'Now at last her neurologist will see one of these & organise investigations to find out what's going on,' I thought. How naive I was!

The hospital nurses were shocked at Chrissy's distress. One nurse, who'd worked in child psychiatry for years, said that she'd seen children with mental health problems in meltdowns before but this went way beyond that. Normally they gave up when they were exhausted but Chrissy appeared to be in the grip of something beyond her control.

The neurologist was called to the ward. He appeared, flanked by junior doctors, took one look at Chrissy, who was thrashing around on the floor by that point, and said: 'That's behaviour.'

As he turned on his heel to walk away, red mist descended & I threw questions at him like darts: 'If it's behavioural then how come she's had these from infancy? Why do they wake her at night? Why are they triggered by general anaesthetics & some medications? Why doesn't any intervention stop them? Why are they self-limiting? Why are they cyclic and worse in late afternoon? (as they were then) What about the strange physical symptoms - complaining about sore eyes, clawing at her face and extremities as if they hurt? What about the reciprocal relationship with the seizures?'

The neurologist insisted: 'What we're seeing now probably isn't the same as those you saw when she was a baby. This doesn't look like any seizure that I've seen. Epileptic episodes don't last as long as this. They're behavioural.'

I stormed off and had a good cry.

When I calmed down and returned to the ward, the neurologist took me into a side room and explained: 'I doubt that what I observed is caused by epileptic activity but I agree that there appears to be a reciprocal relationship between the seizures and behavioural outbursts. We really don't know what they are but behaviour sometimes worsens in children with epilepsy when seizures were well controlled.'

He decided to try a new anticonvulsant - Gabapentin.

Almost immediately Chrissy slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Two days later, the first thing I noticed when she came home from school was her smiley face and pink cheeks. (She looks pale & wretched when she's going through an outburst cycle). I asked her for a kiss. 'Screaming's gone.' she said.

Her teachers reported that she'd been 'brilliant,' amenable and well-behaved at school. I felt ridiculously emotional. Surely it was too early to be Gabapentin? Maybe it was a delayed reaction to all the pre-op sedation & general anaesthetic?

In fact, it was probably Chrissy's emergence from another bad cycle of outbursts but, when she's well, I always feel giddily optimistic that it will last. I rang friends and family to tell them about the change in her. 'Don't count your chickens....' they gently warned me.

Taken from my book: 'Bringing Up a Challenging Child at Home.'



I am a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger

Invisible in the Community

Chrissy (in purple, 2nd from right, at a MENCAP party aged 7)
It hit me when I was searching our family albums for another photo.

So many pictures of Chrissy engaging with people, fully involved in the hurly burly of life. Dressing up for Halloween and making 'witchy' faces with her sister; sitting at a table, eating birthday cake, surrounded by people and chaos; dancing around and introducing me to her peers at her 18th birthday party; giggling with her brother on a fairground ride.

What happened? How did we get to where we are today - in a locked ward on an assessment & treatment unit?

Despite the government's efforts to end social exclusion, people with learning disabilities are still amongst the most marginalised groups in society - but it isn't bullying or prejudice that makes Chrissy invisible in the community. She simply isn't able to function outside her comfort zone. The severity of her autism, stripping & self-injurious behaviours have effectively isolated her from the world.

Chrissy's involvement in family events has dwindled. She came to our wedding in 2003, albeit with two helpers, and a family christening a couple of years later. She managed (again with two helpers) for an hour or two at my 50th birthday party last September, which made my night. Now we can't even take her up the road to the village shop or, God forbid, to a restaurant.

It means that Chrissy's outings are restricted to our garden or the assessment & treatment unit's grounds. Even on good days, we can't risk taking her anywhere other than straight to the car when we take her back to the unit. She's too unpredictable.

Looking back, Chrissy had become increasingly difficult to manage as she'd grown bigger. Holidays together as a family and trips to the supermarket were the first to go. Then we had a few years' reprieve in her teens with the transforming medication regime before the most severe challenging behaviours kicked in again during her twenties. Her autism crept up on us - hand-flapping, turning switches on & off, getting stuck - unable to transition to the next activity, repetitive questions, turning items in her bedroom back-to-front - but, because she was still sociable and affectionate, it went undiagnosed until she was 22.

Have the effects of her chromosome disorder become more marked & pervasive as she's grown? Has her epilepsy, poorly controlled when she was little, caused brain damage? Should she have had the triple vaccines as an infant? Did behaviour management interventions come too late? Is some of her medication making her condition worse? There are no answers and it's a case of trial & error. For now, we make the most of the good days and continue to work on the rest.




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#Special Saturday Post: What My Daughter's Special Needs Are

Chrissy's magic hands

Chrissy's special needs are complex with moderate to severe learning disabilities, epilepsy, a rare chromsome disorder and challenging behaviour.

These labels gradually crept up on us. There was no defining moment when a doctor sat me down and told me that there was something wrong with my child, let alone what was wrong.

When Chrissy was born weighing 7 lb 6 oz after a straightforward first pregnancy and a long induced labour, I was bursting with pride - awed at the part I'd played in creating something so perfect. Friends and family agreed that she was one of the most flawless and alert-looking newborns they had ever seen. I called her my 'air traffic controller' because her hands waved around energetically whenever she was awake. Her brown eyes were bright and wide open as they gazed into mine.

We spent six days in hospital - standard for first babies then. Chrissy's suck was weak and she didn't feed well. Her weight dropped to under 6 lbs. Medical staff kept an eye on her but they weren't unduly concerned. Once home, Chrissy was a placid, sleepy baby. She failed to thrive and vomited up most of her feeds. She was noticeably floppy compared to other babies of a similar age. Concerned about her poor head control, her health visitor referred her to a paediatrician. I had no idea how significant these early signs were - just a slow, chilling realisation that this wasn't how things should be. I was 23 then and didn't know what had hit me.

Chrissy was late with all her developmental milestones and didn't walk until she was 22 months. Speech came slowly too but we put it down to glue ear - she had recurrent ear infections. I was told that Chrissy had 'developmental delay' but I assumed she'd catch up. She had her first seizure at 10 months, diagnosed as a febrile convulsion, then started having seizures without a temperature. Epilepsy was diagnosed when she was a year old.

Chrissy's behaviour was a big concern from infancy. She was an absolutely delightful, sunny-natured baby, but even then, she had intermittent prolonged screaming outbursts. Our GP put it down to colic, although Chrissy stiffened and arched backwards rather than drawing her knees up to her stomach. These screaming bouts have continued ever since, varying in intensity and nature. As soon as she was mobile, the screaming was accompanied by head-banging, then other types of self-injury as she grew older. She only ate a limited range of foods, and they had to be smooth as she had problems with chewing.

I was desperate for answers and wondered if something had happened during birth - my induced labour was long and difficult but there were no obvious complications. Her doctors weren't able to give me any answers. As of course there was no internet then, I scoured the local library for information, but I drew blanks. Brain scans and, later on, genetic tests, were all clear. Chrissy didn't look as if anything was wrong until she was about six although she was tiny and looked younger than her chronological age. Autism was ruled out. 'Autistic people don't speak,' her doctor said. A speech therapist described her speech as 'parrot-fashion' but said Chrissy was 'unautistic.'

When Chrissy was 15, I started writing my book 'Bringing Up a Challenging Child at Home: When Love Isn't Enough.' http://www.amazon.co.uk/Bringing-Challenging-Child-Home-Enough/dp/1853028746/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1319238962&sr=8-1

It helped me to celebrate Chrissy's uniqueness. I gave up my search for answers.

Then, seven years later came a breakthrough. A research project we'd taken part in revealed that Chrissy had a rare chromosome disorder, called 1q21.1 microdeletion. Not much was known about this newly discovered genetic condition but autism, learning disabilities and neuro-developmental disorders are associated with it. Chrissy's microdeletion is de novo, which means it occurred spontaneously. During the same year, purely by coincidence, Chrissy's psychologist was given the go-ahead to do a long-awaited autism assessment. Autism was confirmed. So much about Chrissy is explained by this diagnosis, hence our late learning curve.

Today, Chrissy's self-injurious outbursts blight her life more than ever but she can still be an absolute joy - affectionate, funny and full of endearing quirks, such as the 'magic hands' pictured. Her hands are still quite plump, like a baby's. 'Chrissy, do your magic hands,' we ask, and she's off, grinning like a Cheshire cat and rubbing those flappy hands together until they squeak.



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Bringing up a Challenging Child at Home: When Love is Not Enough

27 years ago today my first baby was born. I was 23. My rapture at having such a beautiful 'perfect' baby soon turned to a gradual chilling realisation that something was wrong. Initially, health professionals refused to take my concerns seriously & treated me like a neurotic first-time mum. As I searched for answers and struggled to cope with my daughter's violent cyclic outbursts, epilepsy, general sickliness & bizarre behaviour I felt very alone. Not knowing what is wrong with your child is like being lost in the wilderness without a map. In 1999 I decided to write a book about my experiences with Chrissy called 'Bringing up a Challenging Child at Home: When Love is Not Enough,' published by Jessica Kingsley, London. My book aims to offer practical advice for other parents and to give a unique insight into what it is like to bring up a very complex & unique child, who we now know to have severe autism & an extremely rare chromosome disorder.