This is Eli

A blog about Eli. A blog about survival – and by that, I mean life!

I spoke to a woman named Pam who has two sons with cystic fibrosis.

They have the same type of the disease that Mark and I unknowingly passed along to our son, the f508 mutation. Eli has a copy from each of us. However, her sons’ illnesses are very different. Pam’s sons are 16 and 19. The older one is in college. They race BMX bikes (not motorbikes as I thought yesterday). Her 16-year-old just got his license. Her younger son, like Eli, was born with a bowel obstruction. Its proper name is meconium ileus. It’s not an indication of how severe his illness will be.

Unlike Eli, her youngest son’s meconium ileus was flushed out without surgery. As a result of having IV nutrition and perhaps lots of tubes down his throat for a prolonged period, though, he refused to eat, so he got a very rocky start with nutrition.

While Eli did need the surgery, he took to the bottle really fast and as of today is off IV nutrition.

How her sons illnesses are different, I did not ask. I’m just not at the point that I can digest a lot of medical details or want to know anything other than what my son presents to us on any given day.

Pam was very candid with me but told me not to be afraid.

“You’re going to have a different kind of life,” she said.

“And you’re going to learn real fast how to be a bitch.”

I am learning. And what she means by being a bitch is being a good advocate for your child. Sometimes, it just feels bitchy. Like when I argued with a few different nurses about the way my son’s poo bag was attached to his skin. It was leaking onto his as yet unhealed umbilical chord. Some nurses did it right, others rushed it and the bag would leak. I finally figured out I should stop complaining to the nurse if I felt her work sucked and go straight to the boss, the charge nurse. Suddenly, everyone was very concerned about my concern of the leaking poo bag. There was a special order for a wound care expert. Certain nurses are better at working the bags, and they would be the ones to deal with Eli’s problem. My constant presence at the hospital didn’t hurt. I still think I’m too apologetic about my concerns. Working on getting the “I’m sorrys” out of my vocabulary. Because actually, I’m not, so there’s no use being a phony and pretending I have any sense of remorse for hounding people about the finer details of my kid’s care.

Pam also told me she spends a lot of time fighting with insurance companies. The disease, she said, “Is an expensive pain in the ass.”

This concerns me a lot, I can’t lie.

However, it will become normal to us. The insurance appeals. The daily chest taps that clear up the mucus for lung problems (which my son doesn’t have yet but will probably have later) will be a matter of routine. When Eli’s older, he’ll get a vest to wear twice a day.

Eli. 12.23

There will be a lot to remember, but I’m the boy’s mother, so I will find a way, she assured me.

Another main concern of mine is that Eli would feel different, that his life sucked or that he was growing up in an infirmary.

“He’s not going to feel like he got a raw deal if you don’t act like he got a raw deal,” Pam said.

Her sons do at times get annoyed with their treatments.

“Life’s not fair,” she reminds them. “It could be worse so be happy with what you’ve got.”

She said her family has treated her boys normally. The routines for care are normal to them. Dad’s a pilot so the family has gotten to travel a lot together. They just haul some medical supplies along.

Pam’s kids were in the background of the phone conversation. She was wrapping Christmas presents. They were making plans for dinner with friends.

She wants to meet me for lunch so I can meet her kids. I will do that soon.

“I want you to call me any time of the day or night,” she said. “I’m up all hours, I’m a stay-at-home mom and my husband travels a lot. I didn’t have anyone like me to talk to and I think it would have helped. I can be your shoulder to cry on.”

The crappy thing about the cystic fibrosis community is that the doctors don’t want CF children hanging around together, because they can catch each others’ lung infections.

That doesn’t mean I can’t make friends.

I already found one in Pam.


9 thoughts on “A different kind of life

  1. Ruth says:

    Thank goodness for Pam – a great sounding board, it seems. I think you got an early Christmas angel. I know Kathy has had to stay at the hospital around the clock with Kelly – and Dave too. If a person can’t speak for themselves, someone has to. Seems like there should be a profession like that. Thinking of you and so glad Eli is doing better with his food.


  2. Kathy Hatfield says:

    It’s funny how quickly you learn things in the hospital. At some point, you’ll feel like you could be a nurse. I second what Ruth said…Thank Goodness for Pam! Thinking of you all. Hugs.


  3. So glad you found Pam! She seems like a great resource. My babysitter Molly was here today and she said her mom (also mom of two kids with CF) would love to talk it you want to email her. Sounds like you’re good for now, but the offer stands whenever.


    1. j&m says:

      Thx. I’d love to talk to her at some point!


  4. Ann Dwyer says:

    Eli is lucky to live in a time when there are more medical options for children with CF. When I had surgery at 8 years-old, I was on the same floor as the CF kids. It taught me that my arthritis was not the worst thing in the world.

    I remember their coughs. And the sounds of nurses pounding on their backs. Back then, CF was a death sentence. Thankfully, things have improved significantly (obviously if Pam’s kids are riding bikes :)). Good luck. As someone who has been in and out of dr.’s offices and heard her mom fight nearly every day with the insurance companies, you’ll have your work cut out for you. But it’ll be worth it. He’s a cutie.


  5. angelica says:

    Good. Friends make the world of a difference.


  6. scaz2010 says:

    Hi Mom of Eli. . . I was just browsing websites for other CFer’s and I fell on your beautiful baby’s face! Have no fear, Pam is right. I am a CFer and I am 29. My parents had NO clue what to do when I was born. I also had a blockage at birth. My first years were tough also. My parents gave me the best gift, love. They loved me no matter what. At times I have felt different, but in a fantastic way. You should check out Its a great resource for CF information, and a full community of us. Best of luck to you! Chat anytime!


    1. j&m says:

      Thank you, that is so lovely and comforting to hear. We are so new at this. I’m glad you’re doing well!


      1. scaz2010 says:

        Its tough, but hang in there! Have a Happy New Year!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: