More on Vision

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Now that we know Mikaere’s eyesight is worse than we originally thought (See the post titled ‘To my son I’m a giant blob‘) we can introduce things to help.

Now that it’s dark in the afternoons, I set up light shows for him. We were gifted this amazing black carpet/fibre optic amazing whatsit that has little lights on a black carpet that change colour (<3 Alexander x). We also have a set of fibre optic cables that came from a charity. Sometimes he’s interested, sometimes he’s not. We were told by his vision therapist that if he looks at a anything, that’s a win.

We’re also trying to introduce single bright toys against dark backgrounds in the hope that it helps. Portage bought around this great moving wooden duck that waddles very very slowly down a slope. I’d hoped he track it, and he kind of did the first time. We showed him a large light tube at vision, where the light moves down the tube, super slow. Again, tracked it, kind of, the first time.

Now he won’t. Is it because he can’t see it? Is it because he’s not interested? We wrangled a dark backdrop up to work as contrast to be be honest, I don’t know what’s working and what’s not.

I struggle with this, because I know vision, focusing and following is the basis of most physical developmental movement. So many movements start with looking, with motivation. And if he can’t see and he can’t hold and doesn’t have the motivation to see, which then moves into a lack of reaching or touching, what does that mean for him?

We’ve already seen that his little left roll is not a neurotypical roll, because he’s not starting it with his arms outstretched, as he reaches for something. He tucks his arms in, to keep them out of his way and leads with his knees instead. A bottom up rotation, instead of a top down.

So, working on vision. At least the lights are pretty.

On AFO’s. 

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Sometime last year, our physio mentioned AFO’s – Ankle Foot Orthosis. We were using trainers + leg gaiters to help with free standing (I say ‘free’ standing, but what that really means is that we hold Mikaere up, rather than him standing in a stander).

The trainers were to stop his feet over pronating (meaning: the arches of his foot rolled inward), and the gaiters to help maintain knee extension (meaning: he can’t lock out his legs, and use his knee to keep his leg straight).

But, she thought that AFO’s – like a hard sandal that has a back that goes up to the calf – might help his standing without the need to fix his knees.  Mikaere is also showing dystonic posturing of his feet into an equinovarus position (pointing down and inwards), and the idea was that AFO’s would offer him more time with his feet supported in a more neutral position.

We’re lucky that we’re part of a tertiary hospital that isn’t currently suffering from funding issues thanks to private funding, which meant that with a referral letter from our clinician and a letter from our physio, we got the thumbs up for AFO’s. To be clear: our local community hospital wasn’t going to fund them. So we’re grateful!

They’re custom made for Mikaere – his feet were covered in plaster and the AFO’s made from the mould. We use them most days during physio-like activities, and sure enough, they help keep his feet in more neutral positions and definitely make standing easier!

They’re another set of supports in our kit. At this point – it’s heart breaking knowing my baby is almost two years over the point where most kids learn to stand. It’s unlikely he’ll ever it do it by himself, without support.

I also know that if he doesn’t stand, if he doesn’t bear weight through his legs, his hip sockets won’t form and he’ll be at risk of hip sublaxation (where his hip is partly dislocated) and/or hip dysplasia (where his hip socket isn’t formed correctly, which doesn’t hold his hip joint in place).

I know that both those options can be painful, and awful. I’d like to avoid that. So, standing. As much standing as we can do. To be honest, it’s not a lot. Finding time in our days to fit standing in isn’t easy. But every minute counts. So some days it’s kneeling against me across the back of the couch, and some days its in the stander, and some days in ten minutes in the AFO’s.

We do what we can, hey? We’ve picked a fun blue camo, in the hope that it will make them more ‘fun’ to use. Sigh. Onwards we go.

On the Walker Saga

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The thing with having a child that can’t be upright by himself means that every time Mikaere is upright, his legs are strapped down. Every time. He’s entire lower half is static. Can you even imagine?  That to upright independently, you have to have your entire body from the chest to your toes strapped down.

This means Mikaere has never been in an upright position and realised he has ankles. He’s never had the opportunity to understand what his ankles are, when he’s upright. To realise what his legs are for.  Or realised that if he locks his knees he could stand.

There was also a theory, once, that if Mikaere learnt he could move his legs, realised he had mobility and ankles and knees, he might begin to weight bear. Maybe (this is very long long shot).

So I looked around at equipment that might be supportive for his trunk (because obviously he’s going to need support) and have his legs free, and I came across gait trainers, or walkers. They’re exactly like what they sound – exactly like those little walkers you plop babies in so they can move their feet and go – except instead of fisher price it’s a full on piece of therapy equipment.

I convinced our NHS physio that it was a good idea to try, and she said no harm. So we tried a walker. We organised a rep to come out and fit it and put him in it.  You guys. Nothing in the sky aligned for us.

Mikaere refused to nap and he’d a load of seizures so already we were on the back foot. Coaxing Mikaere into the walker, sans nap, into a completely new experience was both fine and heartbreaking.

There were moments were he was happy. Holding his head up, curious about what was happening to his legs, the freedom and movement, but when he realised he couldn’t get out of it, he screamed. Big tears, very unhappy, completely helpless, frustrated that what he wanted (out) he couldn’t do himself. Proper, loud, distraught screaming. Back arching, over extension. Rage. Screaming.

I hate it when he screams. I hate it when we’re trying something and we go too fast, or it’s too much and I can’t anticipate it and he just, it’s too much. Screaming. It hits me right in the heart that something I pushed for has caused my baby to scream like that.

I pretty much tore through the straps to get him out out as quick as we could, and comforted.  We cuddled and sang songs and coaxed him back in. Fine for a few minutes, not fine after that.

Essentially I called it after the third attempt. My aim was to see if we could put him in a supportive position to teach him how to weight bear through his legs himself. Or even, teach him that his legs are helpful for weight bearing, for standing. To see if he had any inclination in propelling himself forward with his legs. To teach him he has ankles.

Turns out he wasn’t keen. We had a talk about how neurotypical babies learn, but things like a baby doorway bouncer or a baby activity ring, they don’t have enough core support for him. Our NHS physio basically said they wouldn’t fund it. He didn’t show enough forward momentum for him to show that it would be beneficial. Womp.

We talked about standing slings, to see if I could suspend him from a doorway (like a doorway bouncer without the bounce) but the hoist company wouldn’t sell the sling to a family without a hoist. Our plan was to suspend it from a pull up bar in the doorway, knowing full well that if it could hold Sam’s weight it could hold Mikaere’s. But no go. (I did, later, try suspend the upsee vest from the pull upbar, but it makes him lopsided, head forward legs back. Not what I was looking for!)

And so I mulled on it. And thought about it.  And then I mentioned to our private physio what I was thinking.  See, the difference between our private physio + our NHS physio is that she has the time, and space and freedom to try different things. She isn’t bound by KPI’s, or the weird NHS culture that our other (lovely, completely competent and wonderful) physio is.  She’s also knows Mikaere well enough to know what he’s like on a bad day, and how different he is on a good day.

So, we tried again, privately. I’d look at private funding, but first we’d get the rep out and see him again in a walker.

It was 100% a different experience. We went slow. Spending a good few minutes looking at the walker, touching the walker, going in and out of the walker. Feeling his feet, on the carpet, on the tiled floor. Feeling his weight move from the front of his foot, to his heel. Literally holding up his head in our hands, his hands exploring the conveniently placed ring for holding onto.

What a different experience. He didn’t love it, he tolerated it. But – BUT! He was using his ankles, weight was going through his feet. There was definite learning there, figure out how and when and what! If the goal is for him to be more aware of his body, to learn he has ankles and to strengthen those muscles and maybe, one day (extreme stretch goal), weight bear independently, then this session showed he could.

So we pushed go. I got funding, and we said yes please to the rep company, Jiraffe. We would like a small pacer please. In speedy purple. Could we please have a quote? It took a while for the funding come through, but it did (thank you, Elifar!) and when it had, unfortunately Jiraffe had upgraded to a new walker that wasn’t quite as appropriate for Mikaere. They only had the demo walker left.

We’re not precious, so we asked if we could purchase the demo version. There was radio silence on Jiraffe’s end, and when they came back, blow me over with a feather. Because Mikaere’s condition is terminal, they would like to GIFT the demo pacer to Mikaere! Oh my days! We were so grateful, so so so grateful and accepted.

And now Mikaere has a gait walker. It’s beautiful. He’s tolerating it for longer and longer periods (it helps that his vision has improved and he now watches TV. The walker puts him at the right height). He doesn’t throw his head back anymore, and has learnt to hold his head forward (which means we don’t need to hold his head!). He’s beginning to understand the concept of taking steps (with a lot of support, not independently!) but mostly, he’s feeling his legs and his ankles upright, free of straps. He moves his legs, moves his ankles, and that’s everything. He also smiles when he’s in it, which is everything.

So, onwards we go. Upright, with feet free. With Disco parties in the hallway. We’re doing it!

 

On making the boot work

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Fuck. I was putting Mikaere into his car seat when I felt his gastrostomy button pop out of his stoma. I heard his stomach contents dribble out and – fuck – was my first thought.

It was raining. It was just me and Kai and we were in the back streets of an unfamiliar suburb. I did a quick search, and sure enough, the nearest changing places facility (basically, a public toilet with a changing bench bigger than a baby changing table) is just over 15 miles away. Blah.

Mikaere’s button pops out all the time, and usually it’s no big deal. But we’re 40 minutes from home and I know he can’t have the button out for that long without it beginning to close. (Considering it was surgery to put it in, closing is not an option).

So, I do what I always do when I’m in a tight spot, which is move him to the boot of the car and take care of it. So I do, changing him, deflating the button and putting it back in with the gear we carry around with us in the emergency bag.

But I think how undignified for him. How cold and uncomfortable and just – not ideal for all of this to take place in the boot of my car, with the door pulled low to keep out the rain.

But the thing is, there aren’t enough safe places around where I could change him. Places with a long enough changing table to make it safe. Baby changing tables are everywhere, but they’re too short for him.

As I change him out of his vomity clothes, I think how awful that the quick, easy solution is here. Where anyone can walk by, where the breeze is cold.

I hate this. I hate that this is our life. The special needs life is just awful. I’m glad it was quick, but I wish we had the facilities nearby to manage without resorting to the boot of the car.

Also, as he gets bigger, the boot of the car isn’t going to cut it. What are we going to do then?!

On goodbye formula!

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One of the things that happened in the past year was we got Mikaere off formula and onto the blended diet. It wasn’t an easy decision and there were a few heated discussions with our dietician, but the long and short of it is that nutritionally complete formula had ingredients high in glycine in it. I’m not feeding my kid the very thing he can’t process. There is one formula that is glycine free, but it has other side effects that make it not worth trying.

And so, off we went, easing ourselves into the blended diet. I kept extensive spreadsheets for working out calorie intake and micronutrients. I was bit overwhelmed but I started small. One meal a day, at first. Meat, vege, a carb/grain along with some fats (lots of fats, avocado, coconut oil, peanut butter). After a while I added in prunes (as a natural laxative, so we could stop using the horrid movicol) and then I started throwing in some Brazil nuts, as selenium helps is an immune booster.

We moved to two meals a day. He was vomiting less, and seemed more aware. He was tolerating it like a champ!

After a few months I added a breakfast – weetabix, with fruit and honey, with coconut milk. The fruit changes morning to morning, depending on what’s in the fridge. When that became part of the routine it was just the night feed. Porridge, mostly. More fruit, more honey, more peanut butter.

Then I got a bit brazen, and sometimes I’ll change it up and Mikaere will eat what we eat, but blended.

Sometimes if I felt like he could use the extra calories I’ll add in a put of coconut/chocolate pudding (a whopping 100kcal per 45g!) to his feed (it goes through the tube which is why it’s okay to mix meat with chocolate like some kind of magic chilli mix. He never has to taste it). Or if we’re out, an nice dollop of olive oil.

The great thing about this is he started eating oral tasters. We’d still put the blend on through the tube, but he’ll have a savoury/sweet course. Blended, to a nice easily manageable purée. Bangers and mash. Chicken and lentil dhal. Caribbean jerk chicken.

Dessert is usually chocolate pudding or a fruit/yoghurt purée (guess which one he prefers?!)

Overall he’s put on weight, and is managing MUCH better on the blended diet than he could on formula.

So, blended diet wins for us. I don’t fully understand why the blended diet isn’t more wildly supportive, or why we had to fight with our dietician. (I think it’s because nutricia, who provide the button refuse to state their equipment is safe with the blended diet, but it’s because they also provide all the milk formulas, so encouraging business away from their products would be bad for business. If a manufacturer can’t recommend a particular practice, then I guess the NHS can’t? Even though it’s most cost effective for the NHS, often better for the children and with less processing and packaging, better for the environment?)

The other stupid thing is that if it didn’t work with the mickey button (the button between the tube and Mikaere’s stomach that works a bit like a tiny pipe into his belly) and it got blocked, all that would happen is that I’d deflate the balloon, pull the button out, clear the blockage and put it back in again.

Anyway, I fought the fight and I realised that essentially as long as I’m not causing any harm it’s really up to me to decide what’s best (that comes with the caveat that I do my due diligence, discuss with our medical team and research the crap out of whatever it is I’m thinking of doing – I can decide whats best based on an informed opinion. I’m not a maverick, hey). And after all my research on the blended diet and formula, its perhaps no surprise we’ve switched to the blended diet. 
This by far is one of the best decisions we ever made for our boy. Hurrah Blended Diets!

On Seizure Monitors

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Gadgets. We have them coming out our ears. One problem we have is knowing when Mikaere is having a seizure when he’s sleeping. His seizures are silent and horrid and we need to know when he’s having one so we can give relief medication if he needs. At the minute we have night nurses a few nights a week, which is helpful. They stay awake and watch Mikaere. When we don’t have night nurses, Sam and I sleep in shifts. But the problem is in the wee hours. Sam’s shift usually goes until around 2am, and typically I’m up for the day around 5, 5:30am. In those inbetween hours, it’s usually whoever is around, or whoever is the most awake.

Except, you guys, we’re SO sleep deprived. We’re special needs parents, so of course we are. But when you’re sleep deprived, we run the risk of missing something in those inbetween hours. It scares me no end. So, gadgets. We have all the gadgets.

We have an angel care mat, and while that’s a relief, it only alarms when Kai stops moving for more than twenty seconds (which is to say if he stopped breathing and was completely still for twenty seconds). But with seizures he jerks.

We tried wearables next. Specifically the neebo, as his feet are now too big for the owlet. Except the neebo wasn’t accurate enough for us. Additionally the strap left red marks on his arm.

Then we tried the RayBaby, a gift from a friend. Ray baby is a baby monitor that tracks breathing. As Kai breath holds and then hyperventilates when he’s having a seizure, we’d hoped that RayBaby could help. Except that RayBaby couldn’t distinguish between an empty crib and one with a baby in it. It’s still very very beta. Womp womp womp.

Our saving grace is the pulse oximeter my Mum got Mikaere. It’s an old Massimo Rav 5 that a client gifted as they were upgrading their kit. It has a probe that goes on Mikaere’s toe and measures his heart rate and o2 saturation levels. When he has a seizure his heart rate sky rockets and his o2 drops – we have alarms set to go off when they hit certain thresholds.

He wears it every evening when sleeping, which means we don’t need to be as hyper-vigilant as we used to, game changing when everyone is exhausted.

The only downside is he can’t wear it all day. It’s too big, and the minute he’s awake he’ll kick and wriggle and the probe comes off. Still, it’s good when he’s sleeping, which is when he’s most likely to have a seizure.

We’re also on the waiting list for a seizure movement monitor from Muir Maxwell, and Epilepsy Trust in the UK, but I’m not convinced it’ll be any better than the pulse-ox to be honest. I don’t know you guys. Seizures are awful. They’re really really awful and I’m terrified I’ll miss one and that will be it. SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy – it’s when a person with epilepsy dies without warning and where there is no other obvious cause of death) has me incredibly fearful of falling asleep and missing something. I guess it’s a special needs parents thing, where you go to sleep but you’re not 100% sure your baby will still be alive when you wake up. The Fear, I have it.

Epilepsy parents, what do you use to monitor your child?

On the Upsee

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Have you heard of an upsee? It’s a harness that allows kids with special needs to walk. You strap a harness to yourself and attach your beautiful special needs baby to the harness, and together you walk.

You guys – kids who have never had the chance to walk are WALKING!

You can bet we got one for Mikaere (thanks to a grant from the amazing Eilfar Foundation) and we were pretty keen to try it out.

Well, it turns out my legs are too short, or Mikaere is too tall so it doesn’t work well when it’s the two us, but with Sam or Andy (Mikaere’s grandad) it’s magic.  For a small while, our boy walked. He rocked on his toes and did the hockey pokey and he was upright and WALKING.

I can’t being to explain how huge this was for us, my emotions just went all over the place and I wanted to cry. He NEVER gets the opportunity to do this, to walk around the kitchen, walk about the garden with his grandad. He’s always strapped in, and wheeled around. Never ever has he been in the position where he can walk, even if it is assisted.

I didn’t know this, but my boy is tall, so tall. And he’s got the skinniest little legs and the sweetest knobbly knees! The best bit is when you’re wearing him, you can feel him *want* to walk. You can feel him lift his feet in anticipation and move himself forward. It’s beautiful. So so beautiful.

I’m aware that this amazing bit of technology only works for us because Mikaere’s head holding has improved dramatically. If he can hold his head up, that opens up all sorts of interesting opportunities for him.

It’s amazing hey? We’re pretty pleased.

The Just In Case Kit

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We have a lot of kit for Mikaere.  Things that he might need. Our paedatrician once called our flat a mini hospital ward. When you walk into the spare room there are oxygen tanks. And there are nasal cannulas and a suction machine with a kajillion catheters. There is the stat monitor we cart around in the buggy, just in case. We have pumps and giving sets for the days that Kai’s too poorly to manage bolus feeds. We have a tool box under our bed. It’s filled with emergency just in case meds and IV equipment.

There are three giant plastic boxes in our living room. One is filled with just in case meds. Powdered antibiotics. Seizure meds. Movicol for constipated days and gaviscon for refluxy days. There is one for all the extra stuff. There is numbing cream just in case we need to do bloods, sterile kits, aprons and creams and spare ngs and all the rest of it. The third is a giant box full of enteral syringes, just in case we run out.

We have at least three boxes of medical latex gloves, just in case you’re doing something that requires gloves. 

When we first got all the kit, the just in case everything was overwhelming. So much stuff. Now? Now this is our new normal. I can pack up the buggy in 10 minutes (thanks to being extra organised and having a kit ready to go), printing off an updated cheatsheet for the new whoever from whatever appointment, and gathered all the extra whatever we need for the day from our stash.

It works well enough. Mostly. However, it doesn’t work so well when I’m somewhere that requires me to park the buggy. It means I can’t leave controlled substances (aka seizure medication) in the buggy, and I can’t leave a tank of o2 just hanging about. Or quite expensive stat monitors. All of those things no.

An outing without the buggy to carry our gear requires some planning. An overnight stay requires spreadsheet-level organisation, and when we arrive at our destination, we descend with our equipment and take over the space.

Still, I find it comforting to have all the things, just in case. Sometimes it can mean the difference between being in hospital and not being in hospital, being able to manage at home or while we’re out and about. Worth it, hey? If I’m able to keep my boy out of the A&E, it’s worth it a million times over.

 

The reason I write this post is because I overheard a new father exclaim over the amount of gear they had for their (neurotypical) newborn. A wanted to share our perspective with him, but couldn’t, because I’m a stranger and was eavesdropping. It’s always about perspective, hey? Because from my perspective, all his stuff can fit in one bag. Food, entertainment, nappies + a change of clothes. I could fit that in my *handbag* and be positively delighted. We don’t live that life. So hey ho. Onwards we go with all our piles and piles of just in case stuff.

On QRI Laser Therapy for Reflex Integration

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One of the things we fundraised for was for Low Level Laser Therapy (LLLT) When I first heard about QRI from a few NKH Mums – I raised my eyebrows and thought ‘hogwash’.  Three months later I was on a train to Birmingham without my guys to learn how to do it. It is a bit… alternative. Very woo-woo. The website is very 90s and the copy on the website is very… holistic and intuitive. For someone who prefers decisive facts and firm science, it was a big leap to get to the point where I was okay to try it on my child.

Now before I get to the point where I’ve joined all the dots – here’s the thing: if there is no harm and there is possible benefits, I’m keen to try it. If it will help Mikaere and it definitely won’t hurt Mikaere, then the risk for trying is low. So we try it. That’s where I started – the possible benefit for Mikaere and his health was 100% greater than the possible risk (because other than time and cost, there is no risk. It’s just light).

So I went on faith. And lots of anecdotal kool aid success stories from other special needs parents.

I got on a train, paid several hundred US dollars and went to learn about a protocol that suggested that with lasers, I might be able to help my son hold up his head.

Here’s how it works. There are a few premises, so let’s start with those.

  1. The first premise is that cells in our body can take up energy from light. It’s called photobiomodulation. Essentially, there’s a step in the process that makes ATP that has a copper middle. Copper can absorb light in certain wavelengths to give it an ‘energy boost’.The Science, as I understand it: Each cell in our body has a little power factory, called mitochondria. It creates ATP, which is what powers every function in every cell in our body. Cytochrome C Oxidase (CCO) is a step in the mitochondrial electron transport chain – the part that helps make ATP.  It transfers one electron (from each of the four cytochrome c molecules), to a single oxygen molecule, producing two molecules of water. At the same time, four protons are moved across the mitochondrial membrane, producing a proton gradient that the ATP synthase enzyme needs to synthesize ATP. CCO has two heme centres and two copper centres. Each of these metal centres can exist in an oxidized or a reduced state, and these have different absorption spectra, meaning CCO can absorb light well into the NIR region (up to 950 nm). Which is to say wavelengths in the red (600–700 nm) and near-infrared (NIR, 770–1200 nm) spectral regions, can be absorbed by the CCO centres, which causes an increase in mitochondrial membrane potential (MMP) above normal baseline levels (increasing the amount of ATP made) and leads to a brief and rather modest increase in generation of reactive oxygen species (ROS) – which is a number of reactive molecules and free radicals derived from molecular oxygen. It’s used in a cell signalling and cell cycling.In a nutshell – given the right wavelengths of light, the mitochondria of a cell can absorb the photons from the laser, which stimulates the cell – increasing the ATP made and improving the signals between cells (amongst other things).
  2. The second premise is about reflexes.  We all have reflexes and they can be retained, preventing development. We all have a number of reflexes designed to help our bodies move through developmental phases. Reflex’s are held in what is called the Reflex Arc – it’s a neural pathway that controls a reflex. Most sensory neurones do not pass directly through the brain, but instead through the spinal cord. This allows for faster reflex actions to occur by activating spinal motor neurones without the delay of routing signals through the brain. When babies grow, the reflex triggers a certain number of movements automatically. These movements pave a set of neural pathways that, eventually, will allow the reflex to be integrated. Once a reflex is integrated, it’s no longer needed and the body will no longer use the reflex.Here’s the important bit: if there is an issue in the brain, or in the central nervous system (like, say because you have Nonketotic Hyperglycinemia) – these reflexes may not be integrated correctly or at all. They might be retained. If a reflex is retained, the child will not easily be able to progress. If they do progress, they’ll need to compensate for the retained reflex.
  3. The third premise is for reflexes that aren’t integrated can be integrated. Or rather, helped along. If reflexes are typically integrated with repeated movement, repeated, rhythmic movement (or, say, cell stimulation in particular points) may be able to help integrated reflexes by forming neuropathways. Even in brains with neural damage, on the idea that our brains have a certain amount of neuroplasticity, and if possible, they will find a way. This is where things get a bit more… flexible. But, I’m willing to give it a go. Especially because there are so many different success stories from other parents.

And so I went to a workshop held in Birmingham, and I had my first experience of laser therapy.

Woah. Buddy.

I sat through the entire half of the first morning and was so annoyed at myself. I was definitely wasting my time and I’d wasted so much money and I was very very very glad I had not spent thousands of pounds on a laser. The content was way to woo-woo. So far removed from science, and so far removed from what I knew and expected. I half listened, and tried to figure out if I could get a refund on my hotel and a train ticket back to London.

Then the ‘interactive’ part of the session happened. Where you test the reflexes of your partner, do the protocol, and then retest. I was positive I’d feel nothing (it’s just LED lights, I told myself) and that nothing would change.

Here’s the thing. I lay down, and almost instantly the lasers made my body relax even when my brain was still going a million miles an hour. What the heck. I’d never been in a situation where my body was calm and relaxed and my mind was not (it felt very very odd). You could feel your body responding to the lasers, so I kind of relaxed into it. Something was definitely happening, and there must be science behind it. I was sure. I was even more surprised when my reflexes had changed rather dramatically in the test afterwards – profoundly different from the before test.

It’s possible that it was psychoshamtic, but it’s also possible the laser was effective. Hard to know. So I stayed on, and that first night I went on an epic research deep dive. Here’s a small snippet of what I found.

  • LED study on that showed significant improvements in executive function and verbal memory of Chronic/Traumatic brain injury patients after LED/near infra-red light therapy. (Source)
  • LLLT decreased the muscle spasticity of children with spastic Cerebral Palsy (Source)
  • LLLT/photobiomodulation – cells exposed to low-levels of red and near-IR light from lasers or LEDs either stimulate or (less likely) inhibit cellular function, leading to reduction of cell and tissue death, improved wound healing, increasing repair of damage to soft tissue, nerves, bone, and cartilage, and relief for both acute and chronic pain and inflammation. (Source –  okay, so not a study, but I got half way through the references before I decided it was probably the most succinct version about LLLT)
  • Applying near-infrared light to the head of animals that have suffered traumatic brain injuries produces improvement in neurological functioning, reduces neuroinflammation, and stimulates the formation of new neurones (Source)
  • The rats subjected to 500 mW of laser irradiation had a significant decrease in glutamate, aspartate, and taurine in the cortex, and a significant decrease in hippocampal GABA (Source -this one’s helpful, because if there is a decrease in glutamate, the NMDA receptors which glycine binds to are less likely to fire)

They’re mostly the abstracts, because I don’t think I’m allowed to share openly the full studies, but there you go.

We got a laser and we’ve been working it into Mikaere’s routine. Sometimes we manage it, sometimes we don’t. We think we’ve seen some gains, but because we’re doing so much with Mikaere it’s hard to attribute it directly to the laser. We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.

 

On falling out of the red chair

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Mikaere has a red tumble form that we use a million times a day. It’s portable, he fits in it and it’s convenient for eating (as he needs to up upright while on feeds). He can wriggle and kick and bat things in it, he’s not strapped down, he’s not confined.

Except maybe he SHOULD be. Kai has learnt how to fall out of his chair. It’s a very slow motion kind if thing, it takes several minutes for him to topple over the side, moving his arms and shifting his weight until his top half is heavier than his bottom half holding him in the seat.

Sure enough, he’ll go over the side (we’ve only let him do it a handful of times, usually you can see it coming a mile off and reposition). The first time he screamed. The second time he was a bit bewildered. And third was definitely intentional and had a big grin.

It’s hilarious. And I’m glad he’s making choices for himself about where he wants to be.

Update: We’ve had to strap him in now, as it’s getting a bit dangerous. The chair is no longer a safe space to be unstrapped!