I’m truly grateful. My sweet daughter is so very fortunate to celebrate her 8th birthday. Two and a half years ago, we were faced with her diagnosis of GM-1 Gangliosidosis, a rare degenerative neurological disease. There is no treatment or cure. Her life will be cut short without incredible medical advances. Yet, here we are. Another birthday. Another entire year. We are so very grateful for every moment. We adore her smile, her hugs, and her love.
Not a single doctor can tell us with any confidence how many birthdays she will celebrate. One specialist guessed a life expectancy into her teens or perhaps even into her twenties. We can only hope that is the case, but is it quality or quantity that matters most? We are living in the face of a chronic and life-limiting condition without a proven treatment and without answers.
Ironically, even those who do not face such a devastating diagnosis, do not truly know their own futures. It’s simply much, much more likely that our daughter’s life will be cut short by decades more than the average lifespan. It’s also very likely that her life will involve challenges that the majority of the population typically do not face.
Still, we are hopeful. We have been told that a clinical trial may arrive as early as next year. We fought tooth and nail to obtain the only medication which is thought to be possibly beneficial. Through a study, we embarked on the Modified Atkins diet in an effort to possibly enhance the efficacy of this particular medication.
This special diet deprives our daughter of nearly all sugar. On her birthday, there will be no cupcakes, frosting, or sweets. If we do make a “cake,” it will be prepared without the normal ingredients: flour and sugar.
And miraculously, despite the nightmarish diagnosis, she’s eight.
She’s living life. There are many nagging questions. Is the medication working? Will our insurance approve the unreasonably expensive medication again? Is the diet helping? Will the clinical trial happen on time? Will she be in the clinical trial? Do we actually want to be in the first clinical trial? When will she stop walking? When will she stop speaking? How many birthdays will she have?
We simply do not know.
We do know that many children with this condition have a much more severe form of the disease. These children’s lives are measured in months and days, rather than years. Tragically, several children who were diagnosed around the same time as our daughter are no longer with us on this earth.
Given the situation, what does one do? How do we celebrate given that this is a degenerative condition and the clock is always ticking?
We celebrate fiercely because this diagnosis has taught us so much. Birthdays are truly an event to celebrate, despite time also being our enemy.
Today, in honor of our sweet girl and all the children who suffer from this horrible condition, find something to celebrate. It may be something small. Savor the first, middle, and last sip of your morning coffee. Take a deep breath of fresh air as you open your door. Commit an act of kindness.
Live and love fiercely, because one never knows how many birthdays remain.
The author of this post Christine Waggoner founded the Cure GM1 Foundation in April 2015 in honor of her daughter Iris and all the children who suffer from GM1 Gangliosidosis.
To make a donation to support GM1 medical research, please see: www.curegm1.org and www.sweetiris.org for more information.
To follow Iris’ story on Facebook, click here.
2 thoughts on “Birthdays are Bittersweet”
Qué lindas tus palabras Cristina, y que tristeza y amor surgen de cada una de ellas. Que maravilla que hoy tu niña tenga duez años y siga bien. Realmente es yna alegría. Dios quiera que todo siga así. Mi nietita Cande tiene gm1 tipo1 la más grave. No quiero pensar en el tiempo. Solo quiero que pronto aparezca una cura. Y pido a Dios que aparezca pronto. Para ella y todos los niños con ésta y otras enfermedades. Dios nos pone pruebas, pruebas que debemos ir pasando, yo sólo le digo a Dios que esta prueba es muy dura para mi. Si hay alguna lección que deba aprender, necesito sea de otra manera. Seré egoísta o no se que, pero no quiero que ésta película de terror continúe. Quiero un final feliz para Cande y todos nuestros niños.
Lamento mucho lo de tu hija. Tu madre compartió una foto con nosotros y ella es hermosa. Hemos luchado mucho para los niños GM1 y sabemos que estamos haciendo una diferencia, pero lamentablemente, el progreso ha sido más lento de lo que nos gustaría.