Mother Daughter Act

Like it or not, Heidi and I are in this together ("Thanks, Mom" post).  It's very different for me at 63, retired, grown children with families of their own, driving is still an option.  Ataxic, but considerably less affected than me, she's a young woman with young children, and spends a good part of her time in the car (soccer games, piano lessons, martial arts).  My household has two adults, hers has two adults and two children in a very active phase of life.  I have all the time in the world to nap, read, or compute.  She is chronically sleep-deprived and committed 24–7.  I have lunch with friends, she hosts play dates.  I worry about falling in the shower while she worries about getting time for a shower.  Different generations, different concerns, different needs.

So what started the Mother-Daughter show?  My physician invited me each year to demonstrate how SCA manifests on a neurological exam to her medical school class.  Sure, I thought–talking with a small group of students, demonstrating via exam.  My neurological signs and symptoms are fairly classic for someone with genetic Ataxia.  Why not?  It's not as if my dance card was full.

When I first walked in and saw the class in an amphitheater, I thought, "Oh my God!"  Speaking in front of a large group isn't a favorite activity.  What if I fall, feel overwhelmed and start crying, have something stuck in my teeth?  Knowing it was a medical school class and neither my neurologist nor the students were clueless, didn't reassure me a bit.  But, talking about Ataxia had become a habit and being such a smartass, I was a fair second banana to my neurologist's questions. Not great, but OK.

Two years later, the mother/daughter act was born.  Access to both momma and baby bear presented a good picture of moderate and mild genetically acquired Ataxia.  So Heidi, invited, agreed to participate in the class.  Having her there also provided some assurance that she wouldn't let me open my mouth if I had something stuck in my teeth.  But, her important contribution was the effects of Ataxia in the young adult.

There are a fair amount of claims out there for the movement disorders, so it pays to be somewhat skeptical. We don't anticipate around-the-corner cures, try herbal remedies or stem cell therapies (at this point in time). A year ago, I became intrigued by a balance vest developed by a physical therapist, but wanted to combine my BS meter with some hopeful optimism.  My neurologist?  She hadn't heard anything, but would inquire at professional meetings.  Earl?  He hadn't heard anything, but would investigate.  Heidi?  She hadn't heard anything, but noticed that she ambulated better when carrying something.

Being more adventurous than me and having low expectations (some improvement will do), Heidi decided to assume the risk and pursue the benefits of "weighting" more aggressively. It involves a flight to the Bay area (no one located in the Northwest), two days of tests and a financial investment.  You would think a good mother would be willing to be her daughter's petri dish–but nope, she's mine.

The lesson:  Need a ride to the airport, dear?

Update:  Heidi did go to Oakland and returned home Halloween night.  She was tested, weighted, tested, re-weighted during her two days there and did experience some improvement, both objectively and subjectively.  Since some improvement was her modest goal, she came home with the vest.  While not a fashion statement, it's not bad.  What's likely to occur over time?  Who knows, but better is better.