SproutData is a complete personal real-time seizure tracking, organization and communication tool. Access the SproutData website from your phone, computer and tablet to help you manage seizures, events, medications, conditions, doctors and more. Add family members and caregivers to help you better communicate the health of a person.
Your custom dashboard allows a quick view of your data in real time.
With a few clicks, a user can log each event or seizure. A time/date will autofill, or you can go back and easily adjust the event at your convenience.
Your data is visually represented to help you find possible patterns. Easily view external factors that may or may not contribute to the seizures.
SproutData is not just for seizures. Its a powerful tool to store information such as doctors, medications, dates of past surgeries and other health-related information. It's all in one place and easy to access your health notes anytime, anywhere.
Medication management is the number one requested tool. With the medication database, users are better organized and have the ability to see active or inactive medications.
If you are tired of a spiral notebook and pen to jot down your important health information then it's time to create your free account here https://sproutdata.org/
I am affiliated with SproutData; my husband is the computer programmer that created the site to organize our medical notes from our daughter's complex medical issues.
To read the full story about our family and how SproutData helped us see the Facebook page linked below.
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The story A Thousand Marbles touched my husband and me to the core. Its a short story about what each day meant and means with the people who you love. It's very well written, and I want to share. Please take what you want, leave what you must but share if you care.
Enjoy. We sure did.
Here is a link to the story: A THOUSAND MARBLES
It started out as a family blog to be more organized. Over the years, it has turned out to be better therapy than I ever imagined. I vomit out my emotions onto the screen. Now, I write as an outlet, it's fairly selfish; I do it for me.
I write a lot of letters. I always have my husband read my latest composition. One evening, after printing out my latest letter, I confessed to him that, “I write a lot of letters.” His kind response was slow and he simply said, “Yes, you do.” Which naturally prompted me to write about writing letters.
Not pencil and paper. Yeah, right. I seriously don’t have the capability to be that slow with my thoughts, and my penmanship is a travesty. Shhh, don’t tell my kids. They are still learning the craft. Of course I type on some form of a digital screen and store drafts in the cloud so I’m able to gain access anytime to edit when my anger explodes again. I need to release that shit.
When something is wrong, I refuse to vent on social media. Let me type that again. I refuse to blow my fuse on a social media platform. In my own old-school opinion, it’s just NOT the place for it. When the issue is between a person(s) and me or my family, writing a letter or a text to the source is more appropriate. I include their constituents if it’s necessary, which it is in most of my cases because there’s great satisfaction in adult tattling.
Which brings me to the feeling of satisfaction. Absolutely, it feels fucking terrific when you tell a person who wronged you they need to be held accountable. For example, just a month ago, Principal Sir, your power-hungry ego got out of control when you refused to allow us to tour the public school you run. What makes you think you can do that? Well today, you are called out, sir. So sit down and read my fury with your boss. Which brings me to Miss Special Education Teacher circa 2014. What you did may not be against the law, however, you definitely rode the fine line of ethical and immoral behavior when you decided to hold back my daughter with autism and epilepsy from her 5th grade field trip and then hid it from us. (That happened, and a school-wide policy changed after.)
I don’t have time to write all the letters and small notes I desire. I wish! For example, the very busy small parking lot at preschool. One blue Subaru double-parks every day. YES, this driver takes up two spaces with her shitty car. It is super irritating, to say the least, as I walk past it. I wish I had more time to add sticky notes onto this idiot’s car window. Someday, I will have more time in my day to write Post-It notes to strangers.
Pounding away on a real keyboard is gratifying. It’s not the same sensation when I am typing with my two fat fingers on my tiny smartphone while parked in my car. I have total respect for my sad but strong keyboard keys--venting as I find a sense of closure.
It doesn't always pan out the way I envision it in my head because in my head everyone gets fired. Nope, unfortunately, that ain't the case. The reality is after my letters get delivered and my release is vomited out, there comes some disappointment. Therein lies the reality that the world doesn't revolve around me and my opinions. I’m okay with that. I move forward and carry on with my personal resentment. I look back and I am okay (most of the time) that my thoughtful, well-written letter was my cheap therapy for that day.
There it is. The letter about my letters. Peace out, mudder fudders. Don’t care about haters because I am a special needs mama bear, hear me ROAR.
What's your definition of work and payment? There's so many different meanings to this. Mine is to provide a service in exchange for monetary value. We have this system in place to execute in our everyday lives of having the understanding of getting payment for work or services we perform. Thus, in turn we buy other goods and services. It’s what makes us live in a somewhat civilized society. But to some people living with disabilities the definition varies even more.
My daughter is a teenager who lives with PCDH-19 epilepsy, autism, anxiety and OCD.
However, her definition of work and currency maybe simple things to us, but to her they are very important.
For example, her school work payment cycle is similar to the working class. Her day is to work on her social skills, obey and do what is expected during the 7 hour school day in exchange for reward. Her work days involve these activities:
A similar structure is followed when she ventures into the community.
For over a decade she has had extensive therapy including ABA, sensory diet’s, music, speech and OT. Now in her teenage years, she is reaping the benefits of her hard work. However, we cannot simply walk away from ongoing and important social therapies as they are still ever changing as she grows into adulthood.
After her successful day being focused and keeping it all together she earns soft little pom-poms to stuff in a jar. Every evening before bed we meet at the jar and talk about the activities she worked on. For each earned activity she earns one pom-pom. On good days, sometimes a handful of them and other days maybe only one. After a few weeks, the jar is stuffed with her well earned rewards.
Now the fun part! When the jar is full of those colorful, soft pom-poms, it’s payday. The paycheck stub take the form of one of these activities as she chooses:
The journey towards the jar becoming full is part of the fun with a learning aspect to it. It gives us a chance to reflect on the day, how to improve and feel good about small accomplishments.
Everybody loves a bonus, right? There is one in her "paycheck" on most paydays. Generally speaking, at most kid entertainment venues there's a mighty vending machine around a corner and she always chooses her favorite bonus... Flam'in Hot Cheetos.
For this post I needed to know how to spell Flam'in Hot Cheetos, after a quick Google, this news article caught my eye. If you are interested to learn more about the story behind how the hot Cheetos came to be.
Please leave your comments below with what you do for your child’s reward system.
March 26 is Purple Day
Purple Day is an international grassroots effort dedicated to increase epilepsy awareness globally. On this day people world wide are invited to wear the color purple and attend events to show support of epilepsy awareness.
Who is Cassidy Megan?
She is the brave teen living with epilepsy from Nova Scotia, Canada. She is the force behind the popular Purple Day March 26 that brings awareness to epilepsy. Not only in her home country of Canada but globally with the help of New York-based Anita Kaugmann Foundation and Nova Scotia.
Cassidy would like purple day every day, for more information about her and this particular day http://www.purpleday.org/
Or any questions feel free to email the organization at firstname.lastname@example.org
A simple wish from Cassidy that wanted to spread epilepsy awareness around the world. She has succeeded and we all benefit.
Epilepsy is a chronic disorder, the hallmark of which is recurrent, unprovoked seizures. A person is diagnosed with epilepsy if they have two unprovoked seizures (or one unprovoked seizure with the likelihood of more) that were not caused by some known and reversible medical condition like alcohol withdrawal or extremely low blood sugar.
Learn more about the basics of epilepsy.
7 Quick Facts About Seizures and Epilepsy:
My daughter Allie.
Happy to be in her favorite purple pajamas.
About the writer
Joni Brown is a mother of a teenage daughter living with PCDH-19 epilepsy. It is a rare form of epilepsy that causes her to have hundreds of seizures every year without a known cure. Despite all of her medical issues, her daughter lives a full and happy life.
image from Choutette Publishing
I am not proud that I’m a bit of a Caillou expert. My daughter, living with autism has been a fan of the children's TV show for 14 years now. Most parents can't even spell his name and would love to avoid the show. They go to great lengths just to get through their child’s Caillou phase and introduce other palatable shows.
Caillou is a four-year-old fascinated with the world around him. He lives with his mom, dad and little sister Rosie. The grandparents have a strong connection too, as they whisk Caillou off on big adventures like to the zoo and parks. However, this little character comes off to parents as whiny and annoying. Four-year-olds just like Caillou is trying to live a full life figuring out that the world and preschool is hard work!
Some urban legend says the main character has cancer because he is bald. This is false. The TV show as it turns out is based on the illustrated children’s book from when Caillou was only a nine-month-old baby without hair. The creators thought the character as he grew older with hair growth would be unrecognizable so they kept him bald. Also, a side note from the publishers of Caillou, Choutette Publishing explained on their site, “Caillou’s baldness may make him different, but we hope it helps children understand that being different isn’t just okay, it’s normal.” source, http://www.chouette-publishing.com/ENT
Enough history lesson on Caillou.
So, why does my 14-year-old with autism worship the bald character so much? From my sleuthing and trying to understand why she still watches such shows like this one, Curious George, Dora the Explorer, Barney and Care Bears is understandable.
The predictability and a sense of control are reassuring to her. Over the years and banking over thousands of Caillou hours, she knows every episode and predicts what the start middle and ending will be.
Her world and living with autism, for the most part, is full of sensory overload. Socializing and communication issues such as eye contact and body language are challenging. Anxiety consumes her daily life as she works so hard keeping it all together during a 7 hour school day.
She cannot wait to come home change into her soft pajamas,
lounge in her favorite comfy recliner and consume her treasured toddler shows.
This is her "drug" of choice.
Is that too harsh to say?
Naw, because it makes sense to me.
My daughter in her favorite part of the library checking out cartoon books.
She chooses to watch educational programs, I am really okay with that. We have come along way from when I grew up watching the Tom & Jerry Cartoon, where Tom the mean cat is trying to hurt a little gray mouse named Jerry.
I am happy to report because of my research about this topic, I have new found peace with that sweet, whiny Caillou character!
Leave a comment below:
How do you unwind from
a hard day's work?
This story was over a decade ago, but it still resonates with me today.
My daughter was four years old undiagnosed with Autism at the time, but we saw the signs earlier on as most parents do. I did my best as a new mom to be active outdoors in our neighborhood and walked to nearby parks with my daughter. We always seemed to run into our neighbors, a mother and daughter, at the park and I felt comfortable to extend an invite for a playdate at our home one afternoon.
The mother and I had a few commonalities as we were both first-time mothers with girls of similar ages. The playdate started in our living room with some toys for the girls, and us moms sitting at the kitchen table watching and chatting. After about 20 minutes the little girl came up to me and said, “she (pointing at my daughter) told me I had an ugly dress on.” The dress was brown, and my daughter only wore pink at the time, so I believe she was expressing her dislike to a color in a direct comment.
I was thinking to myself, clearly, these two girls needed to figure this small spat out. However, their team was not as flexible that day. The mom was so angry she demanded an apology from my four year old. My daughter did not respond as she was off in her own world playing with toys and carrying on not caring where her friend went.
I will never forget the angry face the mother had when she looked at me and said, “My daughter will never play with yours again, I do not want her around her.” I was devastated at that moment. The playdate went to hell, and I assume my neighbor won’t talk to us again.
Today, and a decade of what I know about special needs and other parents, I would not feel as bad as I felt that day. That mom was protective as a good mom should (maybe a little too protective.) I should have known better to screen personalities before jumping in an intimate playdate situation.
The point is, sometimes you will have people that just don’t get it. Even today, I have learned not to set ourselves up to get burned by others. Our neighbors that accept us will come around and others I don’t get my hopes up. People have insecurities or own personal issues, but it's not worth my energy because the next family will be an amazing fit for us.
Peace out to all those perfect families as I am sure you have other issues that I won't ever understand.
It was a neighborhood holiday party. There were hundreds of kids, or so it seemed, running around and having fun. The moms and dads made nice attempts to wear holiday-themed clothing. This was not an event for my day-to-day black yoga pants. Excited, I applied makeup, brushed my hair, and put on a skirt. I was ready to join. I was enjoying myself at the party chatting with other moms. I offered to fill-up another mom’s glass with more punch. I took her empty glass with my un-manicured hands and nails. These nails were past the due date of reapplying new nail polish. (I'm a nighttime DIY nail applier at home when kids are sound asleep in bed.) I never really made it a priority to upkeep any other kind of nail detail.
I knew I was caught when I grabbed the glass out of her gorgeous hand. We both looked down and caught a millisecond of what my nails revealed. This nice women's nails were spectacular, to say the least, as they were embellished with the latest holiday nail art. Clearly she spent time at the nail bar just for the holiday parties. Lucky lady!
I was embarrassed at that moment; however, I stayed and played with the kids for another hour. I was driving home and thinking about my nail scandal, which really wasn't, let's be totally honest, it was all just in my head. So I decided to look at it from a different perspective: These nails showed that I completed serious work. These ugly nails had a hard week of taking care of children and all of their glorious messes. These nails are mine, and it’s the best I can do today.
Peace out to all the marvelous woman that make time to salon it, I will get there someday.
Joni Brown writes about her life raising her daughter that lives with PCDH-19 epilepsy, autism, anxiety and OCD.