{extra-ordinary
kids}
No Mom's Land
Dealing with an UNdiagnosis
By Amy Crelly

“The whole experience just helped me be even more compassionate,” says
Dr. Julie Vails, of the search for a diagnosis for her own son.
Every
day Dr. Julie Vails answers patients’ questions and solves medical
puzzles at Vails Family Practice in Elk Grove, but when her own son’s
development began to puzzle pediatricians (including her), she found herself
on the other side of the exam table, coping with terrible uncertainty.
When little Luca
was born in October 2007, his exam results didn’t raise
flags. But by his six-month well-baby exam, Luca had fallen under the fifth
percentile for height. At first, Julie and her husband Tripp (5’ and
5’8” respectively) thought “no big deal.” Yet Luca’s
head circumference moved up the growth charts, from the 50th to the 95th percentile.
“I quietly thought my son was a little funny looking,” Julie recalls, “but
he was on task developmentally and I assumed that was just my medical mind
going crazy.” Luca’s facial features were similar to those with
hypochondroplasia (a form of short-limbed dwarfism), but his limb proportions
were normal on x-ray. The pediatrician advised the family to keep monitoring
Luca’s growth, a “wait and watch carefully” approach Julie
knew well.
Then, one day
in January 2009, a little old lady told Julie her “Down's
baby” was very cute. “When I told her my son did not have Down
syndrome, she asked why the doctors hadn't told me yet—because ‘they
all look alike’!”
“I
was afraid of both jumping the gun and missing a major diagnosis
in my own kid… I was mentally exhausted, both as Luca's
mom and as a
physician.”
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“I could have screamed,” says Julie. This stranger had verbalized
something Julie had sensed all along. “My mommy instinct was going off,” says
Julie. “My doctor instinct was going off.” She took Luca to a neurologist
for another opinion. “In five minutes he said, ‘Oh, yeah, something
is wrong,’” and Luca was diagnosed with hypochondroplasia.
Luca’s pediatrician
and endocrinologist, however, still questioned the neurologist’s assessment,
and when Julie began to reach out to other parents through Little People
of America (LPA), more doubts arose. “Everyone
was so welcoming and incredible—but there wasn't anyone with such subtle
features [as Luca’s].” Luca was also already taller than many of
the little people at events. “Many LP parents asked us why we were there.
I kept thinking, Do I have it all wrong?”
Julie found herself
researching night and day. “I was afraid of both
jumping the gun and missing a major diagnosis in my own kid… It was very
hard—not the diagnosis, the UNdiagnosis. I was trying not to be the crazy
patient, and I hated not being able to ‘fix’ whatever was wrong
right then.”
The family took
Luca to the Skeletal Dysplasia Clinic at Children's Hospital Oakland for
yet another
opinion in March. There he was diagnosed with congenital
short stature—meaning? “He is just short,” explains Julie,
who says the experience has made her an even more compassionate family practitioner.
“Sometimes,
you just have to let your kids show themselves,” says
Julie. “[Doctors] can’t put people through a machine and say, ‘here’s
your medical destiny.’ As difficult as it is, sometimes we just have
to watch and wait, but that’s so hard for a mom... Now I understand that
more than ever.”
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