Diagnosing Nick

By April, I was losing hope when a teacher of Nick's who had been coming to our home to work with him, reminded me of the Mayo Clinic. I knew it was a place where doctors are paid with a salary, not per patient, and where the concept of teamwork is embraced. I made a number of calls, wrote up my own report detailing his illness, coordinated with several doctors' offices to have all his records forwarded, and within a month, we were on our way from our home in Texas to Minnesota.

In the single week we were at the clinic, Nick's illness was confirmed as the result of the virus that began last October. The team of doctors at the clinic put Nick through a slew of tests. Some of them were repeats of the tests for an inner-ear disorder, but he also went through a tilt-table test for orthostatic intolerance, an eye exam, a neurological exam, strength tests, autonomic nerve tests (to be sure he had no permanent damage) and blood work. The doctors told us that Nick's dizziness stemmed from his inner-ear damage, caused by the virus, but that it could be reversed over time with intensive physical therapy that focuses on balance. We are lucky that the ear damage did not affect his hearing. Though the doctors said it could be six months or longer before the dizziness is gone, Nick now had a goal—and hope.

Each physician was confident, kind and invested in Nick. They built on each other's findings and relayed information. With their confidence, so too came my son's. It seems that a big chunk of Nick's difficulty in walking has been Nick. He's been afraid. At one point, after a conversation with him about the importance of pushing on, about the role positive thinking plays in healing, we walked into the clinic'smuseum. A short film about the clinic's history talked about how Dr. Mayo wanted to create a place where patients could be diagnosed using a team approach and where they could learn about the importance of the mind to healing. A light bulb went off in Nick's head.

When we returned home, he lined the upstairs hallway with blue painters tape laid out in rows and boxes. He followed the rows like a game of hopscotch without the hop—attempting to keep his feet in the boxes until he got to the last box and turned around to do it again. Sometimes he sang the Rocky score when he got to the end. Sometimes I did too.

It's been just over a year since Nick's illness began. He still tires fairly quickly, but at the end of August he was able to return to school with a schedule that was specially designed in case he needs to cut his days short. Thanks to physical therapy, the power of hope, and the physicians at Mayo—who saw beyond the clinical to the real boy in front of them—Nick's dizziness has finally relented. The future is once again filled with endless possibilities for Nick, an aspiring filmmaker, who now spends his free time honing his craft, and dreaming about the day he can return to the clinic and give back. And when he does, I'll be proud to be by his side.

Shultz Lives In Plano, Texas

© 2008