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Date: November 20, 2005 Section: News Edition: All Page: 9 One little boy's four years of joy and pain Sheila Ahern Daily Herald Staff Writer Tony Tzoubris' huge smile pushes up cheeks made chubby by hormone shots his dad gives him every day. Not that the 4-year-old holds a grudge. When he gets the chance, Tony climbs on his dad's lap, wraps a chubby arm around his neck and listens to his mom, Patti, and sister, Lia, chat in their Arlington Heights home. His smile lets his family know he's OK - that for now, he's forgotten about needles and hospital visits that last hours. Tony's family looks for his smile because most of the time, even they can't understand what he's saying. OMS: No cause, cure About 80 children are diagnosed with the disease each year worldwide. Because it is so rare, both funding and help are scarce. Support groups are nothing more than an Internet e-mail click. Insurance companies don't cover experimental medicine or treatments - which, for Tony, is just about everything. So Tony's parents - Tony and Patti - are hoping to find a cure for OMS themselves, one dollar at a time. Even though little Tony's treatment costs about $100,000 per year, they're not raising money for themselves. They're raising money for research. They're raising money for a cure. So far, they've raised $220,000 between overseeing Tony's 24- hour care and raising two other children: Lia, 6, and Sam, 2. "We'll be able to tell Tony we did everything we could," Patti said. When it comes to rare diseases, "everything" is money. And Patti and Tony want to raise a whole lot of it - $1 million. How it started The most widely accepted OMS theory is the auto-immune theory. The brain is an innocent bystander caught in the "crossfire" between the body's immune system and a tumor or virus, which it is trying to destroy. Brain regions like the cerebellum, brainstem and limbic system bear the brunt of the onslaught, according to Dr. Michael Pranzatelli of Southern Illinois University in Springfield. Pranzatelli is Tony's doctor and heads the largest pediatric OMC center in North America. He is treating 120 children from all over the world. For Tony, it all started on July 8, 2003, when he was 20 months. He was eating breakfast with his family and between bites of cereal, Patti noticed a slight tremor in Tony's right hand. Several hours later, the entire right side of Tony's body was shaking, so his parents took him to Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago. After a battery of tests all came back negative, the doctors told Tony and Patti that little Tony had a post-viral infection and would improve within weeks. During Tony's next trip to the hospital, he was diagnosed with OMS. Then came the spinal taps - six of them - along with eight CAT scans and two rounds of chemotherapy. "Everything a parent would never want to do to their child is what we've had to do," Tony said. Patti nods alongside her husband. "Tony just accepts it," she said. "They put in an IV, and he doesn't even blink. He's had treatments that last seven hours." It's also hard for Tony's siblings. Tony's future They do know relapses will be likely. Relapses that bring back the full-body tremors. Doctors will not give Tony and Patti a prognosis. "Tony could wake up one morning and not be able to walk," Patti said. Tony must also take daily hormone injections that caused his tiny frame to gain 15 pounds in a few weeks. OMS also causes speech problems that makes Tony self-conscious, Patti said. Despite all of the problems, Tony's very much like normal 4- year-olds. When Patti brings it up, Tony nods about his Scooby Doo Halloween costume or a birthday helium balloon that got away. For the first time in his life, Tony is in school, taking special classes at Greenbriar Elementary School. Tony's smile also touched his teacher, Nicki Koch, who organized a silent auction in Tony's honor that will take place during parent-teacher conferences Tuesday at Greenbrier Elementary School in Arlington Heights. "His personality and his smile - he's just a great kid," Koch said. Tony was supposed to attend school last year but was too sick and was home-schooled. Tony doesn't know a life that didn't include needles, spinal taps, chemotherapy, nuclear scans and painful treatments. But maybe someday, thanks to his parents, he will. Until then, he smiles. Because when you're 4, you can leave memories of needles at the hospital. At home, there's television to watch with Lia, and little Sam is up from his nap, toddling around and just begging for a loving poke from his older brother. "Looking at him. You would never know how sick he was," Patti says as she smiles at Tony drawing a picture. "You'd never know how sick he could be." When Patti mentions his name, Tony pauses his doodling and looks up. And he smiles. OMS at a glance |
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