Logan Pacl stands out among teenagers. At 17, he faces a rare illness known as Sanfilippo syndrome. Often called “childhood Alzheimer’s,” this cruel disorder gradually takes away a child’s cognitive skills, mirroring the effects of Alzheimer’s in older people. But he keeps fighting and uses social media to spread awareness about his condition.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Logan Pacl’s life is a battle against time. Diagnosed with Sanfilippo syndrome, often known as “childhood Alzheimer’s,” the 17-year-old from Silverdale faces a relentless genetic disorder that viciously strips away the very essence of childhood. Caused by a single defective gene, this neurodegenerative disease attacks the brain and spinal cord, leaving behind a cruel wake of lost abilities, seizures, and constant pain. It’s a ticking time bomb, as most children with this terminal illness don’t survive beyond their mid-teens.
For Logan’s family, the heartbreak began early. Born in 2007 with his twin brother Austin, Logan seemed like any other healthy baby. Both boys hit their developmental milestones—until Logan began to fall behind. A year in, the red flags emerged: while Austin was speaking, Logan remained silent. The difference between the brothers grew, signaling the start of a devastating journey.
Sanfilippo syndrome doesn’t just rob children of their future—it erases their past.
Then the news of the diagnosis hit the parents, something no one could have anticipated.
As Logan’s condition worsened, with chronic infections and a noticeably swollen belly, Noelle and William were left searching for answers. In January 2010, they learned that Logan had Sanfilippo syndrome, a terminal illness with no cure or treatment, and a life expectancy that typically extends only into the late teens. “I’ll never forget the day we got the phone call. The genetic counselor on the other end went on and on, and all I thought was, well get to the part on how we fix this. Then she said it, ’This disease is terminal, and there is no cure or treatment,’” his parents recall.
Noelle recalled her initial reaction, grappling with the news that the disease was terminal. The weight of the diagnosis was overwhelming, leaving her with a heart that felt as though it had dropped into her stomach. The severity of the situation rendered her unable to process much beyond the devastating reality.
Noelle described the experience of mourning not just the child she had but the life she had envisioned for him, a life that was abruptly stolen away. The medical advice they received was minimal and unhelpful, simply advising them to take Logan home and cherish their time with him. This lack of concrete guidance only deepened their sense of helplessness.
In their search for hope, Noelle and William discovered an experimental stem cell transplant through online research. Inspired by the success of another mother’s child, they decided to pursue the same treatment for Logan. So, Pacl went through a tough three-month treatment that was basically a bone marrow transplant. He had to endure chemotherapy to wipe out his immune system so it could accept the new stem cells. It was a risky procedure, but it seems to have helped with some of Logan’s physical symptoms.
His mother uses social media to spread awareness about his condition.
At 17, Logan’s life is very different from that of most teenagers. Losing his ability to speak at a young age was tough for him and his family, but over time, he’s become more easygoing. “Life with Logan is anything but typical. Each day is a battle to maintain the skills he still has,” his mother Noelle said.
Since 2020, Noelle has been a vocal advocate for Sanfilippo syndrome, using TikTok to share her family’s story. Her videos have reached a global audience, raising awareness about the disorder and encouraging other parents to seek early diagnosis for their children.
Although Logan’s future is uncertain, the Pacl family is committed to making the most of their time together. Noelle and William used to avoid thinking about what lies ahead, but now they focus on cherishing every moment with Logan and ensuring he enjoys his time to the fullest. Noelle notes that among Sanfilippo parents, there’s a bit of a joke that all their children seem like siblings, sharing similar features like bushy eyebrows, a low nasal bridge, and large, round stomachs.
Even with the demands of caring for Logan, Noelle keeps life as normal as possible for Logan’s siblings, Austin and Aidyn. She acknowledges that having a brother with special needs can bring its own set of benefits.
As for sharing Logan’s journey online, Noelle remains thoughtful about what she posts. While she plans to continue sharing, she’s careful to respect her family’s privacy. “We just live in the moment,” his mother said. “And if something comes up, and we’re like, we can make that, we’ll do it.”
People in comments react differently.
Mostly people express support and empathy.
- You take the most wonderful care of him. You are the greatest mom. © lauralang1108 / Instagram
But some show a bit of skepticism.
- Genuine question, what is your plan when you are gone? © devin_abq.505 / Instagram
- I just wanna know why it’s necessary. People have to publicize their children’s conditions. Why do people think that we all wanna know what’s wrong with your child? I feel sorry for the parents, but I don’t know why you want to put this all out there. I’m sure you have support group publicizing putting your child out there like this. © marlawomble / Instagram
Today, conversations about living with disabilities are becoming more open, especially on social media. Celebrities are sharing their experiences as parents of children with special needs, helping to normalize these discussions and inspire others. This shift fosters understanding and empathy, creating a more inclusive environment for everyone.
My Brother Kicked Our Grandma out Because She Had No Money Left – She Taught Him a Lesson He Will Never Forget
When my brother Paul kicked Grandma Eleanor out for not contributing financially, I took her in, driven by love and loyalty. As she rebuilt her life and found unexpected success, Paul’s regret surfaced, but I wondered if it would be enough to mend our broken bonds.
“Rachel, I can’t keep doing this,” Paul said, slamming his cup down on the table. “She’s costing too much.”
“Paul, she’s our grandmother. She raised us, remember?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I could see the tension in his jaw, the frustration in his eyes.
“That was then. Things are different now,” he said, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t bring anything to the table anymore. She just sits there, painting and wasting time.”
A man and woman arguing in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
“Those paintings mean something to her,” I said. “And they could mean something to us if we let them.”
Paul scoffed. “Sentimental nonsense. I need to think about the future, Rachel. We can’t afford dead weight.”
I felt a lump form in my throat. “Paul, it’s not about what she can give us now. It’s about what she’s already given.”
A man and woman arguing in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
He stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve got a family to think about. Expenses are through the roof. If she can’t contribute, I don’t see why we should carry the load.”
“Because she’s family. She’s more than family; this is Grandma Eleanor we’re talking about,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Weeks passed, and Paul’s demeanor only grew colder. Grandma Eleanor tried to hide the hurt, but I could see it in her eyes, the way she clutched her paintbrushes like lifelines.
My kids adored her, always sitting by her side as she painted, their laughter filling the house with a warmth Paul’s home had long since lost.
A woman makes a call on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
One evening, Paul called me. “Rachel, it’s time she moves out. I can’t do this anymore.”
I felt my heart sink. “Where will she go?”
“She can stay with you,” he said bluntly. “You seem to care so much.”
I agreed, but the conversation left a bitter taste in my mouth. I couldn’t understand how Paul had become so heartless. I prepared the spare room, knowing Grandma would need a space that felt like home, a place where she could paint without feeling like a burden.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
When I broke the news to Eleanor, she smiled softly, though I saw the tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you, Rachel. You’ve always had a kind heart.”
“Grandma, you don’t need to thank me. This is your home too,” I said, hugging her tightly.
The move was quick. Paul didn’t even help. He watched from the doorway as we packed up her few belongings. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said, almost to convince himself.
An elderly woman and child arrange flowers together | Source: Pexels
I drove her to my house, the silence heavy between us. As we pulled into the driveway, she reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’ll be okay, Rachel.”
Inside, my kids greeted her with open arms. “Great-Grandma, show us how to paint like you!” they exclaimed, pulling her into the living room where her easel was already set up.
Eleanor smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen in weeks. “Of course, darlings. Let’s create something beautiful.”
A woman browses through images on a laptop | Source: Pexels
The days passed, and Eleanor began to rediscover her passion for painting. My kids were her biggest fans, always eager to see her latest work. “You’ve got a real gift, Grandma,” I told her one afternoon, admiring a vibrant landscape she’d just finished.
“Thank you, Rachel. I’d almost forgotten how much I loved this,” she replied, her eyes shining with a renewed sense of purpose.
With the kids’ encouragement, she started sharing her artwork online. I helped her set up a social media account, and soon, her unique style and heartfelt stories behind each piece began to attract attention. Comments poured in, praising her talent and resilience.
An elderly woman examines a cell phone screen | Source: Pexels
One evening, she received a message from a local art gallery. “Rachel, look at this,” she said, her hands trembling with excitement. “They want to give me a solo exhibition!”
I hugged her tightly. “That’s amazing, Grandma! You deserve this.”
The weeks leading up to the exhibition were a flurry of activity. Eleanor worked tirelessly, creating new pieces and preparing for the big day. My kids helped with everything, from selecting frames to writing descriptions for each painting.
Patrons walk through an art exhibition | Source: Pexels
The night of the exhibition arrived, and the gallery buzzed with excitement. People admired her work, and almost every painting sold. She even received several commissions, securing her financial independence.
Eleanor stood before the crowd, her voice steady and strong. “Thank you all for believing in me,” she said, tears of joy streaming down her face.
Word of her success reached Paul, and a few days later, he showed up at my doorstep. “Rachel, can we talk?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft.
A man facing the camera | Source: Pexels
“Paul, what do you want?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“I made a mistake,” he admitted, looking down. “I shouldn’t have kicked her out. I see that now.”
Eleanor stepped forward, her eyes piercing through him. “It’s a little late for that, Paul,” she said, her voice firm. “You showed your true colors when you turned your back on family.”
An elderly woman looking into the camera lens | Source: Pexels
He shifted uncomfortably. “I want to make it right, Grandma. Please.”
She shook her head, eyes narrowing. “No, Paul. You only want to make things right because you see my success now. Where was this concern when I needed a home, when all I had was my art and my memories?”
“I was wrong,” he said, his voice breaking. “I see that now. I’ve lost so much because of my actions.”
A elderly woman looks through window glass, with a figure in the background | Source: Pexels
“You lost our respect,” she said. “And that’s something you can’t buy back with apologies or money. Family is about love and support, not about what you can get from them.”
Paul looked devastated. “Please, give me a chance to make amends,” he pleaded.
Eleanor stood firm, her renewed strength evident in her posture. “You need to learn what it means to truly value someone for who they are, not what they can provide financially. Until then, I have nothing more to say to you.”
A man holding his head in his hands | Source: Pexels
Paul hung his head, realizing the full weight of his actions. “I understand,” he whispered before turning away, a broken man.
As Paul left, Eleanor turned to me, her eyes filled with resolve. “Rachel, I’m grateful for you and the kids. You’ve shown me what true family means.”
We hugged, and I felt a sense of peace knowing she was finally where she belonged, surrounded by love and support.
Two women embracing | Source: Pexels
Eleanor’s art continued to flourish. Her story of resilience and dignity spread through the community, inspiring many. People came to her exhibitions not just to see her paintings, but to hear her story, and to learn about the woman who found strength in the face of adversity.
One evening, as we sat in the living room, the kids at her feet, eagerly painting, I reflected on everything that had happened. “Grandma, your strength has changed us all,” I said. “You’ve taught us what it means to stand up for yourself and to cherish the people who truly matter.”
A woman painting alongside two children | Source: Pexels
She smiled, her eyes twinkling with pride. “It’s never too late to find your strength, Rachel. And it’s never too late to teach others the true essence of family.”
Paul, meanwhile, was left to grapple with his own failings. He watched from afar as Eleanor’s life blossomed without him. It was a harsh lesson, but one he needed to learn. His materialism had cost him dearly, a reminder that true wealth is found in the love and respect of those who matter most.
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