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.
I Went to Pick Up My Wife and Newborn Twins from the Hospital — I Found Only the Babies and a Note
When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: Suzie was gone, leaving only a cryptic note. As I juggled caring for the babies and unraveling the truth, I discovered the dark secrets that tore my family apart.
As I drove to the hospital, the balloons bobbed beside me in the passenger seat. My smile was unstoppable. Today, I was bringing home my girls!
A man driving a car | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t wait to see Suzie’s face light up when she saw the nursery, the dinner I’d cooked, the photos I’d framed for the mantle. She deserved joy after nine long months of back pain, morning sickness, and an endless carousel of my overbearing mother’s opinions.
It was the culmination of every dream I’d had for us.
I waved to the nurses at the station as I hurried to Suzie’s room. But when I pushed through the door, I froze in surprise.
A man holding balloons | Source: Midjourney
My daughters were sleeping in their bassinets, but Suzie was gone. I thought she might have stepped out for fresh air, but then I saw the note. I tore it open, my hands trembling.
“Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”
The world blurred as I reread it. And reread it. The words didn’t shift, didn’t morph into something less terrible. A coldness prickled along my skin, freezing me in place.
A man reading a note | Source: Midjourney
What the hell did she mean? Why would she… no. This couldn’t be happening. Suzie was happy. She’d been happy. Hadn’t she?
A nurse carrying a clipboard entered the room. “Good morning, sir, here’s the discharge —”
“Where’s my wife?” I interrupted.
The nurse hesitated, biting her lip. “She checked out this morning. She said you knew.”
A nurse holding a clipboard | Source: Pexels
“She — where did she go?” I stammered to the nurse, waving the note. “Did she say anything else? Was she upset?”
The nurse frowned. “She seemed fine. Just… quiet. Are you saying you didn’t know?”
I shook my head. “She said nothing… just left me this note.”
I left the hospital in a daze, cradling my daughters, the note crumpled in my fist.
A worried man leaving a hospital | Source: Midjourney
Suzie was gone. My wife, my partner, the woman I’d thought I knew, had vanished without a word of warning. All I had were two tiny girls, my shattered plans, and that ominous message.
When I pulled into the driveway, my mom, Mandy, was waiting on the porch, beaming and holding a casserole dish. The scent of cheesy potatoes wafted toward me, but it did nothing to soothe the storm brewing inside.
“Oh, let me see my grandbabies!” she exclaimed, setting the dish aside and rushing toward me. “They’re beautiful, Ben, absolutely beautiful.”
An excited woman | Source: Midjourney
I stepped back, holding the car seat protectively. “Not yet, Mom.”
Her face faltered, confusion knitting her brow. “What’s wrong?”
I shoved the note in her direction. “This is what’s wrong! What did you do to Suzie?”
Her smile vanished, and she took the note with shaking fingers. Her pale blue eyes scanned the words, and for a moment, she looked like she might faint.
A woman reading a note | Source: Midjourney
“Ben, I don’t know what this is about,” Mom replied. “She’s… she’s always been emotional. Maybe she —”
“Don’t lie to me!” The words erupted, my voice echoing off the porch walls. “You’ve never liked her. You’ve always found ways to undermine her, criticize her —”
“I’ve only ever tried to help!” Her voice broke, tears spilling over her cheeks.
I turned away, my gut churning. I couldn’t trust her words anymore. Whatever had happened between them had driven Suzie to leave. And now I was left to pick up the pieces.
A man carrying twin babies into a house | Source: Midjourney
That night, after settling Callie and Jessica in their cribs, I sat at the kitchen table with the note in one hand and a whiskey in the other. My mother’s protests rang in my ears, but I couldn’t let them drown out the question looping in my mind: What did you do, Mom?
I thought back to our family gatherings, and the small barbs my mother would throw Suzie’s way. Suzie had laughed them off, but I could see now, too late, how they must have cut her.
I started digging, both literally and metaphorically.
A man searching through a closet | Source: Midjourney
My sorrow and longing for my missing wife deepened as I looked through her things. I found her jewelry box in the closet and set it aside, then noticed a slip of paper peeking out beneath the lid.
When I opened it, I found a letter to Suzie in my mother’s handwriting. My heart pounded as I read:
“Suzie, you’ll never be good enough for my son. You’ve trapped him with this pregnancy, but don’t think for a second you can fool me. If you care about them, you’ll leave before you ruin their lives.”
A man reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hand shook as I dropped the letter. This was it. This was why she’d left. My mother had been tearing her down behind my back. I replayed every interaction, every moment I’d dismissed as harmless. How blind had I been?
It was almost midnight, but I didn’t care. I went to the guest room and banged on the door until Mom opened it.
“How could you?” I waved the letter in her face. “All this time, I thought you were just being overbearing, but no, you’ve been bullying Suzie for years, haven’t you?”
An angry man holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
Her face paled as she scanned the letter. “Ben, listen to me —”
“No!” I cut her off. “You listen to me. Suzie left because of you. Because you made her feel worthless. And now she’s gone, and I’m here trying to raise two babies on my own.”
“I only wanted to protect you,” she whispered. “She wasn’t good enough —”
“She’s the mother of my children! You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me or them. You’re done here, Mom. Pack your things. Get out.”
A man pointing | Source: Midjourney
Her tears fell freely now. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I said, cold as steel.
She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. The look in my eyes must have told her I wasn’t bluffing. She left an hour later, her car disappearing down the street.
The next weeks were hell.
A man with his head in his hands | Source: Midjourney
Between sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and endless crying (sometimes the babies, sometimes me) I barely had time to think.
But every quiet moment brought Suzie back to my mind. I contacted her friends and family, hoping for any hint of where she might be. None of them had heard from her. But one, her college friend Sara, hesitated before speaking.
“She talked about feeling… trapped,” Sara admitted over the phone. “Not by you, Ben, but by everything. The pregnancy, your mom. She told me once that Mandy said the twins would be better off without her.”
A man speaking on his phone | Source: Midjourney
The knife twisted deeper. “Why didn’t she tell me my mom was saying these things to her?”
“She was scared, Ben. She thought Mandy might turn you against her. I told her to talk to you, but…” Sara’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I should’ve pushed harder.”
“Do you think she’s okay?”
“I hope so,” Sara said quietly. “Suzie’s stronger than she thinks. But Ben… keep looking for her.”
Weeks turned into months.
A man rocking a baby | Source: Midjourney
One afternoon, while Callie and Jessica napped, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unlisted number.
When I opened it, my breath caught. It was a photo of Suzie, holding the twins at the hospital, her face pale but serene. Beneath it was a message:
“I wish I was the type of mother they deserve. I hope you forgive me.”
I called the number immediately, but it didn’t go through.
A man making a phone call | Source: Midjourney
I texted back, but my messages didn’t go through either. It was like shouting into a void. But the photo reignited my determination. Suzie was out there. She was alive and at least a part of her still longed for us, even though she was clearly still in a bad place. I’d never give up on her.
A year passed with no leads or clues to Suzie’s whereabouts. The twins’ first birthday was bittersweet. I’d poured everything into raising them, but the ache for Suzie never left.
That evening, as the girls played in the living room, there was a knock at the door.
A home entrance interior | Source: Pexels
I thought I was dreaming at first. Suzie stood there, clutching a small gift bag, her eyes brimming with tears. She looked healthier, her cheeks were fuller, and her posture was more confident. But the sadness was still there, hovering behind her smile.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I didn’t think. I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dared. She sobbed into my shoulder, and for the first time in a year, I felt whole.
A man hugging a woman | Source: Midjourney
Over the following weeks, Suzie told me how the postpartum depression, my mom’s cruel words, and her feelings of inadequacy had overwhelmed her.
She’d left to protect the twins and to escape the spiral of self-loathing and despair. Therapy had helped her rebuild, one painstaking step at a time.
“I didn’t want to leave,” she said one night, sitting on the nursery floor as the girls slept. “But I didn’t know how to stay.”
A woman sitting on a nursery floor | Source: Midjourney
I took her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
And we did. It wasn’t easy — healing never is. But love, resilience, and the shared joy of watching Callie and Jessica grow were enough to rebuild what we’d almost lost.
Here’s another story: Thirteen years ago, I adopted my late husband’s secret twin daughters after his fatal car crash revealed his double life. I gave them everything, but at sixteen, they locked me out of my home. One week later, I discovered the shocking reason for their actions.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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