“Every discovery begins with curiosity. Every collaboration brings us closer to better treatments. Every patient reminds us why this work matters.”

Patient Journeys

Every individual living with RFC1-related disease has a unique story. Some have spent years searching for a diagnosis. Others have navigated challenges with balance, neuropathy, chronic cough, vision changes, or daily activities. Along the way, they have discovered resilience, practical strategies, and sources of hope that can encourage others facing similar journeys.

These stories celebrate perseverance, provide encouragement to those who are newly diagnosed, and remind us that behind every scientific discovery are real people whose lives inspire the work we do.


A Family Journey to Hope

Part 1: The Family Behind the Diagnosis

By Nanette Presswell

“Srećna Slava”—Happy Slava—rang around the room as the Stojanovich family gathered in January 2007 to celebrate its annual Serbian Orthodox family tradition. There was food, laughter, conversation and, later, the Kolo, danced together with linked arms. As the evening ended, I noticed that all four Stojanovich brothers, then in their late 40s to late 50s, were struggling with their balance. Two fell on the sloping lawn, laughing and joking with their characteristic humour.

My heart sank. Dušan, the eldest brother and my soulmate, had been diagnosed with idiopathic peripheral neuropathy, but this did not explain his balance difficulties. Could all four brothers have the same underlying illness?

Dušan was born in a refugee camp in Austria in 1949 after his parents were displaced during World War II. He arrived in Australia at 11 months old. We met at the University of New South Wales in 1972 and married in 1979. Together, we raised our two daughters, sharing decades of love, creativity and family life.

For years, the brothers had also experienced a persistent, unexplained cough. We could not have known it might be an early clue to a broader neurological condition.

In 2008, specialists in Melbourne recognised Dušan’s cerebellar ataxia, sensory neuronopathy and vestibular dysfunction. Eventually, we had a name: CANVAS. The discovery of its genetic cause in 2019 finally offered an explanation.

Living Together, Adapting Together

All four brothers experienced progressive illness of varying severity. Dušan and his brother John died from complications of CANVAS in 2022, within two months of each other. Their two surviving brothers continue to live with significant consequences of RFC1-related disease.

Yet illness never extinguished Dušan’s creativity, humour or enthusiasm for life. For much of the two to three decades of his illness, we continued to enjoy life, making adjustments along the way.

We loved travelling. In Morocco in 2015, Dušan insisted on bringing a smart but rather large suitcase—with no wheels—that he had bought on special at Aldi! Manoeuvring it up the broad stone “donkey stairs” taught us a lesson.

For our European trip in 2018, we travelled much lighter. I walked arm-in-arm with Dušan, who also used a walking stick. In Saint Petersburg, a destination on his bucket list, we quickly learnt the Russian word for help. People were wonderfully willing to assist. We were reminded of the kindness of strangers and the importance of accepting help.

Nanette and Dušan in Saint Petersburg, 2018.

As Dušan needed more support at home, a home-care package enabled us to find wonderful carers who recognised his interests. They helped him continue painting and enjoying outings. As a former civil engineer, he particularly loved visiting local building sites to watch construction. These ordinary activities brought enormous pleasure.

Family occasions remained precious. Our youngest daughter brought forward her wedding to April 2021 so that Dušan, then using a wheelchair, could still walk her down the aisle. It was a very special moment for us all.

Dušan, carer Sandra and Nanette with their daughter on her wedding day, April 2021.

What Helped Me as a Carer

Caring for someone with progressive neurological disease can be physically exhausting, emotionally confronting and isolating. Every family’s experience is different, but these are some things that helped me.

  • Accept help and make time for yourself. I continued working part-time and arranged for trusted people to care for Dušan, giving me time to recharge. Accepting help is essential, not a failure.

  • Stay connected. Friends who simply listen can be invaluable. Other affected families, a trusted GP, a multidisciplinary care team, counselling and respite can all form part of a support network.

  • Recognise grief and loss. Grief can begin long before someone dies. Changes in independence, abilities, shared activities and anticipated futures affect both the person with the illness and those close to them, sometimes differently.

  • Respond with patience. Frustration can reflect distress, loss of control or difficulty communicating. Stepping back to consider what someone may be experiencing can help everyone respond with greater compassion.

  • Balance independence and safety. Preserving dignity and choice matters, even as support needs change.

  • Keep meaningful activities in daily life. Time outdoors, creative interests and family occasions can make an enormous difference.

Holding On to Hope

As both a GP and an affected family member, I wanted our experience to help improve the journey for other families. That wish led me into research advocacy—a part of my story I look forward to sharing in a future issue.

Our family’s experience has included uncertainty, disability, loss and grief. It has also shown us the enduring importance of friendship, creativity, humour and generosity.

Through RFC1 support groups, I have encountered extraordinary wisdom, kindness and resourcefulness. Sharing our experiences helps us feel less alone and gives us much to offer one another.

I thank Dr. Allan Tissenbaum for inviting me to contribute to the RFC1 Foundation newsletter and commend him for his initiative in establishing the Foundation.