Cancer is a Monster

Cancer is a monster!

A monster that lurks in the deepest recesses of our minds. We always have a hidden fear that is never allowed to surface and we don't fully understand until the monster is knocking at the back door.

Once that monster becomes real no one can understand how you feel, and no one has the right to tell you how you feel, or how you should deal, with being diagnosed with cancer.

It's really easy to become jaded at how people view your life after a cancer diagnosis. When a young child is diagnosed with cancer or a mom is diagnosed with breast cancer it breaks your heart. You pray for remission and for a miracle that doesn't always come. And sometimes you just get pissed off.

The last thing any parent or patient wants to hear is, "Oh, you're lucky it's only thyroid cancer." They don't realize that papillary thyroid cancer almost always comes back. And every time it does, it's more aggressive than the last time. They also don't realize that cancers in children are almost always more aggressive than the same cancer in an adult.

Cancer sucks no matter what kind it is and no one should discount the feelings and fear someone has regardless of the type! I'm sure any cancer patient would trade you any day, any time, anywhere.

So I guess I'm pissed..... That little monster has reared its ugly head again, much too close to home. I'm mad. I'm mad as hell. You have people wasting their lives everyday. Yet it seems like those that are trying to make a difference get this crap. I know cancer knows no age, no race, and no gender but sometimes I just simply do not understand.

This is a discussion I often have with the Big Man above on those long nights when I can't sleep. I see that my friends are in for the long-haul, just like Chey. They are going to fight and they are going to win and I will not discount for one second that even I, can understand what they are going through but I will say....

For my friends and family:

As the shadows lengthen across the road, the light blooms at that shadows end

When the clouds turn grey and fill the sky with gloom, please, look for the rainbow in the wake

When the nights grow long and cold, wrap yourself in the warmth of the love that surrounds you

When the music seems to lose it's beat, hear the melody whistling in the wind

When the mist is heavy in the valley, hold on to your faith and hope-as an umbrella for your soul and

When you feel at your lowest and despair, remember
I am there....

Next time, we will continue with "What's a bath?"

XXOO Make Everyday Count,

Bonnie

The Wait

I've been sharing our journey after our 17-year-old daughter was diagnosed with Papillary thyroid cancer. The cancer was discovered during an ER visit after an injury in a softball game. The ER doctor had told us there was a nodule on her thyroid that we should probably need to get looked at later, after she healed from the trauma. Well, for those of you that know me, that later--was first thing the next Monday morning!

We left off last time right after Dr. Sitton had looked at Cheyenne's vocal chords via a camera down Chey's nose.
****

Here we are, up to speed on Good Friday 2015 and we're sitting in a waiting room that has a beautiful glass wall, looking out watching people bustling here and there readying, I'm sure, more than one child for surgery. I remember I was sitting in a chair against the wall trying to take in every movement, every sound, every look my way that my child gave.

I kept rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth at a slow, steady pace telling myself, "Keep it together."

My biggest fear was something would go wrong and she wouldn't come back. I'm a nurse, have been for twenty plus years BUT this was my baby and even though Dr. Sitton had a very calming manner as did Dr. Wesson, it didn't help. I was petrified. I think most Mothers, Parents in general, feel the same way when their child is going in for any kind of procedure. I don't care if it's having their tooth pulled, fixing a broken bone or a major surgery like this - you are always scared that something is going to go wrong. It's part of our DNA. With everything you see on the news, it makes the fear that much more profound.

I watched my husband, just kind of stand in the corner with his arms crossed nodding his head when people said anything. He was chuckling when it seemed appropriate but not saying much of anything else. He was scared, probably more than I was.

While I was taking in every nuance of everything Cheyenne did and said, she seemed very animated. She was firing off sentences at breakneck speed and using elaborate gestures. She had told me she had complete trust in Dr. Wesson, Dr. Athanassaki and even Dr. Sitton. They were part of Texas Children's Hospital and they were the best in our whole state!

That animation gave her away, she was nervous and most likely scared to death too, but she didn't want anyone to know and she certainly wasn't going to make it real by verbalizing it! (We are just a little bit superstitious-okay a lot, I won't lie to you.). Even though she had to be scared, I believe God makes children so strong, so much more resilient than adults in his innate wisdom.

The time finally came and Cheyenne handed me her glasses. I had her bag of clothing and they put pneumatic compression devices on her legs to help with the circulation of her lower extremities. They are boots with air bags that inflate and deflate at different intervals to push the blood back out of her lower legs. Its purpose being that it helps keep the patients from getting blood clots.

She allowed us to give her a little hug, then she laid back and threaded her fingers behind her head like she was settling in for a long movie. Shortly they came and they rolled that precious child through that glass door and down the hall. All I could think of was "Alice Through the Looking Glass" and a shiver ran down my spine.

All she said was, "See you later mom."

We gathered everything back up and went down those long corridors and out to the lobby for the long wait.

It's all I could do not to bawl my eyes out. I saw Ed had to wipe his eyes once or twice, as well, but it helped having "Team Chey" in the lobby. Terri was out there working away on her crafting. Susan was there with her bag of goodies and we just chatted. It was really nice and it was very comforting. We appreciate them more than they will ever know! My stepbrother and his wife came to the hospital also, I had not seen them in years. It's amazing how some people never change, that's Bob and Deb! Exactly the same as the last day I saw them. Bob, is very reserved and Deb very outgoing, she loves people. Complete opposites that match perfectly!

We talked, we laughed and we waited. Then we snacked, we talked, we laughed and we waited.

TCH has a phone, by their little break room, at one end of the waiting room, that rings and they give you updates. Whoever is closest answers and calls the name of the lucky one getting a report. Every time that phone rings, everyone in that lobby sits up immediately and turns to look. It's really a bit spooky! You want to answer the phone, but at the same time you don't. You do eventually and then you call out the winner. We waited and waited and and waited before we finally got an update about three hours in. Dr. Wesson had been able to remove the right half of Cheyenne's thyroid, it had a large blood supply so it took a bit longer to remove. Grrrr. We were informed that everything was going well and they were going to start working on the other side.

Pretty soon, Susan had to go about her work. She was so kind, she even invited us to come to Easter Services at her church, which was a really amazing offer. We haven't been to church regularly since we got deep into the school grievance. It's really hard to go and sit in the House of God knowing that the people around you aren't honest. They wear one shirt inside the doors and another shirt outside. I know that church is a house for sinners but those leading it should try harder and be better examples!

After Susan left, the rest of the pack just chatted about old times and hopeful times to come. Terri worked on her crafting and I just watched the clock, it just moved so damn slowly. Finally, after five hours or so they were finished. (Thank you God!) Ed and I went into a tiny little room and talk to Dr. Wesson and Dr. Sitton. Dr. Wesson said he thought it had gone well and that the parathyroid were okay. (Thank you again, God!) He said they would be watching the calcium level very closely, however, just in case. He told us that he had taken the Delphian node (which would be the first lymph node that any cancer would travel to) as a precaution. He said typically papillary thyroid cancer doesn't metastasize until it's about the size of a walnut and Cheyenne's was only about the size of a grape. So that made us pretty happy! We thanked them and I hugged them both and soon we were able to go back to the recovery room to see Cheyenne.

Even being a nurse, I was a little shocked! Chey's face was a little puffy and she was so pale and of course she was still unconscious. The recovery room is one large room and there are several people in recovery. Their beds are all in the area and the nurses have small portable stands for their computers, I believe they're called "Cows." Anyway, as Chey began to rouse, she was very thick tongued from the anesthesia and it was hard to understand her. She didn't open her eyes but she would mumble and we finally figured out she wanted her red panda. We gave it to her and she just clung to it, it was really kind of sad and I nearly cried. It's hard to watch a 17-year-old revert back to being a little child. I just wanted to climb in that bed and hold her. I've told you many times we love Texas Children's Hospital and we really do but if we ever had a somewhat negative experience it was in the recovery room.

Now, I know I'm an LVN and not educated to the same degree as RN's, but generally we have a lot of hands-on experience. My expertise for the majority of my 20 years of nursing has been in the family practice department. I also have the expertise I've acquired as being a mother for 24 years! Cheyenne was still very out of it and I could tell she was semi-gagging, her lips would protrude and she would move forward and extend her chin and then she would kind of drool. I knew this meant she was having nausea and she was bound to vomit if we didn't take care of it. We had tried to discuss this concern with her nurse but she seemed more intent on watching what was going on with an infant behind us. As you know, I can be a little persistent, no not a little, I'm a lot persistent. That's what makes me a good nurse, persistence and observation. I was afraid, my daughter had just had a major surgery on her neck and the last thing she needed was to start vomiting. As I persisted the nurse told me I wasn't there as a nurse, I was there as a mom and to let her take care of the nursing. I thought my head was literally going to spin off! Instead of reacting, I busied myself by getting cool cloths, from another employee, to place on Chey's forehead and wiping the spittle from my daughters face. Soon after one of the doctors came in, I'm pretty sure it was Dr. Paul. (He's a hoot and I'll tell you more about him later) and Chey was a little more awake so the gagging was a little more profound and I believe he ordered something because the nurse gave Cheyenne some medication and miraculously the gagging stopped. Of course Cheyenne was a little groggier again but it was a fair trade off in my opinion.

I've talked to you all about the calcium problem and how they would be watching her. They monitor it through blood work but the doctors also have a neat little trick to come in and check before the lab work. The doctor will come in and tap the side of your face and watch for the nerve to twitch, that's one of the first signs of the calcium imbalance. (Dr. Paul did this) I never knew this before, it's so cool. I would check it sometimes myself in between doctor visits, lol. I'm funny that way, gotta double check--(take that Aaron Rogers)!! We stayed in recovery for well over an hour, waiting for a room, and then the entourage moved on upstairs.

Next time, "What's a bath?"

XXOO Make Everyday Count,

Bonnie

The Time Had Come

Well it's official. I've been putting off writing this post.

I received a bill in the mail from the doctor's office that performed Chey's fine needle aspiration on March 18, 2015. Well as you can imagine, I have a huge stack of bills and EOB's. I was questioning how, after meeting my deductible and my out-of-pocket early last year, could I be getting a bill with any balance. So, I called my insurance liaison to investigate. I had received the same bill a couple times before and it had been processed incorrectly by the insurance company and resubmitted. The last I knew it all had been taken care of. After a little investigation, I was told that they think this was a bill that was processed before I met my out-of-pocket. The funny thing is though, the bill shows it is the first of the cycle and the date they filed it to the insurance is March 2016! The payment that was received was in May 2016, so in my mind that didn't compute at all. I wish Spock was here!

So my usual self, who happens to be maybe a little off, decides to pull up all my bank statements and check the medical account to see if I paid this bill already. I also go through all those EOB's and bills. Now I understand that's the amount on the bill isn't very much, but it's the principle of the matter! The insurance is so screwed up it's unbelievable! I can't fathom how someone who is not in the medical field could ever comprehend anything any insurance company sends out. Actually, a lot of people in the medical field don't really have a clue either. I personally think people overpay all the time and most likely, don't know it. I don't think insurance companies or the doctor's offices are going to tell them any different. Where I'm going with this is, I couldn't even talk to my insurance representative without bawling. It brought up all that horrible fear and emotion, of that time again, and I just couldn't help myself, I just bawled and I bawled and I bawled.

Here I am, trying to put all of that day into words to try and share with people. I hope that it might help somebody else know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But I can tell you, it's really hard I mean gut wrenching hard. As a mama, I don't think it matters what age your child is when their diagnosed with a possible life-threatening illness, it just tears you apart.

My daughter was a teenager when she was diagnosed, she had seen and done many things. How do you make sense of these young children and infants that get diagnosed with these horrible diseases? I don't usually ask you for anything more than just a read and share of the post, but today I'm going to ask. There's a family, in the next town over, who’s little boy, three-year-old Luke Nelson, was diagnosed with neuroblastoma earlier this year. He's just in the last week undergone surgery to remove the tumor. Praise God they got it all! Anyway, I'd like to ask all of y'all for extra prayers for this sweet family. They have two little girls left at home while they're in New York State. They have a long road ahead of them with medical bills, separation from their little girls (one of which is starting kindergarten without mom or dad.) I just can't imagine how heartbreaking that has to be, so please say extra prayers for this family.

We had left off, last time, the day before surgery for my 17-year-old daughter to remove a cancerous tumor on her thyroid. The tumor had been found incidentally in an ER after a softball injury less than a month before. My sister had driven down, overnight, from Missouri and surprised us in the morning before. So, after all the testing and the doctor's visit, we headed back to the Ronald McDonald house. They had a really cool game room at the house. They had a pool table, air hockey table and video games. They had some old stand up arcade machines, Pac-Man and the wife and Galaga (my personal favorite.) That takes me back to the days of the old Twin Galaxies Arcade in Ottumwa Iowa. To those that know video games, Twin Galaxies is a place of Video Game Gods (and their scores!) You should Google it, it's really a pretty interesting story and it was a part of my youth. I wasn't that great at video games, not like Jerry Byrum, but there are a couple of them I loved to play. Galaga was one, as well as centipede. Anyway, we had a late dinner since Chey couldn't eat in the morning and then we all cratered. I really don't know how any of us ever went to sleep that night, I just kept praying over and over again, "Please God, let them get it all and don't let it be anywhere else."

Chey slept fitfully, tossing and turning all night long - this kid stays pretty stoic so you never know exactly how big her fear is. Once I fell asleep, it seemed like I only slept for a few seconds and it was time to get up and moving. Cheyenne packed a small bag with books and her stuffed red panda from the zoo. She grabbed her phone charger and some pajamas as we threw in a couple of movies since they have DVD players in the rooms. And with that it was time.

Ed, Terri and I quickly grabbed a light breakfast and then we went over to the hospital. Cheyenne and I busied ourselves with check-in while Ed wandered around and Terri set up in a corner with all her crafting. Texas Children's really keeps your check-in pretty simple. You go in, they verify your insurance and fron there since they've already checked to see how much you've met on your deductible and your out-of-pocket, you pay your remainder or you make a payment plan.

I've hit here and there on how our dilemma with the school district had affected this. On one hand, it was insane and it made us all stronger. On the other hand, it just complicated matters with the added stress. We met a wonderful lady, Susan Soto, through all that hell. She's our lawyer, an education specialist, who happens to be very good at her job and nice to boot. You hear all these things about rotten lawyers and in your lifetime you'll probably run across one (we did) but not this one, she really does care about her clients. She came to the hospital before Chey's surgery on Good Friday. She simply came to show support and let us know someone cared about this sweet child. There is no way, in this lifetime, to repay that kindness. Thanks Susan, you're the bomb! (Terri, you're pretty explosive too! Lol)

We visited for a short time before we were whisked back to prep for surgery. The ladies kept each other company for the duration. We followed the nurse through hallways as she led us deeper and deeper into the maze. I felt like the walls were closing in but Ed and Chey were just chatting away. How in the heck could they be so calm? My insides felt like worms were crawling around in there. We ended up in a room where Chey was given a bag and a gown and told to change clothes. After she had done so, we were shown into another room with a glass wall. The area resembled an ER with a centralized desk surrounded by rooms. I had French braided Chey's hair and she had worn glasses, instead of contacts, so she looked like she was all of maybe twelve. Chey made herself at home and climbed up on the stretcher and laid down.

She was watching everyone through the glass and she suddenly sat up and exclaimed, "Look Mom, that guy looks like Eddie Redmayne, from Les Mis!! He's so cute!"

I looked over and shrugged, "Maybe a little bit." (I'm more of a Sam Elliot gal myself.)

Later, when he came in and introduced himself as the anesthesiologist on the case, I thought Chey was going to pass out! We also had a visit from Dr. Wesson and he was ready for hugs! He prepared us for how the procedure would go, time expected etc. and he kidded around with Chey a bit before handing us off to Dr. Matthew Sitton, MD who would be assisting. Dr. Sitton is in the Otolaryngology (ear, nose and throat) department. Dr. Sitton is a very tall young man with a broad smile and infectious demeanor. He immediately puts you at ease with his calm manner. He explained that he would like to put a camera through Chey's nose and look at her vocal cords. He and Dr. Wesson had discussed the need since we had mentioned her singing.

Chey told him "Yes, sure," and he left to get the equipment.

It wasn't long until he and his entourage, (remember, THC is a teaching hospital) returned. There were at least eight of us packed in that 10 X 10 foot room! Dr. Sitton was holding a small container in his hand, it resembled a mix between an vintage oil can and a perfume atomizer. He explained he would use it to spray some numbing medicine in her nose and then he would feed a fiber optic camera in and look at the cords. He said we would all be able to see them on a monitor.

When Dr. Sitton sprayed the anesthetic in Cheyenne's nose, she shivered and said "It smells funny and that was an uncomfortable process."

We all laughed and she said "What?"

They went on with the procedure and thankfully, the vocal cords were fine! It was somehow calming to see so many people just doing what they do every day. That calm soon left though, the minute they rolled my child down that hallway towards an unknown future.

Next time, The Long Wait

XXOO Make Everyday Count

Bonnie

Time to Lock and Load

Hello again! We are back to sharing the details of our journey after our teenage daughter, Cheyenne, was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. As I tell people often, Chey was one of the lucky ones and they look at me like I'm nuts! (I am a little bit). How in the world could and would you say you are lucky after someone you love is diagnosed with cancer? Well, let me explain. In Chey's case, her tumor was on the backside of her thyroid and was not able to be felt by touch. She didn't have an obvious lump that could be seen. Most of the time, per thyca.org, pediatric and teenage papillary thyroid cancers are more advanced at the time of diagnosis than it is with adults with the same disease. The majority of children with papillary thyroid cancer have local spread to the lymph nodes of the neck at the time the thyroid cancer is diagnosed. About 10% to 20% of the children have distant metastases, most commonly to the lung, compared with only 5% of the adults with this disease. The site says that in the fifteen to nineteen age group, only 15.4 out of a million get this cancer each year. So in summary, by Chey having her softball accident and ending up in the ER, her cancer was found very early, before any obvious symptoms appeared – and thus she was one of the lucky ones. This is what keeps me going, the thought that, ‘We found it early so we can fight.’


We headed back to Houston, to Texas Children's Hospital on April 1st, 2015. We were staying at the Ronald McDonald -Holcombe House, this time, instead of the costly hotel, what a relief! Like many people, we have health insurance but you don't realize how much you have to pay out of pocket until you have a major health problem. First you have deductibles, which have to be met before the plan picks up anything. Then you have out of pocket to meet and many plans, like mine, have different levels of coverage - mine has four of them and Texas Children's is in my third level. You're already paying out the nose for the premiums then bam, you realize how it all really works and you start sweating. We were fortunate though, my daughters employer, Dublin Golden Chick, and my co-workers both organized fundraisers during this stressful time and alleviated much of that initial financial burden. Thanks CCMC (Jeanette) and David and Debra Connor for lessening that worry!


To stay at a Ronald McDonald House, you have to be referred by either a TMC Healthcare Provider or Social Worker before your first stay. They run a background check on everyone eighteen or over and once you pass, you are put on a request list. They have fifty rooms, each with 2 queen beds and a bathroom. Families with children 21 or under that are being treated in a Texas Medical Center member institution are eligible, you pay $25 a night and can stay up to 45 days each time. We checked in, paid our fee and were given instructions. Each family that stays is given a list of chores. This is what helps keep cost down. It is specific about how your room will be cleaned and your duties. We were assigned a trash detail and an area of the four-unit kitchen to clean. The kitchen reminded me of a home economics classroom in high school. The four stations each had two stove/oven units, a double sink and countertop. The two sidewalls shone with stainless steel from the refrigerator/freezer units. Each set was labeled with room numbers and yours to use for the stay. At the back of the room, a countertop stretched side to side. There were breakfast breads, toasters, cereal containers, rolls of tin foil and plastic wrap, spices, and dry staples lining the entire top. At the back of the right wall, there was a ceiling to floor cabinet full of cooking ware. It was all very used and brought tears to my eyes at the thought of how many families had traveled through these doors, used these pots and pans while not knowing if their child would survive their battle. Over time, I would learn that God gives parents a Teflon coating, just like the pans so we can just keep on cooking - day after day no matter how hot the fire was.


The next morning, we went over to the hospital for Chey's ultrasound. She and I went into the room and a female technician did the ultrasound, just like the first one she had. The tech didn't say much, she just did her job and soon we were done. The next stop would be Dr. Wesson, surgeon extraordinaire. Now I'm sure you remember that throughout this journey I had developed a serious relationship with my dear friend, Dr. Google. Earlier, we had put our heads together and researched surgeons. The majority of the literature we discovered stated that there was a better outcome when a high volume surgeon performed the surgery. On the TCH website, there was a wealth of information available. There are 80 full-time pediatric-focused pediatric surgeons on staff that perform more than 25,000 cases a year and we were about to meet the Chief of the Department of Surgery, another God thing in my opinion!


We were checked in and then led to a little room, not much different than that of Dr. Athanassaki's. There was a table, a couple chairs, a desk with a computer monitor on it and a stool. We waited patiently and I kept going over my numerous questions in my head. I also was wondering about Dr. Wesson's personality. Was he outgoing? Was he going to be so intellectual that we couldn't understand him? Would he be willing to give us an honest opinion of her prognosis? What if he was so aloof that we were uncomfortable? I was so nervous, (surgeons in general do this to me for some unknown reason) I felt like I could vomit. Then here he was. He is a small framed gentleman (don't shoot me Dr. Wesson) and reminded me somewhat of Don Knotts in 'The Ghost and Mr. Chicken", with just a little more fullness in his face (I love that movie btw.) Anyway, he was in a shirt and tie under a brilliantly white lab coat.

'Yay,' I thought. ‘He pays attention to the little details.'

We rose from our seats as he entered the room and he immediately extended his hand in greeting as he introduced himself. In my usual way, I grabbed him in a hug and I think shocked him a little bit but alas, no - he had been forewarned! He stepped back a little and placed his hand on his chest and then gestured for us to take a seat as he moved to his stool and did the same. He then informed us he had heard we were huggers. Lol, he had a twinkle in his eye and a sense of humor and the nausea receded, at least for now. After the introductions were taken care of, he went right into detailing the next day's schedule.

"Would you mind if I examined you?" He asked Cheyenne.

She smiled and said, "Not at all", as she climbed onto the exam table.

Dr. Wesson's hands fit his frame and he appeared to have a very light touch as he palpated Chey's neck. "I am unable to feel the nodule and I most likely wouldn't have on a routine exam either."

He asked about other symptoms and Chey said almost questioningly, "I have had some hoarseness for awhile, but everyone thought it was my allergies. I guess with what we know now, it could be from the nodule, maybe."

Dr. Wesson then sat back down and we discussed the possible parathyroid involvement and damage, like we had with Dr. A. He used a visual aid to show the anatomy and I got down on my knees and moved closer to his desk. Ed and Chey told me later that as I moved closer to him, he rolled back. Sorry, Dr Wesson!

"We will be monitoring you frequently for hypocalcemia (low calcium ) after surgery." He continued, "Sometimes one or more of the parathyroid glands can accidentally be removed with the thyroid gland or damaged. I will do my best to avoid them."

He went on to explain how delicate these little guys are and how important they are for your body. Low calcium levels can cause muscle cramps, tingling, numbness or burning to fingers, toes or face. They aid in your bodies ability to clot blood. They have a pretty important job! I informed him that Dr. Athanassaki prescribed a calcium supplement some time ago in preparation for this possible complication, he wasn't at all surprised. That was the exact reason we chose this facility, for the team approach. I was so relieved; everyone was doing their part in this huge undertaking to treat my child! He told us it would be a long surgery and not to worry about the time. He showed Chey how he would try and follow a natural crease in her neck, (not much in this lean child) to hide the scar.

Then a much more relaxed gentleman, whom I liked immensely by this point, rolled toward us and said "I will see you in the morning."

We left after the nurse gave us instructions for the following morning and headed back to the Ronald McDonald house for rest, reflection and time to gather our strength for tomorrow's battle.

Next time, #cheykickingcancersbutt

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie

Last Game Before Surgery

So, cleaning fish tanks or aquariums is not for the faint of heart. I can tell you that from my newfound personal knowledge. Recently, on the Fourth of July my husband, my office manager and myself spent six hours cleaning a dried-out, gross saltwater aquarium. It was utterly disgusting!

We had taken the salt-caked rocks out, soaked them over the weekend and then on Monday, we hand washed them-one by one. The smell was like stagnant water and I will admit it, I gagged once or twice. Once the rocks were clean, we left them to dry in the glorious sunshine and attacked the gravel and tank.

My husband, Ed, hooked up the hose, pulled it around to my office window and handed it in. Mylinda and I had poured some water on the insides of the glass while Ed was hooking up the hose, oh the stench! It was ten times worse than the rocks! This was dehydrated filth assaulting our senses. We donned industrial strength gloves and Mylinda started loosening the gunk that was stuck on the glass. While she was doing this, perched on a step stool, I climbed to my perch. We noticed that the small amount of water we had added to the tank had been absorbed by the dead greenery,(that suddenly didn't appear so dead) and I started picking it up gingerly and discarding it in the trash. It now felt kind of rubbery and even through the gloves, caused waves of nausea.

I think Mylinda held her composure much better than I did as I threatened the owner of the tanks life on more than one occasion. Mylinda kept me laughing throughout and helped us stay on task. Anyway, after we picked out as much slimy goo as we could, we filled the tank. We had purchased a large gravel vacuum at the local pet store and started sucking out the putrid water. Most of you know how a siphon works. You use a hose, place it in the container to be drained, apply suction and then place the other end of the hose in a receptacle well below the height. Normally, you suck on the tube to get the process started (yuck) but this vacuum had a hand pump, yay! After getting it started, I was managing the vacuum and Mylinda was scrubbing away. Ed would take the tube and move it from bucket to bucket and then empty them. We made it through the first tankful then disaster struck, Ed had gone to dump a bucket and the vacuum tubing came apart! That nasty water spilled on my carpet. I looked at Mylinda and we both cracked up. Water had spewed everywhere and it was going to smell so bad. I told her it would be okay, I would bring my steam cleaner in and fix it right up.

Ed came in, looked at the two of us, and just shook his head. The pump wouldn't work much after that and Ed had to use electrical tape to hold it all together and I, (much to Mylinda's disgust) had to go old school and suck on that tube to get it started. Yes it was gross, but the tube was clear so I was able to detach before the nastiness got to me! We filled and emptied the tank three times that day and felt the filtering system would do the rest. So, moral of the story is - don't let your aquarium dry up in the first place!

On our other front, I've been sharing our journey after our teenage daughter was diagnosed with Papillary Thyroid Cancer, inadvertently, after an injury playing softball. It was an absolute shock. Cheyenne was hurt on March 7, 2015 and was formally diagnosed on the 20th. Now it seemed like we were on a rollercoaster with no brakes.

Last time, we were heading into the Friday night softball game on the 27th. Earlier that day, I received a call from Dr. Athanassaki, Cheyenne's endocrinologist.

She asked how we were handling things and then said, "I wanted to let you know the tumor board met and we would like to schedule the surgery for Good Friday. Will that be okay?"

'Boy, they aren't playing around,' I thought. "Yes, my office manager said we would work around anything and school will be out for the holiday anyway. We said this had been a God thing and Good Friday fits right in."

She went on to tell me that they would also be scheduling Chey for another ultrasound before the surgery at the radiologist’s request. "Alright then," she said. "Alli will call you with all the details" and with that, we disconnected.

As usual, Alli called back promptly later that day, and gave us all the details for the upcoming appointment. We were to arrive in Houston on April 2 and we would meet Chey’s surgeon, Dr. David Wesson, have the ultrasound and then the following morning she was going to surgery. Oh my little heart was going pitter-patter, pitter-patter again. Chey had surgery before, on her foot, but this was a totally different ballgame and I was frightened. I started making a mental checklist of things to ask the surgeon, how long would it take? Would you be able to tell if it had metastasized? What happens if there was other disease in her neck? What about her vocal chords? I had to tell myself to stop, just write down the notes and ask the doctor when you see him. These were things Dr. Google couldn't tell me. I called my husband to inform him and we decided we would tell Cheyenne after the softball game that night.

After work, I met my husband and we hauled it to Eastland for Chey's last Friday night softball game. They were due to have another game the next Tuesday but when we got to the game Cheyenne informed us that game had been moved to a later date. So we had to tell her this was her last softball game.

"They've scheduled surgery haven't they?" She asked me.

I said "Yes, next Friday on Good Friday."

I could see the instant fear in her eyes as she quickly looked down to the ground, she took a deep breath and waddled back to the dugout. She was already in her catching gear, minus the helmet. I did what I always do, I got my books and went up to the announcers booth and got all the names of the other team and their lineup. I waited for Coach to give me ours. Then I sat down and tried to absorb every moment, every movement, every sound, every smell of this night. I watched Chey warm-up wondering how would she play knowing this was her last game, what would happen?

I told you earlier the girls had been struggling. At the last game they played hard and together and they lost by one run. It was tough, but they played well and we wanted to see if they could put two games together and they did. Chey had a pretty good game considering everything she'd had to deal with - an injury, a cancer diagnosis, an impending surgery and all the hell going on with the school in the grievance. She went two for five with two RBIs, one run scored and eight putouts. Not bad at all! We went into the bottom of the sixth tied up at four each. We got the first two outs but then after a couple good hits on their part, and three untimely errors on ours, they went up by four. We had our half of the inning to try and tie it up or better yet, win it!

We started the inning with a double to left, followed by a base on balls. Then Chey pushed their pitcher to six pitches and bombed one to deep left field. The left fielder was playing way back after the previous double over her head and made a great running catch for the out. Chey had already rounded first and was nearly to second. She slapped her hands together, knowing most of the time that would be at least an easy stand-up double. The next batter hit a blooper to the short stop and we were down to one out with two on base. All of us were on our feet cheering as KK came to bat. Now this kid had always had the potential to be an outstanding hitter and is an awesome first baseman, but sometimes she got into her own head. She was in that place none of the girls (or anyone else for that matter) wants to be in, down to the last out of the game. She worked the count to one ball and two strikes when BAM she hit a rocket to left field. There was no doubt she had gotten all of that ball and just like that, she had her one and only HOME RUN! We all were on our feet cheering like crazy people as her dad ran down the fence to grab that ball. The dugout emptied and the girls were standing off the third base line.

KK crossed that plate (I was already bawling at this point) and she turned and ran straight at my little girl, hugged her neck and said, "That was for you Chey."

They were both bawling and my heart just melted. What a class act. Chey actually carried a bruise on her cheek for several days after that, Kay's facemask had popped her during the hugging but Chey was very proud of it. She talks about that one moment fairly often, it's probably the kindest thing anyone had done for her in a long time. Thanks KK, I'll never forget it either!

The girls ended up losing by one, but they had finally gotten it together and ended up making the district playoffs. Chey didn't get to play in any more games but I don't think there were any regrets.

Next time, Surgeon Extraordinaire.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie

Cancer Sucks

I'm not a good Christian. I have a real problem trusting and forgiving, but I work on those issues every day. I say bad words sometimes and I think really bad things about people sometimes as well. Then again I work on those things every single day too. I see those people that profess to be such good Christians and then I see them in action and those actions are anything but Christian-based. I have to work really hard on not judging. I guess what I'm getting at is nobody makes me do these things, it’s up to me to change them. Life is about attitudes, and the only attitude that really matters is your own and getting that attitude in the right place. Then maybe, just maybe, you are able to show others by your own example that their attitude is what makes them happy or makes them miserable. With that we will continue our Journey.

Earlier in the day on March 20, 2015 I received a call from Cheyenne's endocrinologist, Dr. Athanassaki, and she had confirmed that this beautiful young woman had papillary thyroid cancer at the tender age of seventeen. We were lucky that we found it, period. Cheyenne had been injured in a softball game a couple weeks prior while sliding back into second base. She hyper extended her neck, which led to an ER visit and inadvertently showed a nodule on her thyroid. This Discovery would change our lives forever. I had been hoping for a diversion for the evening, something that would take time and thought so I could put off the inevitable - telling my child she positively had cancer.

Usually, on a Friday night, we would be going to a high school softball game to watch Chey tear it up but it was Spring Break - my dumb luck! I went home and had nothing else to do but spill it all. I told Chey and her father everything Dr. A had said. I really thought that Cheyenne would crack. To be honest, I was scared to death that this would finally be the thing that would push her, completely and forever, over the edge.

Instead she sat there for a minute and simply said, "I told you."

And with that, she stood up and excused herself to take a shower but first she turned and asked, "What's for supper?"

I was flabbergasted, flat out. She was far stronger than anyone I had ever known. Again, thanks Dublin ISD, you gave her that metal jacket! The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful, we tried to have the house and our belongings ready in case we would be traveling soon. Monday came and went, and Tuesday we were finally back on a softball field. The season had been plagued with an enormous amount of rain, so the home game against Breckenridge was swapped and we traveled. The girls had been on a horrible streak and had been outscored 63-4 since the beginning of the month. We felt terrible for them and Chey felt guilty for not being on the field contributing.

That night Chey played with complete abandon and the team was as one. They ended up losing 11-10 but they played one heck of a game! Chey was very emotional, so much so that after the game she told us how after reaching second on a double the tears just started to flow.

"The umpire and the players were asking if I was okay. I told them yes, just get away," She let on as it had finally hit her.

The realization that this could very well be her last time on a field and how much she would miss this game had just hit her like a ton of bricks. (Thank goodness I didn't know that at the time or I would have totally lost it.) As it played out, she would get one more game in the following Friday.

It blew my mind though, that not many of the parents even asked about Chey's diagnosis. I can't imagine not asking what I could do for another family in the same situation, so I try and believe that maybe, just maybe they didn't know what to say. It bothered me then, and it bothers me now - Lord knows I'm still working on that one too! People that we had known since kindergarten didn't seem concerned about a child, yet her employer of less than a year was organizing a fundraiser to support her. How messed up is that? But even with all of that, what bothered me more than anything was wondering about how Chey dealt with it. If it bothered me, how did she, a seventeen year old girl, go through every day acting like it was normal for people to behave in that manner? As a nurse, I know it had to affect her both physically and emotionally, and as a mother that just crushed me. The only answer was, as I said before, she's a strong kid. Oh well, maybe it would be different on Friday night, and tonight I pray.


Next time, Last Game.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie.

The Call That Defined Time

My commute to work is usually a time for reflection, making plans and dictating this blog. I have the basic Sirus XM radio in my car and just like when I watch television, I surf channels. Things do not hold my attention very long. I have 70s on 7, The Blend, On Broadway, Love, 60s on 6, The Highway, Symphony, Classic Rock, Prime Country, The Bridge and Radio Classics preprogrammed. I flip back and forth through them all, most days, and others just depends on my mood. Yesterday, on my way to work, my favorite song came on. You can ask my husband and he won't know it. He will know my favorite movie but probably not my favorite song. Now, if you ask Chey, she'll tell you Don McLean American Pie. I've loved that song since I was a little girl and when I hear it now, as an adult, it brings back so many memories. I remember having my hair brushed by my older sister while singing this song, as well as, Seasons in the Sun, Take Me Home Country Roads and many others. I flash forward a few years and I'm in a car on my way to high school singing this same song with Tommi, a girlfriend from school, and I hear the skating rink and smell the smells of that wonderful place and time stands still briefly. There is popcorn, cotton candy and dirty socks. I remember Tuesday night was wheat penny night. Really, your entrance fee was a single wheat penny. I wonder what the Staton's did with all those pennies?

Anyway driving to work yesterday when my favorite song came on, instead of singing, I just started bawling. Sometimes this happens too, no rhyme no reason just hits me out of the blue. I don't know if it's sorrow of how things could have been or how things are? Sometimes it means I'm coming down with something or just plain tired. Haven't decided which it was yet.

When we last left off in our story, Chey and I were headed to tuck in for the night before the long drive home from Houston. We had met Chey's endocrinologist after some testing in the morning. Cheyenne was injured in a softball game eleven days before, and a nodule had been found on her thyroid by CT scan. To date, she's had ultrasound, nuclear uptake scan, fine needle aspiration, labwork and numerous physical exams-all in eleven days! That's a lot to wrap your mind around, especially for a seventeen year old. We had spent the afternoon unwinding at the zoo after learning Chey, most likely, would be diagnosed with cancer.

The drive back to Dublin is about five hours, give or take, and sometimes it's grueling. I was dreading it this time. I was thinking, 'Where is Chey mentally today?' My child keeps things very close to the vest, generally. Over the last couple years of dealing with a grievance against her high school, that vest has become a metal jacket. She's really hard to read but I can usually tell by her actions and requests. So far today, she hadn't shown me anything. I was worried and tired, she had talked most of the night, in her sleep which made me wary. We loaded up and headed out, soon I found out where she was. 

"Momma," (there it was) "how bout we have a Disney Marathon on the way home?" She was looking at me, grinning ear to ear while clinging to her stuffed red panda she'd gotten at the zoo. 

I furrowed my brows thinking, 'Five hours of Disney songs, crap' but told her "Sure, no prob!"

So the marathon began. We are all proud of our children, or we should be, and I'm no different than the next parent. Well okay, maybe a little different but I am proud and blessed by my kids. Now Cheyenne has a God given gift, she has a beautiful singing voice, speaking isn't too bad either. Even though she had needles probing her thyroid the day before, she just started belting the tunes. It wasn't long until I had joined in. We had to be a sight, not unusual for us as you've discovered , driving down the highway singing songs from Disney movies. I have to admit, it made for a pretty good time burner and secured that my child was still sane and dealing with her emotions. We stopped along the way, yup you guessed it, so Chey could read some historical markers and in some little bitty towns to stretch the legs before finally making it home.

Friday, May 20th started like most others. Chey went to school, it was her senior year, and I went to work. I talked with my office manager, Jeanette, and filled her in on all we had learned. She just sat and listened while I rambled, only giving words of encouragement along the way. She is a really good listener, Thanks J. I went on about my day and heard an overhead page. 

 I expected the call to be work related and was caught off guard when I heard that Greek accent. "Hello Mrs. Holt, it's Dr. Athanassaki."

"Oh hi, Dr. A. I didn't think we'd hear from you so soon," I told her, with my heart suddenly racing. In fact, to be honest, I had expected to hear from Alli, not the doctor!

Dr. A. continued, "We got Cheyenne's pathology report back and, it was as we expected. She has papillary thyroid cancer." (It still really does amaze me how she can make those words seem pretty when she says them in her accent.)

My stomach jumped into my throat and I asked her to hold on for a second. Yes, I put the doctor on hold. Then I ran to Jeanette's office. I closed the door, bent over and put my hands on my knees and choked out that my child, my baby girl, had cancer. 

 I sobbed for a short time, pulled it together and went back to the phone. "Sorry about that Dr. A., I've got it back together so please continue," I said.

I grabbed a pen and a sticky pad to write on because those damn bees were buzzing around in my head. Dr A. told me that the tumor board would meet the next Wednesday, as she had explained in the office. She said she would have Alli get all the appointments set up and let us know as soon as the decisions were made. 

"So, she will definitely have surgery?" I asked.

"That is my recommendation, to have complete removal of the thyroid. We don't usually see any metastatic disease until after the thyroglobulin level is greater than 100, (Chey's was 76) so I don't expect anything more invasive. We will look at all the information and call soon." 

That was pretty much it, and then she said it would be okay and hung up.

I sat at my desk for a minute before going back to Jeanette's office crying, sobbing actually. I thought I would be okay when they confirmed it, but you just can't imagine how horrifying and final those words are until you really hear them. All the hopes and dreams you've had for your child just seem to disintegrate and you can't think of anything past taking the next breath. Jeanette hugged me and kept saying how sorry she was and then said that it sounded like we were in good hands. She was always able to see the good side.

I can't remember much more about the rest of that workday, it's all kind of blurry. I do remember trying to figure out how I was going to tell Cheyenne and the family. I sure was wishing this was a Friday softball night instead of Spring Break...

Next time; Strong Kid.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,

Bonnie

Detour: Cancer and the Zoo

Nearly everyday, Facebook shows me my memories. Most of the time they're pretty neat, they make me laugh or make me thankful that we are where we are. Others though, totally tick me off, period. All those feelings of seeing my child abandoned by her so-called friends and being targeted by adults come boiling up again and I just get furious. I look at how decisions were rendered to adults and then not complied with. How a child that didn't know if the didn’t evene know if her future held life or death, became even more of a target and my blood boils, I mean really boils. I think of vengeance and then God waves his magic wand and in the room flows that angel.

She smiles and hugs me and says, "I love you Mom, isn't it a beautiful day?" The anger just vanishes, she's right, it is beautiful because she's here and I smile.

Over the last several weeks, you've been learning about our journey after Cheyenne was hurt in a softball game and a nodule was found on her thyroid. We had just left the doctor's office after meeting Dr. Athanassaki (Dr. A) and her staff for the first time. Chey had also undergone an FNA (fine needle aspiration) earlier that morning. Dr. A had informed us it would be a few days until the results would be available. Ugh. The two of us walked hand in hand out of the office and across the lobby to one of the many lab draw areas in the hospital. While Chey was in getting her blood drawn, I called her father and explained all the details. He didn't have much to say. I mean really, what is there to say when you are told your child most likely has cancer? He did ask how I thought the result would be though and I told him that I agreed one-hundred percent with Chey, it's cancer. We hung up and I remember standing there waiting for Chey to return asking God, ‘What the hell? She is going through all this crap with the school district, (that's going to be book fodder one of these days) why are you doing this? Hasn't she been through enough? What is she, or we, supposed to be learning?’ Then it dawned on me, I guess that is what people call an epiphany, I thought, ‘Maybe she has gone through all this hell with that damn school to prepare her for the real battle, Cancer.’ Maybe, He had been preparing us all along, making our skins thicker in order to fight this animal.

Chey finished in the lab and walked out. We interlocked arms and started toward the elevators.

"Momma, let's go to the zoo. We need a pick me up. I probably have cancer and might not get a chance to go later," she said as my voice just stuck in my throat.

I couldn't say anything. She was so nonchalant and didn't seem fazed, at all about the words she had just uttered.

I handed her my purse and said, "Man, I gotta go, hold this."

Then I bolted. I got to the bathroom and the sobs just exploded. I was so glad there wasn't anyone in there, not that it would have changed my outburst, and I kicked the door. Then I ran to the toilet and vomited. Hot and violent, then I told myself, ‘Stop, she's out there, get it together!’ So with my insides rolling, I splashed my face with cold water and rinsed my mouth, dried off and hauled by butt out to my child. If she could tell I was upset, she didn't show it.

She simply handed me back my bag, tipped her head and said, "Zoo?"

Well, as usual, you guessed it. We headed off to the zoo. Houston is really not a hard city to navigate, outside the medical complex that is, and the zoo was easy to find. Parking, not so much, which seems to be my bane.

We drove around and around, I looked over at Chey, "Everyone must be at the dang zoo today, you sure you want to go?"

She just opened those baby blues wide and said, "Please?"

So, of course, I drove around for another fifteen minutes then Chey had an epiphany of her own. "Mom, people are coming out, let's stalk someone," she said in typical Chey fashion.

She's such a funny kid I thought before adding, "Great idea!"

So we idled and then two women with a couple kids came out. We slowly followed them, row after row.

Chey started giggling when they started looking back at us and I said smartly, "Crap, it's not funny, we are in Houston and they're probably going to shoot our butts."

She just giggled harder and slid down in the seat. As is my way, I pulled up to them, rolled down my window and told them we'd been driving around for nearly an hour.

"Please tell me you are leaving and we can have your spot," I said and they promptly just looked at me and kept walking as the lady reached into her purse.

Chey screeched through clenched teeth, "You're right, they're gonna shoot us Mom, roll up the window and drive!"

Then, the lady pulled keys out and just kind of pointed, with an extremely long nailed finger, to a Cadillac.

I yelled Thank you to them and turned to my now upright daughter, "Yay, Chey. We get a spot!" We waited while they loaded up and then we parked, moved our essentials over to a string backpack and headed towards the gate.

I was, and am still, amazed at how resilient God makes kids. We both knew, deep in our bones, that this beautiful young woman was about to fight the biggest battle of her life. Yet, here we were, giggling like two school girls as if nothing was out of the ordinary. We spent a fantastic afternoon wandering through the grounds. Chey enjoyed herself as much as she had the first time we went to a zoo. She climbed in and out of exhibits, read all the place cards and involved the younger kids that were around her. I watched her, soaking in every single moment. Absorbing how she moved, how she felt when I touched her hand. I imprinted it all to my memory, how the light shown on her hair and the way the youngster ‘ooh'd’ when she shared some magical knowledge with them. I spent the whole time just being amazed by her, period.

The stress of the day finally began to take its toll and when the light rain began to fall, she wrapped her arm around me and leaned her head on my shoulder as she hugged her stuffed red panda and said, "I'm done Momma. Thank you, it was great."

And with that, we headed back to the hotel to rest before the long road home tomorrow.

Next time, The Call...

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie.

Hugs All Around

Do you ever have days where you feel like you could stay in the shower until the lake runs dry? Today was that day for me. My alarm went off and I hit the snooze button, which I very rarely do. It feels like I didn't even sleep 10 minutes. I laid there for about 10 seconds and it dawned on me ‘You have to get up, you have to go to work Dummy.’ So I bolted up and gathered my clothes for the day before jumping in the shower. Usually I'm in and out, it doesn't take me very long to shower, but today I just wanted to stand under the water and let it run. I started thinking about this blog post, today's the day you all get to meet Dr. Athanassaki and Alli.

We were at Texas Children's Hospital in Houston meeting Cheyenne's endocrinologist for the first time. We were here because doctors had found a nodule on Cheyenne's thyroid after a softball injury to her neck and the subsequent testing required due diligence and a full work up. Earlier in the morning Cheyenne had undergone a fine needle aspiration, she had cells removed from her thyroid to be read by the pathologist. Now we were heading for the Clinical Care Center, floor 11.

On the way there, we ran into a huge cow standing in the lobby of the elevator and stood in amazement. "Wow, that's so cool," Chey exclaimed!

I had to agree, it resembled a Cow Parade collectible -only it was life size! It was beautiful, so colorful and it just made you smile which was welcome in the face of what my daughter would soon be going through.

We loaded into an elevator with a number of other people. There were people everywhere, doctors, nurses, patients; it was unreal compared to our little country hospital for sure! We finally arrived at our destination and neither of us seemed to want to get off the elevator. I could see the trepidation on my child's face and my own heart was pounding. I reached down and took her hand in mine and out we marched.

Each area at this hospital has a sign on a stand giving you instructions to wait at a certain point several feet from the reception desk until you are called. (It's like waiting to be seated in a restaurant.) Yes, HIPPA that's exactly the reason behind it. We stood in line quietly waiting our turn and we both took in the scene before us. The waiting area was enormous and it very kid friendly. The area behind the receptionist was like a tree house that the kids could climb on. There were display cases with models of ships, bead mazes, books and movies playing on TV screens. These people obviously were all about the kids, that was for certain!

One of the receptionists called us forward and I realized Chey was still holding onto my hand, or I was, either way we walked hand in hand up to her desk and went through the process of signing in. After the paperwork was completed and I had my insurance card in hand, (I have a bad habit of leaving my belongings all over creation) we were directed to take a seat and wait for the nurse to call us back. We sat side-by-side and Chey commented on the children in the lobby. Many were being transported in wagons and several in strollers. There was a little girl that appeared to be maybe two. She had a tube in her nose and an IV with one little tuft of hair sticking up on the side of her head - she was absolutely beautiful. Cheyenne watched her for a bit and then excused herself to go to the restroom. When she came back, her eyes were red rimmed and I knew she had slipped off to cry for this sweet child. She sat down next to me and laid her head on my shoulder and whispered, "I love you Momma." God had to be sitting there with us because I was able to just pat her leg and hold back my own tears that were attempting to flow. Luckily, that was when we were called to the back.

Like most offices, we were taken into a room for Cheyenne's vital signs, weight and height to be taken before we were moved to an exam room. The room was average with an exam table, a couple of chairs and a computer on a desk. There were also educational posters on the wall showing the anatomy of the thyroid and endocrine system. We waited a very short time and a young woman entered and introduced herself as a doctor doing a fellowship. I think her name was Amy and she explained that she was going to be a fertility specialist (reproductive endocrinologist) and was doing a rotation here. She explained that she would take Chey's history and then Dr. Athanassaki would be in after. She did so, left and shortly she returned with Dr. Ioanna Athanassaki MD (Dr. A) who introduced herself and shook our hands. Dr. A is Greek. She has a very light voice with a very pleasant accent that is also light. She is a small woman with an affectionate smile and dancing eyes. You just can't help but like her immediately. She sat down on her stool and began to review what she had been told by her understudy, when there was a soft knock at the door and a smiling young woman with dark hair walked in with a chart in her arms. She immediately apologized for being delayed and started to introduce herself. There was no need, from her first word I recognized this was Alli and I practically jumped out of my seat in my haste to hug her. I had warned her previously that we are huggy people so she wasn't completely taken back. I croaked out her name and the tears started at this point with smiles at the same time. I actually think this exchange made us all much more comfortable and we just sat down and talked.

Dr. A informed us that she was aware we had more knowledge than most of her new patients.

She said, "We don't usually recommend our patients visit the Internet, but your situation is a little more unique."

Obviously, Alli had told her about my friend Dr. Google but it was alright.

She went on, "In your case, it makes it easier because you both have a good understanding of the possibilities so we don't have to necessarily spend time on those explanations ."

I told her we tell our patients the same thing, "Don't talk to Dr. Google" but it's just not in my DNA. They all laughed and she asked how the procedure went earlier.

Cheyenne spoke up and said, "I have it, they didn't make extra passes they didn't need to because they had enough cells to tell."

For about half a heartbeat I was afraid how they would react but Dr. A simply leaned in toward my child and said, "It is very indicative of Papillary Thyroid Cancer (PTC), yes, but we really have to wait until the pathology report is given. Right now I would like to examine you if that's alright."

Cheyenne said "Of course, sure."

She stood up and moved to the exam table, stepped up and sat down. Dr. Athanassaki donned gloves and told Chey that she would be gentle. She tried to feel the nodule but couldn't, she said Chey had been very lucky to have had the accident and that they call this an "incidentaloma." She said it is when a tumor is found by coincidence and with out symptoms. When Dr. A finished the exam, she motioned Chey back to her seat and sat down herself.

"Well, as it does appear to be PTC, let us discuss what would happen next," she sais as she rolled her stool closer and leaned over toward us. "We have a group of doctors that meet on Wednesdays to discuss the cases. There are surgeons, ENT's, oncologists, endocrinologists and radiologists present. We will go over the results of the fine needle aspiration, as well as all the other data. Then we decide what the best course is. Usually with papillary thyroid cancer (she can really roll that off her tongue by the way) the recommendation is to remove the entire thyroid."

I interjected, "But, we have to be careful about the parathyroids right?" (The parathyroid glands control calcium levels in our bodies. They are situated behind the thyroid gland and can be damaged during surgery.)

She sat straight up, put her hands on her knees and smiled broadly, "Yes we do, you really have done your research."
Chey said, "She doesn't know any other way, that's how she deals with things." I guess my daughter knows me pretty well too.

Dr. A continued speaking to Cheyenne, "We will do more lab work and possibly another ultrasound before setting you up an appointment with surgery. Right now, we will wait and see."

She asked if we had any other questions and Chey only said, "How long for the result?"

Dr. A answered and said, "Hopefully very soon."

We all gave hugs all around, to multiple giggles. We thanked them over and over again before they asked us to hold on and Alli would get us notes for school and work.

We sat down and Chey said, "I really like her, she knows what she is doing and I feel safe."

I agreed and shortly Alli reappeared, all smiles, she gave us notes and directed us to the lab. "Dr. Athanassaki decided to go ahead and get these done today. Don't worry and we will be in touch soon."

She wrapped us in a group hug and led us out into the hall. The fear was still there but now it was veiled by the feeling of hope, glorious hope. We both walked out of that office like we were wearing wings, it was such an uplifting feeling and I knew we were in the right place.

Quick note before I leave you, with summer around the corner posts will likely start coming out every other week! Enjoy the sun and thanks for reading!

Next time: Test Results

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie

Here You Go Paula

As I'm driving to work today the sky is cloudy and overcast. I, as well as many others are just trying to get through the workday. Get there, get it done, get home. I watched Chey drive off this morning and with only one-week left of school, she's going to have her freshman year of college under her belt. She was a little feisty this morning, too much going on, too little time and I know she's tired but she'll gut it out like she does everything else. That's the attitude that got her through our first day at Texas Children's Hospita over a year ago. We had ended up there after an inadvertent discovery of a nodule on my teenage daughters thyroid eleven days earlier. Cheyenne had been injured in a softball game and a CT in the ER started the dominoes falling into place. We had driven down the night before, it's about a five hour trip.

We got up the next morning and had a light breakfast before heading to the hospital early. I'm not the best on directions and my little Tom-Tom is a lifesaver but sometimes even Tom-Tom can't get me where I need to go. That's not necessarily Tom-Tom's fault, sometimes I can't figure out where left is because there aren't good enough signs on top of there being too many distractions. Anyway, after several trips around the complex we finally found our parking garage and guess what? It was underground. Well, let's just say I started off the day embarrassing the fire out of my child. When you turn and go into this parking garage there's a lane in and a lane out and they are both really small! Once you navigate in, the in lane splits into two lanes and there are these little boxes on posts on the left in each. I could see the people ahead of me doing something but I was not sure what they were doing. I was praying it was going to be like the ones in the metroplex that print a little card out but nope, not so lucky. I pulled up into my spot and I couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do. It was so damn frustrating, all these people lined up behind me and no card. There was a slot like I should put money in it and a blinking green light but no instructions. What the heck? Cheyenne was in the passenger seat, already stressed out and of course, I look over and she's sliding down further and further and further in the seat so I do the only sensible thing.

I get out of the car and with my arms up I start asking the people behind me, "What do you do?"

By this time, Chey was just writhing in her seat "Mom, Mom, get back in the car!"

Luckily, the nice lady behind me motioned that you just push the button. I did and ta-da, a little yellow chip came out. You hold onto the chip until you leave and that's how you get charged for your time parking. So once we parked, and Chey climbed out of the floorboard, we looked at each other and just busted out laughing, we just rolled! Here we are, small-town America in the big city and can't operate a parking box, thing. I don't know what to call it, kiosk, I guess? It was a riot.

We eventually gathered ourselves up, got the instructions Alli had sent and headed in. We, okay I, was worried about finding our way back so while we were walking, I was taking pictures of our elevator, our parking area, the building... while trying to figure out where we were going. Once again, Chey was like "OMG Mom," and shaking her head. You’d think she would be used to this by now.

Texas Children's Hospital in Houston is like many other hospitals, being made up of multiple buildings that are connected by enclosed walkways. We had parked under the Clinical Care Center and were due in the Interventional Radiology Department, in the West Tower, for Chey's FNA, (fine needle aspiration) at 0800. The hospital was very overwhelming the first time we were there but they color-code everything and there are plenty of information desks, which helped immensely. We arrived at our destination and checked in and shortly we were escorted into a room. It was kind of like an ER bay, several rooms separated by curtains. A nurse came in and took Chey's vital signs and a medical history. She was very nice and put us both at ease (Pretty much the norm there.) She explained how the procedure would go and allowed Chey to ask questions. Chey only asked about the needles used for the biopsy. The nurse told her they would use a really small needle to extract the cells from her thyroid and then place them on a slide for the pathologist to look at. She said that one pass is usually three specimens.

Chey's face lost some color then and the nurse immediately added. "They will use numbing medicine so you won't feel much, and don't worry if they take several passes, that means they aren't finding much so they are checking more areas."

She handed Chey a gown to change into and a bag for me to carry her clothes in before leaving the room.. Soon there after, the doctor came in. He was so young! He was really tall and skinny and he had braces! I was thinking, "You've got to be kidding, I've got uniforms older than this kid." Then he started talking and I knew - Doogie Howser M.D! He was very knowledgeable and very personable. He was from India and Chey would just love him. He went over everything the nurse had said, had me sign consent forms and then we headed down the hall.

It was like a maze as we twisted and turned down back halls until we came to a little waiting area, for me. I sat down and watched as my daughter left for the most important test of her life. The hall was like a refrigerator and I was shivering. I had brought a book to read but I couldn't seem to get past the first paragraph. I tried but all I could do was keep looking at my watch and the door that had consumed my child. I remember praying over and over, "Please, let him take lots of passes." It seemed like an eternity that she was gone and sitting alone in that little, deserted area made it longer. In reality though, she was gone well less than an hour. I had leaned my head back and pulled my arms inside my shirt when I heard their voices, laughing.

They walked down the hall toward me and the doctor smiled and said, "She is really brave and she's funny too."

All Cheyenne said was "I've got it, I know it because he only did one pass plus one." The doctor, as they are trained to do, told her she needed to wait on the pathology results and led us back to the original room so Chey could change.

She told me quietly, "Momma, he did the first pass with three samples and the pathology lady was right over from us in a little room. The girl in there with us carried the slide into her and then came back and said she only wanted one more straw. I HAVE to have it, the other nurse said it was better if they took more."

What do you say to that? The room that had been so cold suddenly became like a sauna and my mind was whirling again. I was thinking the exact same thing but I told her we would just wait to see the doctor at 1100. Chey seemed very matter of fact about it and after she dressed and we cleaned the residual betadine from her neck, we left and she told me what had transpired in that room.

She was really kind of giddy and her eyes were huge and glassy. I think she was scared to death and talking was her way of working through it. She described how the room was like any other X-ray bay and they had asked her to lay on the table. She said they positioned her just like for her other ultrasound, on her back with a roll under her neck to hyperextend it and then they cleaned it with "that orange stuff that burns a little" and numbed it. She said he described the procedure to her again while they waited for the numbing and then while using the ultrasound as a guide, he took the samples and then the tech carried them to the pathologist. She said they waited for the pathologist to look at the slides.

Then she started giggling and said, "He asked what I wanted to do in college. I told him Ag/Comm. He had no clue! The guy in there with us was in FFA too and we tried explaining about showing animals and such. He couldn't believe I walked pigs!"

She said they talked about his home too. The pathologist was in a room adjacent to theirs and it only took about fifteen minutes for the decision and then the doctor told her, "We only need one more straw." He took the sample, cleaned her up and that was it.

We spent the next hour walking around the hospital just taking in all the sites, it's like several mini museums spread throughout to take your mind off of where you really are, I think. Soon enough however it was time as we moseyed on over to the Clinical Care Center towards Chey's destiny, Dr. A and Allie....

Next time; Hugs all Around.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie

Houston or Bust

After my discussion with Alli, the intake Coordinator for Texas Children's Hospital's Thyroid Tumor Program, I said I was able to sleep without terror but that doesn't mean sleeping without fear. It also doesn't mean I didn't have fear every waking moment.

I had been doing enormous amounts of research since being informed of a nodule on my daughter’s thyroid by an ER physician after a softball accident and ensuing CT scan. The information was unending and somewhat unnerving even for me, a 20 year-plus nurse. Through the research, and my intuition, I knew we needed to do further testing and we did. Cheyenne had an ultrasound, a thyroid uptake scan and lab work. Ultimately, we learned the nodule had the potential to be very serious, it had a blood supply, was solid and had "micro-calcifications." So, yes I was scared to death for my child.

We've talked about the diagnostic exams, but not much about the lab work. Chey's family doctor is an internist and initially he ordered labs to check the thyroid. He also ordered an antibody test that could show if cancer cells were present. I had forgotten about the tests until Alli called Friday (the 13th go figure) and asked if we could get them drawn in Comanche. She was quite surprised to learn that they had already been drawn. I promised to fax them immediately. Well, of course, this had to mean the labs were significant and Momma Bear came roaring back and pounced. The regular thyroid panel was normal but the antithyroglobulin antibody test showed a "low positive." Crap, normal is negative (no number) and she had one, low but it was there. I talked to our doctor and he said it was really low and to wait until we consulted with Dr. Athanassaki as well as the results of the other portion of the test.

So, here we go nail biting, sick stomach time again! We waited all through the weekend and finally on Tuesday we got the thyroglobulin (ICMA) result. It was 76. All I could think was Damn, Damn, Damn. Another piece falling into place against us, we couldn't get a break. I didn't tell my husband or Cheyenne this result but I spent time talking with my office manager. She was very supportive and allowed the mom in me to bawl like a baby before settling me down and telling me to wait and not jump to conclusions, no matter how bad the picture seemed. I swear, I was like Jekyll and Hyde those days, but she helped me keep my sanity. Thanks Jeanette, it meant the world!

All this time Chey was on Spring Break so she wasn't missing school but she was missing her beloved softball and that was so gut wrenching to watch. On one hand it was good for her to rest, but I wish the kids would have visited, this would become the norm though in the long run. I think it would have helped her deal with the emotional battle more effectively. She would cry out in her sleep mumbling about cancer and statistics nearly every night, way too much baggage for a seventeen-year-old kid to handle! In the waking hours though, you'd never know and I, to this day, don't think she had any recollection each morning.

I took off work early on Tuesday so Chey and I could take the drive leisurely. She has a thing about historical markers, so we stopped many times for her to read. It was calming for her and sometimes during the drive, I would get glimpses of the Chey before the "C" word. She was laughing and playing all the Disney songs on her playlist while we sang and acted out parts to each one. We had to be a site, if anybody was looking that is. We pulled into Houston in the early evening, checked into the hotel (thanks Jodi) and had a light dinner. Chey's defenses kicked in and she became very solemn and begged for an early night. Even though there were two beds, she snuggled right in with me and that was fine by me!

Next time; The Incredible Dr.A and Alli Too.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie

The Search Is On

It's really uncanny how fast a week flies by! Actually it is uncanny how fast time in general flies by. This week has been a total whirlwind as Cheyenne has been preparing for cheer tryouts and formal, all while attending college full time. Whew, I'm worn out watching her but so blessed she's able to do it.

Let me bring you up to date in our story. I left off telling you about beginning the process of finding a specialist for my teenage daughter after we found a nodule on her thyroid that we believed was cancerous. I went to work on Thursday March 12th, only five days since the accident that led us to the hospital in the first place, and discussed our options with our family doctor. He suggested that we see an ENT (ear nose and throat doctor) that he knew in Abilene. From what I had learned in my research, I told him that we really felt the way to go was the team approach.

In his usual fashion, he dipped his head and looked at me over the top of his glasses with his brows raised and said, "You need an ENT that has removed many thyroids if that is what it comes too, and he has done many."

While I fully agreed with this rational, I also strongly felt the need for a team of specialists in pediatric thyroid cancer, not adult.

It was a very sobering experience to learn that the top three hospitals for pediatric cancers weren't even in the state! They were in Boston, Cincinnati and Philadelphia, gosh. It was, however, a very nice surprise to find out that the number four hospital on the list was, you guessed it, Texas Children's Hospital in Houston. It was also exhilarating to learn that Texas Children's had recently established a "multidisciplinary program dedicated to the diagnosis and treatment of children and young adults with thyroid tumors." I explained all this to Dr. Hubbard and he gave me the okay to make the call, as I am not only Cheyenne's mother but also her nurse.

Now I have called offices for referrals on my children before, but never with the level of fear or desperation as I was feeling in this moment. I was going to have to keep the emotions under control and do my job. When I called into the hospital, I spoke with a receptionist and explained about my patient, my baby. Generally when making referrals to offices, I would be required to leave my contact information and wait for a return call. This time my experience was completely different. The receptionist put me on hold and very quickly I became acquainted with Ms. Allison D. Bujnoch RN, Patient Care Coordinator. Alli, as we would come to know her by and appreciate, was by far the most unbelievable nurse I had ever met and we would rely on her greatly. I explained our situation and told Alli everything. I absolutely spilled my guts about the accident, the tests we had done, the results and my fears both as nurse and as Mom. I just couldn't hold it all in any longer, it was like a volcano erupting out of my mouth, hot lava rolling down the mountainside at an unstoppable rate. Thinking back on it now, I have to laugh at myself a little. However, Alli never once acted like she was talking to the total psycho I must have come across as, and I will never forget her or be able to thank her enough for that. Alli told me her provider, Dr. Ioanna Athanassaki (yes, it was a mouthful at first, but now rolls off as easy as Smith) wouldn't want us to wait, she would want us in immediately. She was so kind and explained, without raising more fears, that she would get with "Dr. A" for a game plan. Alli requested that I forward all of Chey’s records and scheduled us for the following Wednesday.

She did speak with Dr. Athanassaki and not only did we have an appointment with her, but they had arranged for Cheyenne to have a fine needle aspiration the same day! This was a feat in itself, I assure you, scheduling with specialists just isn't done this easily. I thanked Alli and as we were about to end the call, I asked her what had prompted the urgency, was it the micro calcifications or the vascular nature seen via ultrasound? She was so tactful and told me that as a nurse I knew the information was concerning and that I also knew we couldn't speculate. She said we needed to follow the process and that she would be in touch the following week. As both a nurse and mother, I can say that the interaction that day was not the norm and I was instantly calmed by that voice so very far away. If Alli was any indication of the type of people at Texas Children's, we were in the best hands possible and for the first time since the accident, I slept without terror.

Next time, Houston or Bust.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie

There and Back Again, a Non-Hobbit's Tale

For those readers who are not aware, the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo has a singing competition annually called Rodeo Rock Star. There are two age divisions up to age 21. To be selected you must first record a video and make it public on YouTube so people can vote. From there it’s in the publics hands with the top ten vote recipients, in each category, being selected to perform in front of a live audience and three well known judges at the rodeo itself. It's really a pretty cool deal, the winners even get a demo recorded and cash! Why am I telling you this? My daughter Cheyenne, amongst everything I have been telling you about over the past few weeks, made the semifinals! 

Speaking of that story I have been telling, we are at March 10, 2015. Cheyenne's neck injury during a softball game and subsequent trip to the Emergency Room resulted in an incidental finding - a nodule on her thyroid. We then went to the doctor and had an ultrasound performed which showed the nodule to be somewhat worrisome, it had a blood supply. Chey was still in a neck brace and taking a variety of medications to treat the original injury but she was determined to see the Rodeo Rock Star competition through. My husband and I had tried to talk her out of going (it's a five hour drive for us and we thought it would be too much for her) but she was having none of it. The idea that there could be cancer in my child's neck scared the absolute hell out of me and not giving her a chance to perform was out of the question in the end. So we loaded up, cushioned her as much as we could and headed to Houston. Of course, the day was dreary and cold, fittingly just like our moods. Even though our family doctor had tried to alleviate my fears with statistics, I was beyond worried. However, I knew I had to be strong so I went back into Momma Bear mode with my knowledgeable friend Dr. Google by my side throughout the trip to Houston. As I searched many sites, I was very surprised that blood supply was not the key phrase that seemed to be so indicative of cancer risk, rather it was the "micro calcifications" that turned up over and over again. I found that nodule size (anything greater than 2cm) and solid form were also indicative features.

Everything I was learning fueled my belief that my child, this beautiful vibrant human being, had cancer - specifically Papillary Thyroid Cancer (PTC). What next? Several of the leading minds on this disease, seem to recommend one test as the best and most reliable indicator for malignancy, the ultrasound guided biopsy or FNA (fine needle aspiration). This is where the doctor withdraws cells from the thyroid nodule with a very fine needle while guided by ultrasound and then a pathologist examines the cells for malignancy. During the drive, Cheyenne asked me what I was finding out and told me not to "sugar coat it". I shared the information with her and her father in the most matter of fact way I could. She simply acknowledged the facts and told me to find her a good doctor. She made it sound so easy.

We reached the rodeo grounds and the venue for the show. I don't know how Chey does what she does. Her neck was throbbing, she was taking both hydrocodone and flexeril. Yet, whenever someone spoke to her and asked about the pain she smiled and put on that face that says, 'It's really not that big of a deal'. The night wore on and the kids all did great jobs. Cheyenne performed a Jo Dee Messina song and it was great! She was able to do more than we ever dreamed considering the state of her neck and the realization that she most likely had cancer. The judges (Cowboy Dave, Joey Guerra, and Phil Nudleman) each asked the contestants questions and commented on their performances. Mr. Nudleman said that Chey has a unique strumming pattern and voice quality. He asked about the raspiness of her voice and wanted to know if the cervical collar was pushing on her neck constricting her breathing. As one not to make excuses, Cheyenne told him "No, it's been like that for awhile now." This was true and we had believed it was due to ongoing allergies but now, I began to wonder, was it from the nodule? Cheyenne told them about the accident but never even hinted at anything more. One judge commented on how people walking by had stopped and listened too, remembering the song. Cheyenne didn't make the final five that night, but she showed everyone there what she was made of. After the competition, one of the judges told her she was in his top five and to say I was proud of her is a huge understatement, I was simply amazed!

We spent the next day recuperating and we all slept in like we weren't going to ever again. Cheyenne decided we had better "get on it" and she began researching fervently too in hope of finding just the right doctor. As we were backed up in Houston traffic, we saw a sign for Texas Children's Hospital and Chey asked if they had a thyroid specialist. I told her I didn't know but I bet we could find out. I firmly believe that we were destined to be in Houston, not for the competition but to see that sign....He puts you where He needs you to be.

Next time, the search is on.

XXOO Make Everyday Count,
Bonnie