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