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
You have such a good way of telling your story. It so easy and smooth, you have talent. Love y'all.
ReplyDeleteThat's so sweet! Thank you!!
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