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