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