I am sitting on the couch, alone. Unable to sleep because of the pain in my knee.
My left knee and I have quite a history. Pretty much told it was “arthritis” as a young one, but that was never confirmed with lab work. A car accident in 1991 banged it up and started the swelling on and off. Arthroscopic surgery in 2000 to “clean” it out, gave me relief for a few years. Now it, along with the horrendous varicose veins that plague my legs, are temporarily at the bottom of the triage list.
There are other things that we need to do first. Plus, we can’t spend our WHOLE life at the doctor.
So, when I am in my worst pain. The kind that causes me to actually ice and elevate the leg, and I start to feel sorry for myself I look at my daughter’s face and find my perspective.
I will be 40 in a little over a year. My joints have had some time to wear and tear. She will be 9 in a week. She can’t run or ride a bike without pain in her knee. She deals with a mass almost 3cm x 1cm intertwined in the side of her knee.It is always there. Even on the “good days.” She lives with he reality of the AVM that will continue to exist- to grow, and then be worked on, likely to only grow again.
As I climb the ladder closer to “middle age” thinking in terms of pain and management for the “rest of my life” is less scary. Then there is my girl.
Soon to be 9 years old. Gluten, dairy, soy allergies. Pancreatic insufficiency,chronic herpes simplex infection, immune system deficiency, early puberty, Cowden’s syndrome, gall bladder removed, tonsils and adenoids removed (and now growing back), lipoma removed from her back, excess gum tissue removed from her mouth, precancerous thyroid nodules, and an AVM that even after 4 surgeries just won’t quit.
Yet she finds plenty of time to laugh and smile every single day, and precious little time is wasted complaining about anything – from the one who could complain all day.
Life isn’t fair, but I am going to sit here with my ice pack and reflect on the fact that God is good – all the time. And He gave me one heck of a sweet gift in my little girl.
Maybe that should be the slogan for 30 something (ok closer to 40, I know) women who have been thrust into menopause. Kind of like the equivalent “Put on your big girl panties…”
Estrogen loss and menopause. Two more things I can thank Cowden’s Syndrome for, as I learn all the side effects connected with both – one at a time. At least I can relate to… well, not really ANYONE in my age bracket. But that’s Ok… I am getting used to it.
Fortunately it hasn’t been THAT bad yet, but I have found myself a little sweatier than normal, and I have been known to stick my face in an air conditioner lately while throwing an ice cube down my back.
I am not one to complain too much, but really, the reality of this one took a little time to catch up with me.
Yeah, I know it had to go. Blah, Blah Blah… Cowden’s Syndrome, uterine cancer, suspicious polyp. I get it. Oh, and your ovaries are way too big, too many cysts, let’s take those too. Sure – why not?
Nothing would have changed if I had asked all the questions in the world. It had to be done. And I am learning sometimes it is better not to know everything at once.
So, I am hearing words like calcium supplements, bone scan, and osteoporosis, while I have friends my age going for 20 week ultrasounds. Don’t misunderstand me. I never wanted another baby – but it just seems wrong. Like I have warped into a different reality.
That’s what these last few months feel like sometimes. A bad sci-fi movie. I am the girl who gets all her body parts cut out, one or two or three at a time.
I wonder how it ends.
And, most importantly I hope the movie theater has air conditioning. It’s HOT in here!
So, what do these three have in common? Give up? I bet a few of my Cowden’s Syndrome friends could guess…
They all can regenerate tissue that has been removed!
Except the first two tend to do it in a much more productive way.
I had heard tell that lymphoid tissue (especially the thyroid and tonsils) could regrow – especially in Cowden’s Syndrome patients. (It makes sense in a way, PTEN is a tumor suppressor gene that is broken, so cellular overgrowth is common.) But, I chose to ignore it.
Sometimes ignoring things for awhile allows you to deal with other things.
When Meghan had her tonsils and adenoids COMPLETELY removed in May of 2008 she was in the middle of a 12 week strep infection. Three months of antibiotics, and they were still pulling “heavy positive” cultures every 2 weeks. By the time they were to be taken out she was admitted for several days of antibiotics prior for fear of rheumatic fever. She was a chronic, almost constant strep sufferer.
Then for about 2 years – nothing. No strep.
I don’t remember the first time it came back. It was about 2 years ago. A full year before I ever heard of a PTEN mutation, or had any idea what Cowden’s Syndrome had in store for us. I thought it was odd, the strep coming back without the tonsils, but I chalked it up to a rotten immune system.
Slowly the cases have become more frequent. It is almost constant. We don’t leave the pediatrician without a throat culture and a script for an antibiotic. Not all the cultures come back positive, but you can tell. The food avoidance, the tough time swallowing, the swollen glands, the puss in the throat. You just know.
Lately it has been about once every 3 weeks. Way too many antibiotics to be good for anyone, but strep is way to serious to ignore. So, we keep treating, and wondering.
Today we had a routine visit to the oncologist. I mentioned the strep. She looked in the throat. She said, “Have you ever considered having her tonsils out?”
Isn’t that just the truth?? Goes along with the idea that “Everybody has Something.” Now if we could all just find a positive way to channel it.
Not always so easy. I cried today. I finally found a nice oncologist who takes my insurance. I saw her on Tuesday, but she wants me to get right on scheduling the colonoscopy. So I called to set up the appointment with the GI doctor and the first appointment was the day after our vacation. As I hung up the phone cried – overwhelmed by ANOTHER doctor, ANOTHER appointment. But it was my very smart Meghan who said, “Mommy if it is going to make you cry, just make it the next week. You can still go, just a little later.” I rescheduled.
My girl is in bed. Sick and feverish. We ducked an ER visit tonight, and am hoping to do the same tomorrow. Along with the Cowden’s she just has a rotten immune system.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring, for any of us?
Tonight I will not be angry about the past, the diagnosis, the syndrome that has taken so much of our time, freedom, and spontaneity. I will instead be grateful. For the geneticist who cared enough to find me an oncologist when I couldn’t. For the pediatrician who has called 3 times since we left his office at 2.
This past year has changed us, for sure. Cowden’s Syndrome has transformed us into different people. But I will never look back at this last year with eyes of regret or sorrow. I look back with gratitude. For the health I have, for the friends that have stood by me, for the new friends I have made, for my family.
Constantly changing, none of us are ever the same. The question is WHAT do you want to change into? I know what I pick…
It is late. I should be asleep. Morning comes fast and it is already after midnight. I just can’t seem to find a way to unwind.
I just had a long chat with a ‘new” friend. That helped a lot. But still here I am, trying to get these racing thoughts out of my head before I rest.
I saw a new oncologist today. The geneticist insisted I have one to follow me and one for Meghan. Except I was having a hard time finding one who didn’t think Cowden’s Syndrome was contagious. (Ok, perhaps I exaggerate, but they weren’t anxious to see me.)
So the geneticist sent out an Email on Tuesday to some of his friends. By Friday he had a name for me, (which means the genetecist is a KEEPER!) of a doctor IN network, and I met her today.
She is lovely. Of course, by already having the double mastectomy and the hysterectomy, I have made her job much easier. Now she gets to push me to the fun stuff. Next up- colonoscopy, and kidney MRI. So tomorrow I will call to get the GI appointment, while they work out the authorization for the MRI.
And all the while I will mourn a bit for the summer that wasn’t meant to be. This was more, a necessary doctor “catch up period.” I think by the end of August we will have at least 25 appointments done between us. And those are just the ones scheduled right now.
So, just when I start to get whiny and cranky about wanting some alone time to shop, or some fun time to swim, I remember. Were it not for the work of the angel on my shoulder, that pushed my “prohylactic blilateral mastectomy” in March, I would have likely been spending this summer prepping for cancer treatment.
So, we still get our trip to Disney, and there is always NEXT summer…
I spent the last hour preparing for Meghan’s oncologist visit on Friday. We haven’t seen this doctor for months. There have been a few things going on. So, I faxed her 32 pages of what we have been up to. She wanted to review it before the appointment.
I posted the cartoon because I had her binder out while I was preparing the fax. I laugh every time I read it because even after all these years it is still true. Even with our diagnosis of the PTEN mutation, and Cowden’s Syndrome, even with the precancerous thyroid nodules in Meghan, and her early puberty, she still has pain. Every day. And not one of these doctors that we take her to can tell us why.
I thank GOD every day for her stamina, and her spirit and her spunk. She is my love, my reality check, my perspective, my reason for being. I feel displaced right now, from my church, my comfort zone – but not from God. Even in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty, I have a husband and a daughter that are beyond compare. God has us in the palm of His hand. We are blessed. And it WILL be OK!
This year I am obsessed… well with quite a few things, but one of them is not (directly) medical.
This year I am focused on a high quality, everyone looks their best, everyone is smiling, family photo.
We are a family of three. Immediate family that is. (Not including our furry friends Allie, and Lucky.)
Our extended family includes his parents, two sisters, a brother-in-law, and three nephews. On my side, there are my grandparents, (Mom’s parents, my step-dad’s Mom, and my father’s mom) as well as my mom and dad, my father, my two sisters, a brother-in-law and a half-brother, and two nephews. That list doesn’t begin to address aunts, uncles and cousins galore on both sides. Yes, they are all family, but reality will never put them all in one place at the same time, and there are probably some blessings to that. While I love them all dearly, I often say you shouldn’t mix drinks, or extended family!
We have been fortunate enough that we have been able to travel to Walt Disney World in Florida for the past 4 summers. We will be making it a 5th this year. We save and budget all of our “fun” money for a Disney vacation because for their extremely high pricing, we get “allergy safe” meals wherever we eat, and unlimited access for Meghan’s push chair, which she often needs when we travel more than about a half mile. It is the best week of the year for all of us.
It is usually the week of Meghan’s birthday. It is doctor free, no needles, just be “normal” week. We take LOTS of pictures. Usually it is of Meghan alone, or of one of us with Meghan. They are great photos and I treasure them. The few photos we have gotten of all of us in Disney usually have us in sweats, and sneakers – SWEATING. This year we are going to go to the photo studio, and I don’t care how much it costs. Meghan and I have dresses picked out, and matching sandals too. (We just need to pick out something for Daddy who after deciding “stress eating” isn’t the way to go, is down over 20 pounds!)
There are so many reasons why I am focused on this photo. It is FUN to focus on something FUN.
I have been smacked in the face with the reality of the frailty of life. In March I was given a “second chance” as I was told the breast cancer that was “sneaking up on me,” unbeknownst to any doctor – was gone. Gone after a “prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.” Gone before it had a chance to wreak havoc on my life. Gone. But I will not forget the words of my surgeon, “If you had waited until July to do the surgery you would have likely been in a fight for your life.” Instead, I will go to Disney World.
Not lost on me is the reality that 15 years ago next month my Mother finished up treatment for bilateral breast cancer. She is strong, a survivor, still here, enriching our lives.
Not lost on me is the cancer scare AGAIN in May, as they worried about a malignancy in my uterus, before performing a hysterectomy.
I am vividly aware every moment that the thyroid specialist who monitors Meghan’s “precancerous” thyroid nodules, took back his invitation to come back in a year, and said, “we better see you in 6 months. One nodule is starting to dominate.”
I am painfully aware every moment that after one of the strongest, and longest battles I have ever witnessed, we lost GGPa in June to cancer.
My stomach, and my heart hurt for the victims of the senseless attack in Colorado this week. Families out to see a movie – life ended so tragically.
I love to look at pictures. In an age when people have stopped printing them, I have shelves FULL of albums. I love reliving memories, and smiling at al the good times. The albums remind me, that no matter how tough things seem, there ARE LOTS of good times.
Cowden’s Syndrome, PTEN mutation, cancer, NOTHING can take away the memories or the good times. So since 2012 has been quite the year, we will take a “fancy” family photo. One that will hang somewhere in our house and remind us that we can endure the tough times. One that will remind us to hug each other tightly, and to kiss each other when we leave, and to never stay angry over nonsense.
One that will remind us that we are defined by our spirits, and not by the sum of our parts.
It just sounds better than 6 months. It feels better too.
“Six months” says, we are still a bit concerned.
A year says, “You got this. I’ll just check back and make sure it’s all good.”
One year from now I will visit the plastic surgeon. She will check on my fake boobs, and make sure they are still doing exactly what they are supposed to do. (Which near as I can figure is stay still.)
Next month I visit the breast surgeon. Hoping to get “one year” from her too.
Eventually my life and Meghan’s will be in some type of maintenance cycle. We still have some time before we get there, and there will always be doctor’s appointments – but for now it’s a big win.