My Little Ambassador

Meghan is really into raising awareness of Cowden’s Syndrome and other Rare and Genetic Diseases.  She is extremely excited about “World Rare Disease Day” on February 28th.

We are in the process of making MANY denim ribbons that look like this.  She plans to ask her principal tomorrow if she can give one to every staff member and student in the school.  She wants to do this purely to raise awareness.  Her ideas for fundraisers are developing separately.

denim ribbonShe has also researched statistics on Rare Diseases, and came up with this sheet to attach to the ribbons.

February 28th is World Rare Disease Day

 

My name is Meghan… and I have a Rare Disease called Cowden’s Syndrome.  It is a genetic disease that affects only about 1 in 200,000 people.  (That is only about 1,500 in the whole USA!)  One of my genes called PTEN is broken.  It causes tumors and vascular growths in my body.  I have lots of surgeries.  My Mom has Cowden’s too.  We are luckier than a lot of other people with rare diseases.

I learned some information about other rare and genetic diseases;

1. There are about 7,000 types of rare diseases.

2. Some of the rare diseases affect less than 100 people.

3. 50% of all rare diseases affect children, and are responsible for 35% of the deaths in the first year of life.

4. 1 in 10 Americans are living with a rare disease.

5 About 350 million people in the world are affected by rare diseases.

6. If all the people with rare diseases lived in one country, it would have the 3rd biggest population in the world.

7. 80% of rare diseases are genetic.  They can present at any time in a person’s life.  My mom was much older than me when she was diagnosed.  I was diagnosed first!

8. There are no cures for any rare disease, and only 5% of them have any treatment.

9. Over 50% of all rare diseases have no foundations, support groups, or anyone looking for a cure.

10. Cowden’s Syndrome isn’t fun, but when it comes to rare diseases, we are some of the lucky ones.

We support, and get our information from www.globalgenes.org. Their slogan is “Hope it’s in our Genes.”

That “play on words” is why we wear denim, and denim ribbons today.

lori and meghan

In addition, because maybe there was a chance I couldn’t get any more proud, she received a book assignment from school.  She had to write a story where the main characters were two dogs named “Casey and Bella.”  She decided to write about what meant something to her.

Cover
Cover
Back cover
Back cover

I have no idea who will win, but you know who gets my vote.

Everywhere she goes, she seems to take an opportunity to tell someone about Cowden’s Syndrome.  She says people need to know.  She uses our necklaces to start all sorts of conversations.

Two of a kind
Two of a kind

She dreams that one day they will be as common as the “pink ribbon,” or the “puzzle piece.”

I think she is just the girl to make it happen.

Someone in one of my online groups asked if we knew anyone famous with Cowden’s Syndrome.

Does… I know someone trying to make Cowden’s Syndrome famous count?

I love my little girl!

Power Surges

525,600 minutes….

The song is stuck in my head.

Dates, numbers, zip codes, birthdates, anniversaries.  I think in numbers.  I think that’s why teaching math makes so much sense to me.

I used to balance my checkbook right down to the penny.  Now I use “estimation.”  Sometimes numbers are important, and other times not so much.

Tomorrow is the 16th.  January 16th is the birthday of an old friend, but that wasn’t why the 16 was sticking in my head tonight.  Tomorrow it will be 8 months since my hysterectomy.  Not 6 months, not a year.  Eight months is an odd “anniversary” to remember.

happy hysterecomy

I don’t try to understand why I remember certain things.  I just do.

Although if I have to guess, tonight the hysterectomy is on my mind because I am feeling my age.   (Or perhaps a bit older than my age.)

You see when you have a complete hysterectomy in your late (very late) 30s, Mother Nature has a grand old time, messing with your body and your head.  As the months go by your body finds ways to behave that aren’t quite “right.”

Yippee- you no longer suffer through monthly visits to the local drug store to relieve your misery.  (She was never my “friend” anyway.)  But that may be where the cheering ends.

hysterectomy

Tonight I was sure the thermostats – yes both of them – were broken.  I fiddled with them to get the chill out of the air when I got home from work.  No sooner did I finish the first of the homework with Meghan, and I was removing layers.  I checked the temperature again.  It couldn’t be only 70 degrees.  In my world we were in balmy Orlando in August.

Properly changed into a T shirt, I asked Meghan why she wasn’t sweating in her long sleeve shirt.

“Mom, it’s January.  Are you OK?”

hot flashes2

Yep.  Fine.  Guess the thermostats are fine too.  It’s mine that is a little broken.

Mine is running hot and dry like the Sahara.  Lots of water.  No wine tonight.

The hysterectomy was a good idea.  A necessary step in the “beating Cowden’s” process.  I get it.  I am not sorry I did it.  But really some days I have to say this estrogen withdrawl thing is not for the faint of heart.

I popped one of the migrane pills.  An added joy since the surgery – hormonal migranes.  And the cool thing is (in my most sarcastic typing) that there seems to be NO rhyme or reason to their timing.

4 migranes my entire life before May.   At least 8 since May.

With all the changes my body has been through this year, its a wonder we are still on speaking terms.  I guess when I really think about it – it’s probably Ok that I am running at different speed these days.  Bursts of energy, coupled with bone crushing fatigue…

525,600 minutes… Cowden’s Syndrome has kept us busy. I can only imagine what 2013 has in store.

Now if you’ll excuse me…. I have to go stick my head in the freezer…

power surges

“The Six Month Leash”

The new normal… that is normal AFTER the Cowden’s Syndrome diagnosis, revolves around living life 6 months at a time.

6_months

On Wednesday  I got word that I can keep my spleen for at least 6 more months.

On Friday, we got the anxiously awaited news that Meghan‘s thyroid biopsy was benign.  We return for another scan in 6 months.

There is 6 months in between visits to the vascular surgeon.  6 months in between the endocrine surgeon, the dermatologist, the rheumatologist, and the general surgeon too.   There are more, so many more, but you get the idea.

See you in 6 months.  So we can do it all again.

I am trying to slow down.  Instead of waiting for the next appointment, I am trying to enjoy today.  I am trying to silence the giant stopwatch in the back of my head, ticking time away until the next appointment.

stpwatch

Truth is if I don’t pull the battery out of that thing, I may lose my mind!

It’s not all neat and clean, this whole Cowden’s mess.  Although when I stop to think about it, it is readily apparent that life is far from neat and clean.

Reality is that life is complicated.

Life carries with it no guarantees.

Life is what you make of it.

The struggle for everyone is different.  Mine is a struggle with my mind.

Beating Cowden’s is not like training for a sprint.  Nope.  We are training for a hilly marathon in the snow.  We have to build the endurance – and find a way to enjoy the training.  Even the really painful ones.

See, if it was just me suffering – it would be easier.  But it’s not.  And truth be told, having my kid ask me every night last week if I found out yet “Do I have cancer, Mom?”  Well, that was downright exhausting,  I am NOT looking forward to doing it again, in 6 months, or ever.  But, reality tells me there will be more biopsies on the horizon.

So we spent the weekend visiting with some family, dusting off a few things that hadn’t been tended to, finally opening some Emails, and important documents about the new car (a few weeks late) and just trying to readjust… to down shift from acute worry into chronic worry.

positive attitude

Well, that isn’t actually the goal.  The goal is for me to shelf the worry altogether… but baby steps please.

Ironic that I am currently the thinnest I have ever been, and in the worst shape of my life – simultaneously.   I fell on Saturday.  Over the dog.  She was on the sheets on the basement floor that were waiting to be washed.  I ended up on the floor, my knee and wrist banged up, and my back in spasms reminiscent of the car accident.

My calendar tells me we have about 5 weeks until the next major doctor cycle.  Good thing.  I need a chiropractor to help me move. and I need a few days without other appointments in order to get there.

The 6 month thing… well that’s not just twice a year.  That would be neat and clean.  No, the 6 month thing seems to just be ongoing.  We try to make the breaks as long as possible.  You know, so in between we can deal with the new adventures life tosses our way.

changes - adapt

I am going to focus, and keep trying to get this one day at a time thing down.  I am going to stop and look around more.  I am going to try to enjoy the ride.  It won’t be easy.  But I am on it.  I promise.

I need a new pair of sneakers for this marathon training.

Who knows, I might just get back in shape yet!

you were given this life

BENIGN!!!

I headed home at lunch with the need to send out this message of thanks, to those of you who thought about us, prayed for us, and kept us close to your hearts.

I spoke to the nurse this morning.  She said the pathology was BENIGN!  I don’t think I heard much else she said, as the tears just started flowing.

We are not, nor will we ever be “out of the woods.’  They will scan her thyroid every six months indefinitely.  But I am learning with Cowden’s Syndrome to accept the “6 month leash” as a win.

Right now she does NOT have thyroid cancer.

Right now she does NOT need the thyroid removed.

Although the MOM in me in some ways wants it gone BEFORE they ever tell me its malignant, I do understand the doctors reasons for waiting.

So, with a renewed appreciation for the power of prayer, and a belief that we have MANY guardian angels watching over us… I say THANK YOU ALL.

One step at a time

Tonight, we celebrate the small victories because we are fully aware how important the little things are.

I get to keep my spleen for 6 more months. (And maybe even longer!)

celebrate

The surgeon said that the hamartomas are there.  They are large, but they are stable.  Stable is a nice word.  So, because they are stable it implies they are benign.  This is another nice word.  The game becomes seeing if they remain stable.  So, in 6 months I will have another MRI.  If they have changed – it comes out.  If they haven’t we can continue to talk about keeping it.

6_months

Makes me wonder when keeping our organs became cause for celebration.

That is definitely in the “Post Cowden’s Syndrome” world.

You know I have wondered on and off how you actually “beat” Cowden’s.  Is it by coming through with the most organs still intact and cancer free?  This is such a strange, relentless disease.  It’s research, while still in its infancy is coming.  But,  I have to wonder how much more they will know a year, or 10 years from now.  And, whether I will like any of it.

We are waiting.  And we know that we are not alone.  We are waiting for Meghan’s results, and its nail biting, agonizing waiting.  But, Felix and I talked tonight and wondered what news would make us happy.  There was no easy answer.

please wait

See, last year – January actually – when we transferred the slides from her November 2011 biopsy to Sloan Kettering, the endocrinologist whose team reviewed the slides told us the cells were precancerous.  They had scored a 3 out of 5 on some scale they use.  He told us they would turn.  We just couldn’t predict when.

So, in June when he called and said he wasn’t thrilled with this nodule (one of many) on the left side we were anxious.  But he said, having reviewed her sonogram she could wait 6 more months to be scanned again.

So, here we are 6 months later.  Tomorrow will mark an agonizing 2 weeks since we went for this sonogram.  Waiting.  Worrying.  Wondering.

what if

When they tell you its “when,” not “if,” it changes things.  No matter what they tell us there will be an anxious, uneasy feeling attached.

This is the game with Cowden’s Syndrome.  It’s almost like a time warp.  A terrible cycle of wait, test, worry, results… Wait 6 months and repeat.

time-warp

Six months seems to be all you really get.  Well, now what I have lost a few organs, I get a year on those follow ups.  But everything else is 6 months.  For both of us.

I tried to sync them up.  So that maybe the worry wouldn’t seem continuous.  But it hasn’t worked yet.

I try not to think too far ahead.  You know what Mom says about planning anyway.

I-plan-God-laughs And to think about this in constant 6 month cycles, well… forever.  It’s a little too much to manage sometimes.

So, we take it one day at a time.  Sometimes one hour.  Or, on this never ending road we call Cowden’s Syndrome – one step at a time.

neverending road

No place like home

We are home.

The procedure is finished.

A scheduled 1 PM start turned into 2:45 on an empty belly.

But, it went fine.

The doctor got what she needed.

Now its up to the pathologist.

So, we wait.

We pray. (THANK YOU ALL…. WE FELT THE LOVE ALL DAY!)

I have a glass of wine (or two.)

We should have an answer no later than Friday.

Early to bed tonight.

Tomorrow I get to meet a surgeon about my spleen.

Cowden’s Syndrome is EXHAUSTING!

Exhausted

Prayer Circle

There are a lot of people who pray for Meghan.  And we are grateful for every single one of them.  But, there are a special group of ladies…

Well, between them they have 9 children – 3 each.  They all have incredibly busy lives, and all of our lives connected some years ago.  We don’t see each other all that often, and rarely in the same place, but they are my prayer group of sorts.  Our children are connected, in a bunch of different ways.  Our lives are intertwined, and we have vowed to support each other.

We all seem to share the belief that –

Ultimate-reality-check

And, with that belief comes responsibility.

So, they were among the first people I shared my blog with in its infancy last year.  They are the ones I turn to and say… lift this up…  PLEASE, and without fail it is done.  And they do the same for me.  We all pray fervently for each other.  For friends, and family.  For people we know well, and for people we haven’t met, and for people we may never meet.

We pray because we believe it works.

We pray because we have seen it work.

Last spring when my sister’s dear niece was knocking on death’s door – felled by a virus of unimaginable strength, we (along with countless others) prayed.  And we witnessed nothing short of a miracle.

The day of my mastectomy, wracked with fear – terror actually – my cell phone rang as I was checking into the hospital.  My brother-in-law, a Lutheran minister was on the phone at 6AM, ready to pray with me.  As the tears rushed down my face I felt the calm envelop me.

Prayer is powerful.

But, it doesn’t always take worry away.

sleeplessSo tonight, as I struggle to sleep, I will think of them with gratitude.  I will also think of the countless others – those we know and those we don’t, who are lifting my little girl up in prayer.

Tomorrow we go for the biopsy.  Then we wait.  I am not sure which part we will need your prayers for most.  But, please – whatever you believe, remember us this week…

life doesnt get easier you get stronger

No such thing as coincidence

I woke up this morning earlier than normal, and that is not like me.  Worry had taken its toll on me through the night.  I was up and showered with plenty of time to get Meghan to Sunday School.

She woke up sore and stiff – some combination of a difficult swim class, and her body’s realization that it had been two days without Celebrex.  That is her “wonder drug,” the one that keeps her moving pain free.  She needs to be off of it until it is determined if she will need thyroid surgery.  The pain will progress.

Still, determined, she struggled through getting dressed and found her smile before heading out the door.  She looks forward to church – the lessons, the children, the teachers.  She adores them all.

As I headed home to wait out her class I heard a song on the radio that I have heard many times before, but today Matthew West‘s “Strong Enough”  spoke to my heart.

If you don’t know the song, its worth listening to, but some of the words that spoke to me; “I know I’m not strong enough to be everything that I am supposed to be.  I give up.  I’m not strong enough… Hands of mercy won’t you cover me, Lord right now I’m askign you to be Strong Enough for the both of us…”

Tears streaming down my face I headed home.  I am always thankful and amazed when the song  I “need” hits at exactly the right time.

As Felix and I headed back for the 11 AM service I reflected on the week in front of us.  The biopsy looms large.  The results even larger.  Sandwiched in between is an appointment for my spleen.  Busy week for the Ortegas and their ever troubled organs.

I had Emailed the pastors to let them know of Meghan’s biopsy.  They have done such a wonderful job helping us feel at home, even as we are technically “guests,” that they have made it known to us they appreciate being kept “in the loop.”

This morning during Church I was introduced to a Moravian Custom.  Appranetly early in the year everyone chooses a scripture verse from a large basket.  They called it, jokingly,” Fortune Cookies, Moravian style.”

We were told that this passage would be our “watchword” for the year, and that we would would see God’s work in our lives through the scripture.

I said a quick prayer to God to send us something good.

As usual, He did not disappoint.

For Meghan – Hebrews 11:1 – “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  For my Meghan, a verse to define the abstract “faith” that yielded lots of good discussion today.

For Felix, a verse from Job 37:5 “God thunders wondrously with His voice.  He does great things we can not comprehend.”  A reminder to the strength of our family, from Job who suffered so.

For me, Psalm 116:2 – “What shall I return to the Lord for all His bounty to me?”  The reminder to continue to “Pay it Forward,” and to remember even on the tough days, I am so blessed.

The prayers of the church lifted up my little girl, and she sighed.  So pleased to know the larger community sees her needs.  She has such a long prayer list of her own, that to be remembered and prayed for clearly touched her soul.

I left church to a hug from the pastor, who is also a mom.  As I looked into her eyes no words were needed, and meaning was clearly conveyed.

Despite our rough times… God is good to us.

I heard the Matthew West song again today.  I didn’t cry this time.  I just took a deep breath.  “I don’t have to be Strong Enough….”

There are no coincidences.  Only the hand of God through the power of the Holy Spirit, ready with exactly what we need, when we need it.  Truly amazing.

God’s got us covered.

By this time Tuesday we will be awaiting results.

Superheroes…

I saw superheroes today.  Not the kind that normally come to mind.

superheroes

The 9th floor of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center was absolutely crawling with them.

None of them had capes.  And they weren’t any funny colors.

None of them could fly, and yet I am sure that’s what they were.

I saw young bald superheroes with smiles that could light any room.

I saw older, more mature superheroes, heroically managing their IV poles, after teaching a younger one not to cry.

I saw parent superheroes, who although their capes were invisible to the naked eye, possessed nerves of steel, and the ability to make their young one laugh even as they themselves were inches from despair.

I had a lot of time to watch them.  We had a long wait this morning.  And even as I kept Meghan distracted, my eyes never left them.

They navigated the floor like it was home, handled IV poles and ports and masks, like they were additional appendages.

These people- the young ones and their parents, are made from a stock stronger than most of us.  They endure the unimaginable, day after day.  Some endure it for years on end.  And they press on – because that is what you do.

My beautiful cousin Meghan was one of those superheroes,
My beautiful cousin Meghan was one of those superheroes,

Sometimes it ends well, and some times it doesn’t.  But while you are there there is no time to think, or to wonder.  You must just press on.

That is the story that the 9th floor of MSKCC told me this morning, as we waited for preadmission testing.

Meghan had a 9 AM appointment and between blood work, and our meeting with the nurse, we had at least an hour to wait, and watch, and marvel, and wonder, and worry.

The biopsy is Tuesday.  The results will be in by Thursday so they say.

Then, we can make a plan.  They tell me they can get the thyroid removed in a few days if the biopsy is positive.

If it’s not cancer… get us home.  And, if it is – GET IT OUT OF MY LITTLE GIRL!

She will have nothing to eat or drink after midnight Monday.  She will be tired, and cranky, and hungry when we arrive on Tuesday.  But she will get anesthesia like she asked, and the procedure will be much more humane.

Then, we will wait.

strength