bloodwork – beatingcowdens

“Dear whatever doesn’t kill me, I’m strong enough now. Thanks.”

Published on May 24, 2014May 24, 2014 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

I needed today. For so many reasons.

Even thought Meghan had 2 appointments today – 11:15 and 12 – it was a good day.

We all slept. Late. All three of us. I mean 10:00. A good sign that we – all three- are shot.

I mean, not a whole lot changed from yesterday, in that it took a full 10 minutes before Meghan’s pain subsided enough for her to walk. And she was sensitive to the touch, so it was even hard to rub her. But everything is a little better at 10 AM.

And there was the Isagenix shake – blessed by her GI doctor, back in the mix made with blueberry and coconut milk – that went down smoothly as she took the new regimen of pills. I finally have a doctor who understands quality nutrition, and who “gets” that you can be sensitive to one type of milk protein and not another.

And after the appointments, even though I got the frustrating news that the “it’s broken, it’s fixed, it’s broken, it’s fixed” 1996 Saturn has likely advanced to “deal with it – it’s done” status, it was still OK.

Because we got home, and then Felix made lunch. I stayed home with Meghan and her “better but not gone” stomach pain.

After that he took the working car to get the wood for the deck railing that has completely rotted out.

No one can really explain that – but we are kind of used to it.

The deck – pressure treated wood – was put together between 2000 and 2004. By all accounts it is falling apart. And its not from faulty construction. The base is solid. The center is stable. But the galvanized screws are literally wasting away – and the wood, especially the rails, is rotting. Maybe it’s too much sun. Maybe it’s a stain product we used early in its life. It really doesn’t matter. It’s done and has to go on the budget list for a full replacement in the near future. But for now we patch.

Triage.

The bay window wins. Installed in November of 2000 – on my birthday to be exact- the lower left corner of the center window has rotted out completely. The entire window – hole in the house and all – needs to be replaced.

So while Felix was getting the wood, he priced the window Tonight we have to do some comparison work. Then the order has to go in.

But this afternoon I sat still. For a few hours. And I really, really, really liked it.

It’s easy to feel guilty. That there are things that need doing. There are people who could use our help. And there are people who need to be visited. And there are phone calls that need to be made. But, last week my Mom told me if I didn’t take some time for myself I might lose my mind. She’s right. Although I could say the same to her, and most people I know. It’s hard for any of us to just stop and sit still.

I haven’t written since Monday. The arrogance I encountered that day kept me stewing for most of the week. And… I don’t think I’m over it yet. But I wanted to pull my thoughts together and go at it with a clear head. But if I keep waiting for a clear head I may have to stop writing forever. Because the pain my child endures – regularly- is horrendous and worsening.

If the purpose of this blog is to create a chronology of our experience with Cowden’s Syndrome – then it all has to be shared. The good, the bad, and the arrogant.

A friend who endures more than her share of struggles with her children placed this on my wall this week. I can’t tell you how many times I laughed out loud.

Tuesday I called the surgeon’s office after school to inquire about the sonogram. He spoke to me – to tell me that there is absolutely nothing wrong with her neck.

Insert sigh of relief here, right?

So I said thank you, and requested a copy of the report. It was to be emailed to me within 10 minutes.

And while I was processing the conversation I had with the surgeon, I was contemplating what I would see on the report. You see, the local sonogram bothered the surgeon. So when we went to have it done I watched the screen like the hawk I am. I watched every measurement, every angle for 30 minutes. I SAW the exact dimensions from the local sonogram recorded. And yet the report was the most incomplete one I have ever seen. It simply said “normal” several times. It was contained on one sheet of paper, unlike the three I had become used to.

I wanted to be relieved so badly. I wanted to take a breath and say “whew!”

But I feel the lump in her neck. And she feels it.

What I needed was a doctor to say, “It’s there and it’s fine.” THAT would have been OK. THAT would have settled me down. But, to say it’s NOT there…. THAT leaves me with a whole other set of unsettled nerves.

And then the phone rang. Again. And it was the surgeon’s office. His secretary told me we needed to go back for a follow up. I was stunned. And perplexed.

Why a follow up? He just told me everything was fine!

The doctor just wants to see her one more time before the summer.

This from the same surgeon who three visits ago NEVER wanted to see us again.

So I set the appointment for June 16th. And I wondered really what I am supposed to think.

So I got the number for medical records and I got a CD of that exam placed on CD.

I’ll bring the CD with us for the endocrine consult at ANOTHER hospital on June 12th.

And this isn’t even the pressing problem right now. Or at least we don’t think so.

The next set of thyroid labs are going to be next week. We need to see if this new dose is making ANY difference in her thyroid hormone. If it is, well great. And if it isn’t… someone needs to start figuring out what’s going on.

There is pain. All the time. Terrible pain. Worse when she wakes up. And, when she tries to walk, up the stairs. Or down. Or if she tries to lift something. Or bend to pet the dogs. Or run. She made it through 18 minutes of swim practice on Weds. Then I had to help her get dressed.

The pain varies in intensity. But it doesn’t leave. And she is frustrated. And frightened.

Holding my head in her hands, looking me right in the eye, I received the admonishment a few days ago, “I am telling you I can not do this forever. I can handle this pain a bit longer, but you NEED to help me. I CAN NOT do this forever.”

No pressure.

I get it Meg. I get it. I don’t really get your pain. But I get the urgency. I am all over it. Trust me.

But that kind of pressure will wipe you out.

The GI on Weds. was happy with her progress. The pathology showed cellular changes all through the GI tract. She told us of the spot in the stomach she chose not to biopsy because it bled as the scope passed over it. She gave us the “reflux” diet. She reviewed medication and supplements. She made sure I have an ENT appointment – for June 3rd. She things the upper esophageal damage is caused by a chronic post nasal drip. And maybe “fingers crossed,” that will be the throat clearing too. Because if not there is another diet – with more restrictions on the horizon. But we can’t race. We will see her in the beginning of July. We are clear on the directions. Especially the one that said, “no pain medicine by mouth.” The damage done by 4 years of NSAIDs will take months to reverse. If we are lucky. Her Cowden’s Syndrome cellular overgrowth reacted to the insult by thickening the esophagus at spots, inflaming the stomach and causing a real mess.

That doesn’t leave a whole lot of options.

So from 200mg a day of a strong NSAID to nothing…

I ordered some herbs. Some that have anti inflammatory properties. I have read and researched them and have sold them to her as the best thing since Celebrex. They will be here tomorrow. Let’s all pray I am right.

Some people think she exaggerates, because there are glimmers of smiles. There are times when she laughs. There are people who want her to feel better just because time has passed. Trust me no one wants this more than her parents.

I would not trade her – or a moment of the last almost 11 years, but this constant struggle is wearing on us all. We are isolated. Family and friends alike are often unaware of what to say, or do. We are afraid to eat anywhere other than home, afraid to be too far away in case her stomach hurts, afraid to be away from home for too long because the pain is often too much to bear. We are lucky, fortunate, blessed, to have each other. We are acutely aware of the struggles of so many, and we know we are far from alone when we say we are exhausted.

I needed today. I did random things like taking the 5 gigs of pictures and video off the iPhone. I uploaded them to shutterfly. I combined them with the family photos and I placed the first print order since August of 2012. We are up to August of 2013 now. You see I used to be all over this kind of thing. But life… it gets in the way.

And the nicest part about today was looking at the memories. The smiles. The happy times in those photos. You see today I needed to be reminded…

And that is what today was about.

Because next week there is Field Day, with prayers that there can be mobility by then. And next week there is blood work. And next week there is swim practice, and so many things that we want to go very, very well.

Today, I needed today.

Who is in charge?

Published on April 28, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

Meghan slept until 11:20 this morning. She woke only to the sound of the hammering as her father works to trim out the upstairs rooms – a project that had an intended completion date of about 2005, but hey, life gets in the way sometimes.

We had woken earlier, Felix and I – but not too much earlier. We had wanted to go to church this morning, but learned a long time ago NEVER to wake Meghan. She had gone to sleep at 8 PM last night, and if she was still sleeping soundly in her own bed at that hour – well her body was clearly telling us to back off. We have a lot of respect for her body. It gets VERY cranky if you don’t listen carefully.

My three girls... resting together. — My three girls… resting together.

But, by 11 – we had become so ingrained in what we were going to do, that it wasn’t too hard to forget that our 9 year old was still sound asleep under her covers.

When she came stumbling out of her room to the sound of the hammer she was dazed but smiling. After a good morning hug she asked what we had to do today. When I told her that we were going to stay home all day she leaped into my arms.

Can I read? Yes…of course.

Can I watch some TV? Sure.

Can I take my shower later, and stay in my PJs? Absolutely.

While part of me was tempted to lecture her about getting up and showered and dressed, I refrained. Just because I could never bring myself to spend the day in my PJs, doesn’t mean she can’t.

In so many ways Meghan and I are somewhat different, but also a good deal alike.

Our bodies eventually shut down if they are always on the go. We need our down time.

Growing up with a sister and a mother who could move like Energizer Bunnies, I always felt a bit odd that I couldn’t keep up. They still move like that. And I still need to stop sometimes.

Now, I have a mini -me. (And my sister has two! :-))

So when I looked at the April calendar earlier in the month I had had some serious reservations about whether we could pull it off. For most of the month we were on a 7 day schedule.

Meghan switched schools.

We had PT twice a week, dance class, music class, swim practice, swim meets, test prep, doctor’s appointments….

But, we did it. A small hiccup last week when she started with an ear infection, but a quick run to the pediatrician (after the orthodontist, and before it transformed into a full-blown feverish mess) and we got it under control.

State tests – 6 days of them in the last 2 weeks. Stress – all of them. But they are over too.

Yesterday I pulled out Meghan’s spring clothes. There wasn’t much we could use. The sandals from last year were a size 6. She is a 7.5. The same was true for the clothes. We put even less away for the fall. Nothing really. But we will cross that bridge then. Right now she is almost 5 feet tall and every inch of her beautiful inside and out.

No wonder she needs to rest sometimes. Her body is certainly hurrying its way through its growth.

I spent the entire day at my desk. I just finished about an hour ago when I began to write. There were bills to file, papers to sort, letters to write. There is a letter writing campaign I am working on for a stop sign by my school.

There were some Emails to answer about Isagenix – the nutritional system that is changing my husband’s life.

http://meghanleigh8903.isagenix.com/us/en/landing_toxic.html (check that out here)

There were gifts to order, some lists to make, and I can now just about see the desk calendar, as it is ready to turn to May.

I probably should have gotten outside to enjoy the beautiful day too, but I guess this was my respite. I thrive on order and organization. I showered early – like I always do, but I relaxed by creating order.

You see Mom taught me a long time ago – that the more you look for order in life, the less you will find it. “You plan – God Laughs.” And I know she is right.

I really should listen to my Mom... — I really should listen to my Mom…

However, in this world where so many things are so far out of my control – I have a compulsion to control what I can. I can make sure the floor is clean, and the bills are paid, and the laundry is done. I can make sure there are always cupcakes for Meghan in the freezer in case there is a party. I can buy the cards, and order the gifts, and endeavor valiantly to balance my checkbook.

Crazy? Maybe. But I take satisfaction and solace in knowing that there are a few precious things left in my life I can control.

The last of a long series of lab tests ordered by my friend Dr. Elice was done Saturday morning. This is the week where I will find out what 37 vials of blood and 2 24 hour urine tests turned up. I will ask the 5,000 questions in my mind about endocrine function, and hormone levels, and ratios, and vitamin absorption. And, no matter how much I try to anticipate the answer, something will knock me flat on my ass.

That is how it goes. Cowden’s Syndrome keeps us hopping. And with Meghan there is an immune system deficiency, the chronic viral infections, and so many more things we are yet to figure out.

So – for tonight, the floor is clean, the list is made, the desk is organized. For tonight I can rest, and gear up for whatever this week has in store. And somehow, after dance class, and PT, and swim practice, and 2 meets… somehow it will all be OK.

I’m not in charge of this. It’s in the hands of a power far greater than any of us.

I’m only in charge of keeping the fur off the kitchen floor.

Superheroes…

Published on January 4, 2013August 25, 2015 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

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

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,

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.

Normal?

Published on September 21, 2012September 21, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

It’s Friday. And, the only medical office we have been inside of since after my colonoscopy Tuesday is the dentist. That’s a perfectly normal place to go, and the dentist is kind, and painless too. Three days. One appointment. And a “normal” one at that. Plus, no cavities.

This is exciting in my house. Everything we do seems to be peppered with a test or an appointment. So when it’s not, it’s time to celebrate a brief glimmer of normal.

Today I had appointments – but they were for the betterment of me, in the most psychological way. Nope, not a psychiatrist. I had a gel manicure, my eyebrows done, and then Meghan and I went for haircuts.

To top it off, while she went to a well run, fun “God squad” meeting, I snuck out for dinner with a really cute guy who makes me laugh a lot. We even have matching wedding bands! 🙂

So, tomorrow is the blood work to see if the WBC has begun to rebound. Tomorrow for the blood, Monday for the pediatrician. Tuesday for the fabulous Dr. Jill at PT, Weds. for another doctor… to be named later.

But for today – my little girl and her one of a kind necklace seem to be on the up side of healthy. She is about to go to bed, and close out today with her award-winning smile.

Today. Today is good. We are here. Together. We had only fun places to be. Today I am thankful for all the people who I crossed paths with.

Trying not to worry about tomorrow. Lord knows tomorrow has enough worries of its own.