Cowden syndrome – Page 25

Catch-22

Published on October 10, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

A catch-22 is a paradoxical situation from which an individual cannot escape because of contradictory rules.^[1]^[2] Catch-22s often result from rules, regulations, or procedures that an individual is subject to but has no control over.

-Wikipedia

You know a person could go crazy trying to keep themselves free from toxins. These days it seems to be an all consuming, and virtually impossible task. Sometimes I wish I knew a lot less. Sometimes maybe ignorance is bliss. And cheaper. And a LOT less stressful.

But then again, I think my girl would be a whole lot worse off. And therein lies the “Catch-22.”

Meghan has been seen by a “biomedical specialist,” (insert voodoo, witchcraft, flawed medicine – whatever makes you happy) since she was about 2.

Back in the summer of 2005 things were definitely NOT ok here. I knew it deep down where that Mommy gut nags at you. We had speech therapy. We had occupational therapy. And we had a child who had already been hospitalized twice with chronic viral infections, was not sleeping, was not playing, was not talking, and was most of the time flat out uncomfortable. We also had a vast array of doctors who dutifully collected my Co-Pays and did absolutely nothing but tell me they “didn’t know.”

So, I read. I researched. I altered her diet. I added some key supplements. I started to see results – but not enough.

This doctor, whose office we just left a few hours ago – over 8 years since our initial meeting- got to know Meghan. He told us he could help. And he has.

We have worked together through dietary interventions. Supplements. IV treatments. Countless blood tests. And, when we needed it – Xrays, and guidance towards the diagnosis of “milk of calcium” of the gall bladder at age 3.5

He has been my sounding board through lots of ups and downs. I have never, and will never take any one person’s word on what I should do for my daughter – doctor or not – but he is one of the opinions I value highly.

He had the gumption to prescribe digestive enzymes after YEARS of horrendous stool and horrific stomach aches. “We don’t need to biopsy the pancreas. Sometimes we just need to use our heads to see what works.” Not too often these days will you find any medical professional with that confidence or drive to do what is right.

Through the years we have visited his office at least 3 times a year for lengthy consultations. He has suggested countless things to help aid Meghan’s immune system, her pain, her tendency towards chronic fatigue. I have listened to many, and ignored a few. Conversations have evolved over the years as we have each stayed up to date on current research.

The initial diagnosis of Cowden’s Syndrome seemed to bother him a great deal. He was bothered by the ramifications of the syndrome, but also by the fact that there was no way this was “all of it.” Meghan “doesn’t fit in a box,” he would always tell me. Never let them try to put her in one.

And, perhaps truer words have not been spoken. As we have navigated the world of Cowden’s Syndrome, I have been acutely aware that there is still “something else.” But, since we are yet to put our finger on it – we continue doing the best we can.

Cowden’s Syndrome involves screening tests. Regularly. For cancer, and vascular malformations that can form anywhere at any time. X-Rays and CT scans are discouraged because of radiation exposure and a fear that cells can be “tripped.” So MRI is the test of choice. MRI with contrast that is. Gadolinium to be exact.

I’ll get back to why that is important in a bit.

We have spent the last 2 years especially, (but really the last 5 or so for Meghan considering the AVM in her knee was discovered LONG before the Cowden’s Syndrome diagnosis) being scanned. In July Meghan had an MRI ordeal that involved 4,000 images, 3 hours, 2 tubes, and 3 doses of contrast dye.

We have spent the last few years dealing with a rapidly growing child whose pains seemed to be increasing exponentially. We have gone from treating with Advil to treating with 200 mg a day of Celebrex.

We have spent the last few years trying to help her stay calm- only to watch her anxiety mount. In September she was diagnosed with Alopecia Areata– an autoimmune condition that causes hair loss. Fortunately for us it seems to be contained to a small area, but it is an unnerving diagnosis still the same.

We understand the role of autoimmune disease and stress, and toxins. We understand the role that stress can play on a genetic mutation of the PTEN (tumor suppressor) gene. We understand that there is external and internal stress.

We do what we can to control stress on the body. We make sure she has “down time.” We try to help her get rest. We got her involved in swimming, a sport she loves. We make sure she eats a largely organic diet free of the foods she can not tolerate like gluten, dairy and soy. We eliminated almost without exception preservatives and dyes. We bought new pots and threw out the plastic plates we used to use sometimes.

We started giving her ISAGENIX, the organic superfood that is as pure as I seem to be able to find.

And even at that – there is an awareness that we can NOT control it all. There is an awareness that by whatever mechanism that is broken, our girl does NOT detoxify properly. We are aware of toxins in the air, in our soil, and even in our filtered water. We are aware that her body is confused by this world we live in, by the GMOs that are even hidden in her organic diet.

We run, like Indiana Jones, out in front of the boulder, in constant motion. One stride ahead…

Chelation

Chelation therapy is a proven treatment for lead poisoning and poisoning from other heavy metals.

http://www.cancer.org/treatment/treatmentsandsideeffects/complementaryandalternativemedicine/pharmacologicalandbiologicaltreatment/chelation-therapy

The term has been spoken over and over again by the “bio medical doctor.” Chelation is the concept I found every single excuse to overlook and ignore. The idea shook me to my core.

The turning point – Alopecia Areata and the words I had heard him say to me for years, “She is primed to become an autoimmune train wreck. Let’s try to clean her out.”

She went for her first treatment last month. After the treatment there is an 8 hour urine test to measure the toxic metals excreted.

She went for her second treatment today and I got to look at the printout of last month’s urine analysis. So, even as I held her, and she wailed in pain, and two veins rolled before they got a good one, my resolve was strong.

There are several metals that were high. None of that made me happy. But the most disconcerting of all…

The reference range for that MRI contrast dye Gadolinium I mentioned earlier is <0.4. Her output was 190. No I am not forgetting a decimal.

Gadolinium. Necessary for the cancer and vascular screenings set to be part of her life forever. Except apparently her body can’t seem to excrete it.

Catch-22

Keep Swimming…

Swimming Upstream

Published on October 9, 2013 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

The phrase “packed in tighter than sardines” was in my head as Meghan and I tried to navigate the overcrowded local middle school fair tonight.

It was hot. Hotter than it should be October 9th, but exactly as hot as an overcrowded Public High School cafeteria is on your average fall day. It was stuffy, humid, and uncomfortable.

As we traveled from table to table, remarking how much easier it would be to see over the never-ending crowds if there were some signs indicating which school was where – we just tried to get a feel for the place, and for each table.

We went interested primarily in two schools, but open to read and learn about more. One school is small. It works off a lottery and opens only 150 seats a year. The other school has over 1100 students.

And as I pondered some pros and cons based on size alone, I was reminded of something a friend from work said a few months back. I may not have her exact words, but it was something to this effect,”The problem with where we live is that something becomes popular, just because a few people go there. Then it gets more popular, and more people go, but no one ever investigates the quality. It develops a reputation based on one feature, and people don’t look farther.”

There I was, one of those people. I kept saying I wanted my kid in the lottery for the school, “because its small.” I was not impressed by the people at the table. I was not impressed by the lack of information about the school. I was not impressed at all. I may still go to their open house, but it will be with a very open mind.

Then there was the other school. The one with 1100 kids and the principal himself standing in front of a well constructed information board. He answered questions, clearly, honestly and patiently. He spoke with confidence about the school. He invited parents in during the school day for tours. He looked every parent in the eye and spoke as if their child was the most important thing on his mind right then. And, even if he doesn’t remember any of them tomorrow, he proved himself to me. It’s difficult to fake the sincerity involved with shaking someone’s hand and looking them in the eye.

And we were about an hour in to this ordeal when Meghan’s knees began to give her trouble. Still pressing on – because that’s what she does – I knew time was of the essence.

I also knew it was time to have the conversation about “barrier free” schools. See, in the city of New York, most schools have multiple floors. This is fine for most kids, and for general physical fitness. But when your 10- year -old has already endured 4 knee surgeries…

There will be discussions about the IEP, about the 1:1 health paraprofessional, about the physical therapy, and about the appropriate placement for Junior High for my girl. Because wherever she goes, the Cowden’s Syndrome goes too. So we need to find a place where they are BOTH welcome.

Every which way I turned tonight I ran into old friends. There were some I haven’t seen since preK, and others we connected with at various points along the way. The kids are older now, almost young adults. I can still see them running on the lawn after PM session, or on the soccer field.

All of us looking, somewhat stunned, somewhat unsure of what the right place will be for our child.

As I drove past Lowe’s this weekend I saw a Christmas tree and almost got sick. “Wishing our lives away,” I thought to myself. Except tonight several hundred parents and children stood, on October 9, 2013 contemplating placements for September, 2014.

I find this just so ironic, considering mine is clearly not the only life that can’t plan a week in advance.

I put Meghan in a chair to rest her knees while I finished the last of my conversations with two lovely, helpful women. And as we began the trek back to the car I had a million questions racing through my head.

There is clearly a lot to do, and a lot to think about.

But, that will have to wait. Tomorrow’s appointment is in Long Island, and even when they try to fast forward my life, it reminds me that we can only travel one day at a time.

Almost Perfect… works for me!

Published on October 6, 2013 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

Poetry By Shel Silverstein

“Almost perfect… but not quite.”
Those were the words of Mary Hume
At her seventh birthday party,
Looking ’round the ribboned room.
“This tablecloth is pink not white–
Almost perfect… but not quite.”

“Almost perfect… but not quite.”
Those were the words of grown-up Mary
Talking about her handsome beau,
The one she wasn’t gonna marry.
“Squeezes me a bit too tight–
Almost perfect… but not quite.”

“Almost perfect… but not quite.”
Those were the words of ol’ Miss Hume
Teaching in the seventh grade,
Grading papers in the gloom
Late at night up in her room.
“They never cross their t’s just right–
Almost perfect… but not quite.”

Ninety-eight the day she died
Complainin’ ’bout the spotless floor.
People shook their heads and sighed,
“Guess that she’ll like heaven more.”
Up went her soul on feathered wings,
Out the door, up out of sight.
Another voice from heaven came–
“Almost perfect… but not quite.”

When you are a teacher you will sometimes find the craziest things echoing through your subconscious. Today, over and over I kept hearing the line, “Almost perfect… but not quite.” It wasn’t until a few minutes ago that an internet search led me to the poem above. A fan of Shel Silverstein for years – undoubtedly this is the message my “inner self” was trying to get across all day.

We woke up late this morning. Later than I wanted to. Well, let me rephrase that. I actually WANT to sleep VERY late, most of the time. However, the reality was that there were things to do, bills to pay, places to go and people to see.

So, I was a bit disgruntled early this morning. I struggle with this feeling most weekends. I want to badly to use my time wisely. I want to stop and smell the roses, but I battle with the consequences which leave me buried behind paperwork for home and school, bills to sort, letters to write, and laundry to do.

I am too often a bit like Mary Hume in the poem above.

I expect perfection, primarily of myself. I am always, and have always been, my own worst critic.

Why isn’t the house clean? Why aren’t all the bills paid? Why can’t I manage the money better? Why can’t I find time for fun? Why can’t I figure out an exercise schedule? Why can’t I get organized? Why does it take me so long to follow up on things? How come I can’t manage to keep up? Why don’t I see my family and friends more often? Why doesn’t Meghan feel well? Could I have gotten her to a better doctor? Are there better answers? WHY?

You can insert all sorts of things there, but my guess is that I am not alone. Although I kind of hope I am, because I am actively working to get out of that place. Its not healthy at all.

Because, really? Does it matter?

Don’t get me wrong. I am not at all suggesting that we just toss it all to the side and let everything go, but is the fact that I am one set of sheets behind because we went apple picking yesterday really the end of the world? I think not. In fact, I am sure the memories we made will stay with us far longer than (the horror) having to change the sheets on a Monday… or dust on a Wednesday… or just clean the floor, fan, window, when it’s dirty.

We got a roof 2 weeks ago. My screens are the dirtiest they have ever been. They will get washed.

It’s October 6th, I changed the calendar today. The world didn’t end because I missed the 1st.

I like order. I like neatness. And truth be told, with the medical battles, quests, and journeys I can not afford NOT to be organized. But, I am learning, or trying to learn not to obsess.

See everything changes on a moment’s notice. There are no guarantees. In our lives, where Cowden’s Syndrome is the proverbial Elephant in the Room at all times, this is especially apparent. But maybe in some way we have a bit of an advantage.

I plan ahead as best I can. I organize my files, my lesson plans, and my doctors appointments. I do all of this with the understanding that one day I may have to stop it all and address a health issue. So, when I can I spend a few extra moments being organized.

But, because we know all too well how fast things can change I am learning to stop. I am learning that its ok to make a rubber band bracelet some days, or to pick some pumpkins, or to watch the swim practice and marvel at the health that allows it to take place instead of burying myself in more work.

It’s not just our lives that can spin out of control. We just have notice that its “likely” to happen. I feel for the MANY, and I mean WAY TOO MANY people I know whose lives are spinning wildly as they try to gather themselves.

What do you do?

You have to get up and get moving and get about each day as best you can. You have to maintain some semblance of order. You have to pause.

In that quest for perfection we can lose ourselves all too quickly. We can miss it as it flies by.

Tonight I worked on the checkbook. I say “worked on.” I used to say “balanced,” but that would just be a lie. Yes, I am a math teacher. No, my checkbook is no longer to the penny. I just won’t sacrifice the extra hours. But its close enough that I haven’t bounced a check in 20 years.

Almost perfect… works for me.

There are way more important things that need my time.

Balance

Published on September 23, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

I am almost at the point where I have stopped waiting for the break. I am just about ready to stop wondering when there will be rest. I am almost ready – but not quite.

September as a teacher is a month full of new beginnings. One of the blessings of having a job that begins and ends each year is the “newness” that September brings with it. There is something special about meeting new students, or old friends after a summer vacation. There is something exciting about anxious eyes and new backpacks, and children eager to reconnect with friends.

So as I ran through September for about the 16th time, I took the time to appreciate the wonders and the smiles of the children around me- if only for a few fleeting moments. See, I remember September 16, and 15, and 14 years ago. I remember September when I was still a bit unsure of myself. I remember September before there was a husband, and a house, and a daughter, and 2 dogs, and 2 Cowden’s Syndrome diagnoses, and countless appointments, and surgeries, and medical bills, and paperwork at home to match the paperwork in school. I remember those early Septembers thinking I was overwhelmed. And, like so many things happen in life – looking back now I realize I had no idea.

This week we organized a new car, soon to be picked up. We got an antibiotic for the sore throat full of strep symptoms again. We got a new roof on the house. The new roof prompted a thorough cleaning of the entire second floor, which led to the Halloween decorations coming out a bit too early.

This weekend we packed up all of Meghan’s clothes – and I mean virtually all of them. We gave them to a beautiful family, and started over. She has grown this year several inches, has a foot as big as mine, and we will soon be sharing tops.

This weekend there were lessons to plan, IEPs to read, standards to sort through and a binder to prepare. I love my work, I really do. But the setup, and the stipulations placed on us from places way above us are exhausting in and of themselves.

This weekend there were bills to pay. A giant stack, somewhere in between a pile of mail that needed to be shredded and just to the right and a bit higher than the mountain of laundry in the middle of the basement floor.

Ok - so maybe not QUITE this bad.. — Ok – so maybe not QUITE this bad..

This weekend, in between cleaning and sorting, and laundry, and preparing food for the week, there was this headache. A nasty one that just wouldn’t quit. She started complaining Tuesday and it just persisted. And as life continued at its rapid pace, and constant motion, there was Meghan in bed for the better part of Saturday. No swim practice for her, always a gut wrenching decision, her body can not endure this pace of constant motion. And my heart, torn in two, kept a watchful eye on my girl as I continued the whirlwind.

I remember being her when I was younger. I remember watching my mom and sister in constant motion. I remember being sick the morning after a sleepover. I remember just not feeling well. But none of that, not any of it, makes me feel any better when it is my girl, sitting and hurting.

There is worry all around. I am aware of the friends and family struggling with illness of all types. I am aware of their angst and their hurt. And as much as I pray for peace for them, for their loved ones, for their healing I have to honestly say the biggest piece of my heart sits with my beautiful girl.

We help her rest. We feed her the most potent superfoods we can buy…

She is trapped in a schedule with no relief, in a body that sadly lacks stamina, with a syndrome that is angered by overwhelming fatigue. But what to give up? 5th grade promises to be fun, but busy. Then there is physical therapy – twice a week, and swim practice on the schedule 3 times a week. Plus doctors appointments, like the hand surgeon follow up in Manhattan on Thursday…

And while we work on her to keep her anxiety in check, there is always mine to look after. When you have a syndrome that grows tumors, nothing is ever without a high alert. A headache, probably allergies, but what if… The pain in the leg, probably a muscle pain, but what about the AVM… And if she could have an AVM in her knee, and her hand…

Life is about balance.

September is chaos. It just is.

But the nice thing about September is its followed by October.

And while I am not hopeful for huge amounts of downtime anywhere in the foreseeable future, I am confident we will sneak in some pumpkin and apple picking one day in the next few weeks.

And I am learning that while this Cowden’s Syndrome, and all its extra worry is going to linger forever, somehow, some way it seems to make the little moments that much better.

Maybe that’s where the balance comes in…

Race for the Cure!

Published on September 8, 2013September 8, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

I woke this morning to the sound of my dogs running back and forth through the house. They weren’t barking – just running.

The sound also woke Felix who is quicker in the mornings than I am.

“Weren’t you supposed to be up at 6?”

Gulp. Sure was. And that was my Mom at the door waiting to take Meghan and I to the Race for the Cure in Central Park.

As I quickly washed, my face, and changed my clothes. I let Felix see to Meghan. I was annoyed at myself for oversleeping. I purposely set the alarm on my cell phone so I would have to undo the lock screen to shut it down. Apparently I was THAT tired.

We have been going to this race for at least 15 years. Some of the participants have come and gone, but Mom and I have been there together… well except for 2003 when Meghan was just about a month old.

And, for the better part of the last 10 years Meghan has joined us. She was always so eager to support Grandma, that once I had the title of “Survivor” too she was determined to support us both.

Except last year. When she was sidelined. Sick with a fever early in the school year. As devastated as she was I convinced her this was the year that mattered. This was the year I could say I was a FULL year without my breast cancer.

Dates matter.

When Mom was first diagnosed in 1997, I wasn’t sure she would be ok. Although she battled through 2 mastectomies, and chemo, and 5 years of tamoxifen like a champ, it became important to celebrate the victories. The milestones. So Meghan has grown up watching me acknowledge Grandma’s “Pink Ribbon Anniversaries” three times a year. (First surgery, second surgery, end of chemo) And while the acknowledgements are small they are an understanding between us that we remember. We are grateful.

The race every September in Central Park was a natural outgrowth of that. A desire to celebrate. To be thankful. To remember.

Of course for me things feel a bit different sometimes. Last night I told my husband I sometimes feel guilty wearing the pink “Survivor” T shirt. He was perplexed. I explained that I didn’t feel like I “survived” chemo, or radiation, or any of the things most women go through. To which his sassy reply was, “You were tired of the old boobs? That’s why you had them cut off?”

See I wonder sometimes if would have been different if there was no cancer. If the mastectomy had indeed been prophylactic would that change the fact that a genetic predisposition – AKA Cowden’s Syndrome (in ADDITION to having a first degree relative with breast cancer,) had pretty much predetermined the fate of my breasts?

I have “met” in this virtual world, and now in my real life, quite a few “previvors” who have taken an empowered approach to their genetic predisposition and had a mastectomy, and/or a hysterectomy.

I would say they are as much “survivors” as anyone. Bravery, coupled with a desire to be there for your children and your family motivates these women to endure major surgery(ies.)

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/survivor The Free Dictionary.com has the following definition of Survivor…

sur·vive (sr-vv)

v. sur·vived, sur·viv·ing, sur·vives

v.intr.

1. To remain alive or in existence.

2. To carry on despite hardships or trauma; persevere: families that were surviving in tents after the flood.

3. To remain functional or usable: I dropped the radio, but it survived.

v.tr.

1. To live longer than; outlive: She survived her husband by five years.

2. To live, persist, or remain usable through: plants that can survive frosts; a clock that survived a fall.

3. To cope with (a trauma or setback); persevere after: survived child abuse.

So I put on my pink shirt, and we got out the door (t+Chai in hand) in just a few minutes. We blew into Manhattan and found a spot on the street close to the park.

We walked through the “Expo” which was a little thinner than most years, took a few pictures, and then it was time to walk.

Although the weather was beautiful, Mom’s pinched nerve is not cooperating the way she would like, so she took a shorter route as Meghan and I headed to the starting line.

For 3,2 miles, I pushed Meghan in her push chair. She made friends along the way. She met a police dog, and lots of nice ladies to whom she gave her “Cowden’s Card.” And every time she gave it out I thought – Cowden’s Syndrome is more rare than BRCA, but just as lethal, even more so in some ways. People should know. I reminded her how glad I was – to have her

there.

Just before the 3 mile mark we were joined by Grandma, and the three of us crossed the finish line together.

And as we walked under the pink balloon arch and turned towards the car I forced from my head the reality that we were now 2/3 pink. I looked at my little girl in her white shirt, about to start 5th grade tomorrow. I prayed for lots and lots of years for her to not have to worry about any of this. I thought about how much better she looks in white than pink. I searched my heart praying for a cure.

And in the depths of my soul I don’t go a day without considering her 85% lifetime breast cancer risk.

Dates are important.

Now March 5, 2012 gets added to our celebration list.

Life is uncertain. Celebrate the little victories together. They are what matters most.

Generous Heart

Published on September 4, 2013September 4, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

I’m not exactly sure how the idea got into her head. At some point Meghan learned it to be possible to donate your hair to make wigs for people who had no hair. And she decided that she wanted to do it.

For a bit of time it was talk. We spoke about when it would be a good time, if her hair was long enough, and how it would feel to lose so much hair. Then she got serious.

Sometime right after school ended she decided it was time. So, we went to a new hair salon and had her hair measured.

“Close,” they said. “Come back in about 2 months.”

And, as summers go, time passes and 2 months is gone. We made the appointment for today so she would have time to “adjust” to the new hair if she wasn’t happy.

She was anxious but determined. Confident that it was the right thing to do – she bravely sat in the chair. Her hair was measured to ensure it reached the necessary 10 inches.

Then, even I held my breath as the pony tail was cut off.

And as the hair fell down, the smile of relief sprang up. She saw the life bounce into her hair. She knew it would all be OK.

As she looked at her new cut, and adjusted to the reality that she had just done something HUGE for someone in need, I couldn’t help be overwhelmed with pride.

Once again, my girl led me by example. Once again her bravery is unmatched.

You see last Friday we found a small bald spot on the top of her head.

Yesterday Meghan got the formal diagnosis of “Alopecia Areata.” It hasn’t got a blessed thing to do with Cowden’s Syndrome. Although being affected BY Cowden’s Syndrome has made us all more aware of the needs of others who suffer. The denim ribbon we wear each day is a reminder of the Global Genes Project, and a search for cures, or at least awareness of ALL rare diseases.

Stress can trigger this unpredictable autoimmune hair loss.

We can hope the spot was a reality check for all of us. A reminder to try to take some deep breaths along the bumpy road we travel.

We kept it from Meghan for the weekend, but as we headed to the dermatologist Tuesday the conversation had to happen. We go through too much here not to have each other’s trust. I answer questions as briefly as she allows, but I always answer honestly.

There is no way to know what path it will take, if this will (hopefully) be the end, or the beginning. Alopecia Areata is a life-long condition. It may stop now and rest forever. Or maybe it won’t. We just don’t know.

But we are kind of used to that around here. There are no “plans” anymore. Only guesses, and hopes, and prayers.

And thankfully we live with the confidence that there is a greater plan than any of us can wrap our heads around.

For now, some beautiful little girl will soon receive a wig made in part by Meghan’s beautiful, curly hair.

Keeping It Together

Published on September 2, 2013September 2, 2013 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

When it’s all about to fall apart, what is a mother to do to hold it all together?

Anything she possibly can!

Months ago I wrote a blog about how Cowden’s Syndrome changed… my phone. And its true. I could not manage the appointments and chronic craziness without Siri, my BFF.

And, when the navigation in my car quits, which it often does, Siri is the one to get me home.

So how did Cowden’s Syndrome change my entire way of eating?

After our diagnoses in the fall of 2011, my dear husband ate his way through his stress. I can’t blame him. Imminent cancer risks for your young daughter. Thyroid nodules galore. Biopsies every 6 months. Vascular problems. Pain. A wife facing a mastectomy, and subsequently a cancer diagnosis, and a hysterectomy. Tumors on her spleen… and the list goes on.

By November of 2011 he was here.

I had known him since 1997 and had seen his weight fluctuate from attempt after attempt to get the stress eating in check. Being a big attractive guy, he was able to disguise his weight very well for most of the “ups.” But I knew this level of yo-yo dieting was not good for him. I also knew we needed him, strong and by our sides.

My husband is soft-spoken, and talks to very few people by his own choosing. I had to get his permission before I hit “publish” on this one. But if you listen carefully when he does talk, he always has valuable advice and a story to tell.

Some time over the winter of 2011, into early 2012… maybe it was right after my double mastectomy in March of 2012, he had a revelation. While sitting uncomfortably on the couch one night, he tried to move a pillow out of his way. Only to realize it was his waist.

A month after that during a physical he left the doctor’s office with prescriptions for his high triglycerides, his high blood pressure and his high cholesterol. Darned if I was going to put MORE junk in his body we went to a trusted cardiologist. He told Felix there was nothing wrong with him that losing 50 pounds wouldn’t fix. He gave him a script for a prescription strength fish oil. We tossed the other scripts in the trash.

That was the moment of truth, and we went on a hunt together for what would help.

Fortune, and opportunity, and the grace of God had placed a new friend in our lives that year. She was a blessing to Meghan, but subsequently to all of us. She had begun her Isagenix journey that year and was seeing incredible success.

For years I knew that diet and nutrition were the key to so many things. Meghan never even spoke until we removed gluten, dairy and soy from her diet at the age of 2. We saw her developmental delays resolve as her stomach quieted. We moved mountains to feed this kid right, and provide her with nutritional supplementation of only the highest quality. As I listened to my new friend describe Isagenix, I heard words I already knew to be true. This company had everything I knew about nutrition – ready to help my husband.

So we started him on the “30 Day Cleansing and Fat Burning System.” Within days he reported feeling better. He was expressing clarity of mind. He had energy. He had less of a desire to eat junk. His palate was changing and he was fighting me for the rest of the vegetables at dinner.

I was amazed, grateful, and impressed. But not surprised. It all made sense. Put maple syrup in your car’s engine and you ruin it. Run it of pure gasoline, change the oil regularly, and you are golden. Why would we treat our bodies any less efficiently?

Over the next 11 months I dutifully adjusted his “autoship” so that the products would arrive at our home ever 29 days. He modified the portions of the program that work for him, and he woke up in August on his 40th birthday 50 pounds lighter than he had been over 18 months before.

For the first time, in the 17 years I have known him, the weight is GONE. RELEASED – not lost. It will NOT be found again.

He tells me this is not a “diet” but a lifestyle change. He will not start his morning without his shake and his ionix vitamin. He will not go more than 3 weeks without a “nutritional cleanse” that is the lifeblood of why this works. (Nutritional Cleansing releases toxins from the body. Without that release of toxins your body begins to hold onto the weight again.)

http://www.isagenix.com/us/en/areyoutoxic.dhtml

After all of this regulating the autoship, and paying monthly for high quality nutrition, some time in May I looked up and realized I was missing a HUGE piece of this.

First of all, I ordered myself some meal bars, a few shakes, and some E+shots. My body, stressed to the max, even though it was thin – needed nutrition badly. I was able to eliminate my diet soda habit – something I had tried to do for years with no success. I can not stomach dyes and junk foods I used to live on. My body just WANTS the real stuff.

Then they came out with a shake that would meet Meghan’s needs.

And then we were three consuming Isagenix, and feeling better each day. What an amazing thing to listen to your ten-year old TELL you when she NEEDS a shake. I am convinced the only reason she can swim the way she does is because she refuels with Isagenix.

So, what does a family benefiting from a product do?

They talk. Finally. After all that I finally got around to telling people of our success. Of the quality of these products. Of the positive life changes.

And people wanted to know more. So I learned more. And I helped them. And they are getting healthy too. What a rewarding feeling.

I have had to contend with the negative folks along the way. The ones who whisper, “That’s a multilevel marketing company..” as if that made it evil?

Yes. Isagenix is a multilevel marketing company. There is no mystery, And no one tried to hide it. There is no one breathing down your neck to sell or share the products, and you are free to purchase and use for as long as you like. We did it for 11 months. But if you share (which is what I learned to do as a small child in school – simply share) and you help others, you get rewarded for that.

Then I signed someone up. And they were happy. And I felt good. And then another, and another.

And before I knew it there was this Visa card on my desk with money on it. Money I had earned from telling our story. Money I can use to do whatever I’d like.

It got easier and easier.

You see people say to me, as I had said to my friend, “I am not a sales person.” Me either. I am sure I couldn’t sell knives, or vacuums, or other random products. What I CAN do is tell the truth. I do it well. My candid honesty ties into my “take me or leave me” philosophy. I have no time for nonsense or drama in my life.

But now I tell people, quite honestly, that I don’t pay for my Isagenix. We eat MORE products than ever, and we eat them for FREE. Now in my 8 years of buying nutritious food, THIS is a new concept.

And I like it.

Isagenix has changed all of our lives in different ways. And we have all benefited. Felix needs to be strong for Meghan and I. And my Cowden’s Syndrome buddy and I, with our tendency towards cancer, tumor growth and a whole host of other problems, need to give our bodies pure nutrition so we have the strength to stay healthy.

We are now, and forever an Isagenix family.

It’s one of the strategies we use to keep it all together.

We can help you too!

Worn

Published on September 1, 2013September 1, 2013 by beatingcowdens3 Comments

“Worn”

I’m tired

I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that You can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That You can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m wornI know I need to lift my eyes up
But I’m too weak
Life just won’t let up
And I know that You can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have leftLet me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That You can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zulKcYItKIA

This has been the summer that… well…

It has definitely been a few extra stressful weeks, and not at all the relaxation we had so desperately hoped for and needed in June.

But, like it or not time marches on, and here we are in the middle of Labor Day weekend.

When we started the summer my daughter had 2 basic requests.

1. Go to the beach.

2. Go to Philadelphia.

Not so hard right?

And then we looked at the calendar about to change to September and realized between appointments, procedures, tests and surgery – we never got either one done.

Stress is very individual in how it affects each of us. We all have stress. We all deal with it differently. But I think that the reality that stress can, and does manifest in real physical illness is often lost on us. Especially lost is the harsh reality that stress can make our CHILDREN sick – until it smacks you in the face.

It became clear this week that the stress is weighing heavily on Meghan. She is one tough chick, but there is only so much the mind and body of a really cute, smart, well behaved 10-year-old should have to endure. It is now the top priority of her father and I to actively work on lowering her stress level.

We started today.

Months ago we purchased tickets to see the Contemporary Christian band, “Tenth Avenue North” in concert in Ocean Grove New Jersey on August 31st. We decided to make a day out of it – or a half day at least!

We let Meghan sleep as late as her body needed. (Falling asleep has become terribly hard again.) Then she got to watch some TV. I ran a few errands, and around 3 with a cooler full of cold cuts for “dinner” we set out to surprise her with a trip to the beach.

We never told Meghan our plan, although it was obvious she was secretly hoping for the beach. We just know too many factors can get in the way on a moment’s notice. So, it wasn’t until we were looking for parking that we even told her.

By then it was 4:15. The perfect time to take a kid who is not really sure she likes the beach, to the beach.

Crowds were waning, and as we set up our blanket she had some time to adjust to the seagulls, and the sand between her toes.

Forever my texture phobic kid, truth be told the sand in the toes was the reason I stopped really bringing her to the beach years ago. But today there was a mission to put her toes in the water and collect shells with Mom and Dad.

She walked with Mom. Then she walked with Dad. And for a few glorious minutes I laid my head on the towel and remembered my childhood days in Ocean City,NJ. I listened to the waves, felt the sand between my toes, and felt such PEACE!

Don't hate my polka dots - my husband did them for me! :-) — Don’t hate my polka dots – my husband did them for me! 🙂

We have a small bag with some beautiful shells.

We even played some with her Nerf frisbee. There was laughing, and smiling, and a good deal of stating and restating that the sand on her toes does NOT feel nice.

With some gentle prodding she came around, but was perfectly happy with 2 cool hours on the beach. So glad I didn’t get a full day plan in place!

What we did NOT do was have a picnic lunch on the beach as planned. Instead, we ate in the car. Sea gulls, being nothing more than glorified pigeons would have undoubtedly created significant reflux for my girl. So, we had Board Head chicken breast in the car, with potato chips, and had a great conversation – minus the sea gulls.

We walked the streets of Ocean Grove for a bit, and I saw the sign:

And somehow I knew we had done things right – today.

We headed over to the Great Auditorium for the concert. We happily bought our girl her first concert T-shirt, and her “Tenth Avenue North” Bracelet. In-scripted inside the bracelet are words from the cover song off their newest CD, “The Struggle.” It reads, “We are free to struggle, but we’re not struggling to be free.” She is sleeping with it on right now.

The show was amazing. Meghan was enthralled. They are quite the performers.

Meghan and I often sing along to their songs on the radio. Our favorites are “Worn,” and “Healing Begins”

“Healing Begins”

So you thought you had to keep this up
All the work that you do
So we think that you’re good
And you can’t believe it’s not enough
All the walls you built up
Are just glass on the outside

So let ’em fall down
There’s freedom waiting in the sound
When you let your walls fall to the ground
We’re here now

This is where the healing begins, oh
This is where the healing starts
When you come to where you’re broken within
The light meets the dark
The light meets the dark…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qe1yKciSlT4

The lead singer also spent some time talking to the audience about God’s plans. He told the story of a car accident his Senior year of High School where everyone thought he would die, and no one thought he would recover fully.

That 32-year-old man with a wife and 2 daughters spoke definitively tonight about believing God will use the adversity to grow greater things. He told us he touched a guitar for the first time at 18 while he was waiting to heal from his accident. Clearly, God had a plan.

I was touched by the story, but more moved by Meghan’s reaction. She HUNG on his every word. She was thinking – deeply.

Then she asked if I had any of the “Cowden’s cards.” And, God bless this girl she walked right up to the stage and handed them to one of the back up band members… alone.

“I just thought they should have them Mom, in case they want to read…”

This card was created out of her need to "teach" others about Cowden's Syndrome. — This card was created out of her need to “teach” others about Cowden’s Syndrome.

You know the irony with this darned Cowden’s syndrome is that what you NEED is to be away from doctors, because they cause STRESS which prompts other conditions that cause you to NEED doctors.

So, a few days after the hand became free, we are on the hunt for the solution to more developing problems.

Stress. We do what we can to deal.

We use music. We enjoy time together.

We try harder to get it right. We hug each other. We hold each other.

I still haven’t given up on a road trip to Philly. (If only I can get my navigation system to work…)

When Pigs Fly

Published on August 24, 2013 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

At the very end of school I received this gift from a 4th grade student of mine. I think it is probably one of my favorite gifts in my 17 years teaching. Small and delicate, yet tough and determined. Not much for collecting things, but this was a keeper.

Meghan continues to battle her way through the pain of recovery. She rests and reads and watches TV to pass the time. She is tolerating the pain a bit better, although the reality there was a scalpel scraping scar tissue off the ligament and nerve in the center of her palm is not lost on her every few hours as the medication starts to wear off.

The day we came home I explained to her (again) about how Cowden’s Syndrome likes to “overgrow” things. We talked about “hyper-healing,” and her body’s desire to overproduce cells to try and solve a trauma. That is a crude explanation of our tumor growth. That same crude explanation can be used to explain why some Cowden’s patients have a prevalence of scar tissue. Every time there is a surgery, or an injury the body over works, and sometimes the result can be just as bad as the original problem.

Overcoming impossible odds. I like the way that sounds. The overcoming part, that is.

So, we talked about range of motion and the need to keep on moving those fingers so the scar tissue doesn’t form and stiffen things up. She knows she will need therapy. She is used to that. She did not like the thought that her range of motion could be affected permanently if she didn’t move.

With raw determination she wiggles her fingers. Several times an hour I watch her wince in pain. No one tells her to. She just knows she has to, and she doesn’t like the thought of the alternative.

See its all about the swimming. Her sport. Her niche. Her comfort zone. Nothing will keep her out of the water for long.

The pain exhausts her. She has circles under her eyes, not from doing much other than being in pain. But for those of you who live with chronic pain – you know that it wipes you out. So she sleeps. 13 hours when she can. Better for the healing I am sure.

When I was dusting this afternoon I came across my friend Penelope Pig, and I thought of how relevant she is.

I thought of all the times in my young life I uttered sarcastically the phrase, “When pigs fly!”

I thought of my arrogance and how little I knew about the important things on life – the things worth fighting for.

I realized in all its ridiculousness, it can actually be a poignant phrase.

I’m going to let this surgery stand in my way – WHEN PIGS FLY!

I’m going to stop swimming – WHEN PIGS FLY!

It fits for so many things in life.

So many other things on my mind. So many thoughts all garbled up inside.

Sometimes I feel like we are running on raw nerve, on sheer will and determination.

And guess what – we will give up….

WHEN PIGS FLY!

Recovery

Published on August 22, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

Recovery.

We should be professionals around here. We should just get up, get going and move on.

But we are human.

We hurt, inside and out.

We get tired, and lonely.

We understand the tired and lonely that others have too – but some days it doesn’t make ours better.

Some days its hard to look at things from someone else’s point of view.

And that’s OK.

This one is a favorite of a dear internet friend :-) — This one is a favorite of a dear internet friend 🙂

Meghan is full of exhaustion and pain and conflicting emotions.

It’s annoying to realize you blew your whole summer at doctors and in surgery.

Thankfully we snuck in that Disney trip.

I can, and I do, take solace from my Facebook friends- the ones I know for real, and the web of Cowden’s survivors I have become intertwined with.

She has a smaller network. Mostly because I don’t think she is capable of realizing the effect she has on the lives of so many others.

Yet, she is my hero. And my rockstar.

I shuffled her around these last few days a lot more than I wanted to. But, she likes to stay close by me when she is hurting.

So yesterday we picked up the car. Apparently the “Magic Wand Guy” (Field tech) ran out of pixie dust. He declared my car “not broken.” Ironic because 2 weeks ago the same shop who held it for 10 days said they couldn’t fix it.

It’s definitely still broken. On to the arbitration with the Better Business Bureau. Just in case someone thought we might rest. No worries. Gloves are on.

She went with Felix and I for our physicals last night.

Then this morning, she went to work with me for a bit, and to pick up some of Daddy’s medical records. (Really WHAT was I thinking staying close to home for a doctor?)

She is tired. But she smiles. And she hugs us. And she asks for pain medicine. And she wiggles her fingers. And she looks at her pool, and the calendar, and she feels the inevitable.

I can’t stop it. No one can.

So we keep busy. We rest. I stay close by. We giggle and make jokes. If I had to “lose” a summer, I couldn’t have lost it with a better young lady!

Recovery.

No worries – WE GOT THIS!