Cowden syndrome – Page 30

“Next Year…”

Published on February 28, 2013February 28, 2013 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

We left the house today with only the normal jitters. We even had time for a few family photos.

I have been teaching for 16 years.

I have addressed hundreds of students, if not thousands through the years.

I pride myself on being able to get their attention with minimal effort, and keeping it in most cases.

Sometimes it can be a bit more trying – like a full auditorium, as opposed to a closed classroom, but with the right presence and message, it can be done.

I did not get to hear Meghan’s speech today first hand. I was thrilled to see her happy smile when I picked her up. I knew she felt it had gone well, and that was most of the battle won.

While she was doing her homework I watched the recording her para had kindly made for me. I was awestruck.

Not only was I impressed with my little girl, and the clam, confident way she spoke, I was AMAZED by the quiet in the auditorium.

Now I know they are taught good manners, but this went beyond that. She HAD them. They cared about what she was saying. They were interested to learn about Cowden’s Syndrome. They were hanging on her words. The applause at the end confirmed it. She nailed it. Public speaking is not an issue for my girl.

The day followed with a Skype call to her friend Connor in Colorado. They struggled with the video feed, but they had audio and will try again next week for the video.

I know its only the US, but “Rare Disorders without Borders” here we come!

HUGE smile. Giant fatigue. Her day was a success. And now, tomorrow, she will give her speech all over again to the 4th and 5th graders – her peers. May it run just as smoothly!

Meanwhile, back at my school – the ribbons were distributed. The jeans were on. The kids were charged.

Many of them even decorated their doors with the Global Genes Project – denim ribbons. This was a huge school spirit event. I received cards, letters, and even a pack of thank you notes from one class. It was beyond touching to see my colleagues, supervisor, and students, all in their jeans with their denim ribbons.

“Hope it’s in our Genes”

We clearly are not alone.

All day long the photos came in. My Facebook page was hopping.

My nephew’s PreK staff on Long Island, my friend’s Catholic School on Staten Island, a few ribbons to a local HS, junior class at another school wearing theirs to support a family member. My sister had hers at work, and so did some dear friends.

“Next year…”

Next year can we do a fund raiser too?

Next year can we involve more schools? Maybe all of Staten Island?

Next year…

I got tons of requests, and offers of help. We know LOTS of really great people.

Next year, maybe we will help raise awareness even more.

But this year, tonight. I am tired.

I am grateful.

We are smiling. We are blessed.

Right now, Tylenol for her pain. TLC for her nerves.

There will be time to plan for next year…

This is it!

Published on February 27, 2013February 27, 2013 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

Yesterday was another trip to the rheumatologist. She is lovely, but hasn’t a bit of a clue why Meghan’s pain persists – often through the Celebrex, and ALWAYS without it.

She prescribes the medicine. She examines her. She sees no signs of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.

We speak for a little bit about Cowden’s Syndrome, her thyroid, and some of the other battles she has endured. I ask the doctor if this could all be related.

And she, candidly, honestly replies, “I don’t know. I am starting to think there is some link, but I don’t know enough about your syndrome to put it together.”

Well at least she is honest. But it is tiresome. The traveling. The doctors. The lack of answers.

So tonight, as I gave Meghan Tylenol after swim practice because the knee pain wouldn’t cut her a break. We turned our thoughts to tomorrrow, and the 6th Annual World Rare Disease Day.

This year’s motto is “Rare Disorders without Borders.” It got Meghan and I to thinking about how nice it would be if doctors in all the countries would share their research. There are so many rare diseases throughout the world. So many more dire than our own. There are so few people even looking for cures. As she chats and gets to know a girl in Australia with Cowden’s, we can’t help but think about how much more voice each of our disorders would have “without borders.”

http://www.rarediseaseday.org/solidarity (This link takes you to a video on Rare Disease Day)

We talked a little about the newspaper article, and how it has helped spread awareness in out community. We talked about all the ribbons we have made and distributed, and how nice it will be to see them tomorrow, and know we are not alone. We have raised awareness of Rare Diseases, and we have only just begun.

http://www.silive.com/northshore/index.ssf/2013/02/staten_island_9-year-old_and_h.html (This is a link to our article from the SI Advance – February 20th)

Meghan, and her determination will see her dream of the “One of a kind” necklace with the Global Genes Project Logo, find its way into their new store. She will see more and more people recognizing that “Hope is in our Genes,” and the denim ribbon gives an identity to those who too often have none.

Tomorrow people will understand what it means to “Wear That You Care,” as they don their jeans locally and globally.

My daughter, one of the compassionate people I know, is also the least judgmental. She is kind. Because she knows what it means to need kindness. She is kind because she has faith, and wisdom gifted to her. She is kind because, “You can’t tell by looking at someone if they are sick or in pain.”

We share a genetic mutation. I am her mother. She is my role model and my hero.

She makes me a better person.

Wear your jeans – February 28th, 2013.

Meghan Speaks Out!

Published on February 25, 2013 by beatingcowdens8 Comments

Maybe tonight I would have to call Meghan the “Guest Blogger.”

What you read below is her speech. She was asked to prepare something to read for her school for “Rare Disease Day” on Thursday. She is an excellent public speaker, and fights only a few “butterflies” before she speaks. She always makes me so proud. I wish I could be there!

The text of the speech was written by her. I typed it, and then she went back in and changed it again. I added the pictures… just for here – because I like to!

She will review the speech with her principal tomorrow, but I don’t expect many changes.

When did my baby grow up?

**********************************************************************************************************

Some of you, who know me, know me as Meghan Ortega. Or, maybe you know me as Meghan from 4^th grade, or Meghan from Mrs. Worsdale’s and Mrs. LaMonaca’s class.

You might, if you know me a little better, know me as Meghan who loves to read, and swim. You might know me as Meghan who loves dogs.

Maybe you know that I have 2 dogs that I love, and a mom who is a teacher and a dad who is an electrician.

Lucky, Meghan and Allie - My three girls — Lucky, Meghan and Allie – My three girls

But, until today, very few of you knew that I am Meghan Ortega and I suffer with a Rare Disease called Cowden’s Syndrome.

Until September of 2011 I didn’t know I had this Rare Disease. What I did know was that something was wrong and my body was far from that of a “normal” kid.

For as long as I can remember, every week of my life has included AT LEAST one doctor’s appointment, and lots of times even more.

You’ve all been to the doctor and you know it’s not fun. It involves waiting and waiting…and even more waiting. It also involves poking and prodding. For me, it often means being sent to more and more and more doctors…

My mom says when I was a baby I wasn’t really comfortable, and I cried all the time. I almost never slept, and wouldn’t drink my bottle.

When we talk about it now, we think my body knew I couldn’t handle dairy products, and dairy is in milk.

Mom also tells me that I started seeing lots of doctors when I was just a few weeks old. Soon there were doctors to check almost every part of my body.

I have had 9 surgeries. I remember having my gall bladder out before I turned 4. I also had a lipoma (a soft tissue tumor that people with Cowden’s Syndrome get.)

I had knee surgery 4 times for an AVM in my right knee. An AVM is a vascular malformation. It is also common in Cowden’s Syndrome. It feels very strange because it pulses like your heart beat. Every time I had that surgery the doctor thought I wouldn’t need another one. But they have already done 4, and they are not sure if the AVM will ever go away, so I will probably need more.

Because I am in pain so much, I get physical therapy in and out of school. My outside physical therapist, Dr. Jill told Mom that she should take me to see a geneticist. I didn’t really understand what that was, but we went because that is just what I do.

Dr.Pappas at NYU was really nice. He examined me and he talked to me and mom. When he was done he drew some blood. He said he was pretty sure of what I had, but we had to wait for the test results.

In September of 2011, just as I was starting 3^rd grade, we went back to his office and he told us that I have Cowden’s Syndrome. It means that my PTEN gene is broken. Your body is made up of all sorts of genes, but these are G-E-N-E-S, not J-E-A-N-S like the ones you wear. PTEN is the gene that keeps your body from growing tumors. Because mine is broken I get more growths, like the AVM, the lipoma, and the nodules on my thyroid that I have to have checked every 6 months.

As soon as I was diagnosed, the doctor talked to my mom and said she probably had Cowden’s too. He took her blood and a few weeks later she tested positive.

Because of the Cowden’s my mom had lots of tests done, and it explained a lot of things about the 17 surgeries she has had. On March 5^th it will be a year since she had surgery for breast cancer. She is just fine. She says that knowing she had Cowden’s helped her find it early. She says to everyone that my diagnosis saved her life.

When I am here at school I smile a lot. I don’t like to dwell on anything bad. We spend enough time with doctors so I try to enjoy my time with kids.

You would probably never know by looking at me, that I am in pain a lot. I take medicine every day that helps my joints hurt less than they used to, but still most days I have pain. It is hard for me to climb up the stairs, and play at recess, but I do it.

We first heard about “World Rare Disease Day” last year, but at the time we were a little too stunned to do anything about it.

This year I told my mom I wanted to do something to make people more aware of Cowden’s Syndrome and all rare diseases. I was not ready yet to do a fund raiser – I just wanted to get the word out that Rare Diseases like ours exist. There are over 7,000 of them!

I shared my idea with Mrs. Manfredi and she said I could give out the ribbons and information you received today. I was really excited.

“Hope it’s in our genes” is the motto of the Global Genes Project. They try to raise awareness and find cures for all rare diseases.

Today I think it’s important for you to know you can’t ever really judge someone by how they look on the outside. You never know what’s going on inside of them.

Be kind.

Be aware.

Rare Diseases are everywhere.

Thank you

** By Meghan – Age 9!

This one’s for you Mom – HAPPY SWEET 16!

Published on February 24, 2013February 24, 2013 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

This one’s for you Mom.

My Mom doesn’t have Cowden’s Syndrome. The tests confirmed that.

What she does have is strength, stamina, and courage unrivaled by most. She is a tough cookie. An inspiration with her determination. Not once throughout her life have I ever known her to give up.

Mom is a survivor.

Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was a survivor of life.

She survived a divorce, two jobs, and raising 2 kids alone – with the help of my grandparents.

She survived sleepless nights, and worry.

She battled for her kids- fought doctors, insurance companies and the like. And, she even battled with us on occasion… If you can imagine that!

Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was my Mom. And she taught some valuable lessons I still use today.

(My sister posted the other day that “Some days I open my mouth and my mother comes out!”)

These are her words coming out of me these days….

But God is good - all the time! — But God is good – all the time!

And….

I really think I am OK with this concept, but we all need a reminder sometimes!

When my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer I was 23. I was scared. She might have been scared, but she attacked it with her “matter of fact” attitude that I think is what has gotten her so far.

She went for her first mastectomy on February 24th of 1997. She was just 48. The second mastectomy followed in April when cancer was found in the other breast. 6 months of chemo followed. 5 years of Tamoxifen followed that.

And she just kept right on going. Even though some days she felt like this…

Truth be told, maybe we all did. But I did what I could to help out with her, around the house, and with my little sister. I was really just amazed by her drive. But I think I still am.

Last year when I was scheduled for my mastectomy, the surgeon asked me who had been with my mother during hers. I told her my dad and I had. She said, “Well call mom and tell her its time to return the favor.”

I called her on the ride home and although I can’t imagine it was an easy call to take. She never flinched. She took the week off that I had the surgery (a HUGE compliment from someone who sparsely misses a day of work.) My recovery went so smoothly. And I had some of the best conversations of my life with Mom that week.

When my pathology returned DCIS, she was the first one I called. Neither of us were surprised. And, yet her reassuring words, that she knew I had “done the right thing,” gave me such peace.

Before Mom was diagnosed she dreaded turning 50. After all she had been through she embraced 50 with grace and charm, and a few years ago gave 60 a great big hug.

Mom's 64th birthday - and 4 generations of tough ladies! — Mom’s 64th birthday – and 4 generations of tough ladies!

This is a picture from her 64th birthday a few weeks ago.

My mom may not be like everyone else’s. She can be a tough lady. She hasn’t had an easy life. But she has a heart of gold. And I love her for who she is.

As I grow I realize everyone does the best they can with what they have where they are.

I am thankful – so thankful – for these last 16 years with my Mom. I am grateful she got to know my daughter. I look forward to having her around for a long time.

A mother bonds with all her children, and she is close with my sisters – differently than how we are close. That’s what makes each relationship special.

We share some things that can’t be put into words…

Just past the finish line. Aren't we "Pretty in Pink?" :-) — Just past the finish line. Aren’t we “Pretty in Pink?” 🙂

She will always be my friend. I hope she knows just how much she is loved.

Happy Start to your 16th year - CANCER FREE! — Happy Start to your 16th year – CANCER FREE!

Priceless!

Published on February 19, 2013February 19, 2013 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

Waking up before the rest of my family on a vacation day – 2 cups of caffeine.

Filling the car with gas- $50.

Traveling through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel $13 roundtrip.

Parking for 4 hours – $25.

Two doctor Copays $20 each.

Trip across the Verazanno Bridge… about $6 with my EZpass.

But, the news from the dermatologist that I can stretch the visits a whole year, combined with the news from the breast surgeon that “everything looks great and I will see you in 6 months!”

ABSOLUTELY PRICELESS!

So we cross small hurdles gleefully.

We had 7 appointments carefully scheduled for this week to avoid time off from work/school. Three doctors apparently realized last week they have kids at home and cancelled. So this concise week of appointments will stretch a bit, but I have begun scheduling the 11 doctors and 4 scans I can remember that are due in June/July.

I will do everything in my power to consolidate them.

Cowden’s Syndrome WILL NOT run our lives.

We are actively preparing for RARE DISEASE DAY…. (FEBRUARY 28th – Get your denim ready!)

Until Friday when we see the vascular surgeon about that pesky AVM…

Anxiety- an after effect, or a symptom?

Published on February 16, 2013February 16, 2013 by beatingcowdens8 Comments

An interesting “conversation” in one of my online groups this week, regarding increased levels of anxiety and depression conected to PTEN mutations.

This is really how I view the race against Cowden's Syndrome — This is really how I view the race against Cowden’s Syndrome

One of those conversations that make you wonder if it is better to be validated or to fight the idea that this perpetual anxious feeling is actually hardwired into your genes.

I looked up the articles too. I love to read for myself. The experiments are done on mice. I suppose there aren’t enough of us to get a controlled group for a good study, (although there is a drug called rapamycin being studied on humans – but that’s for a different day.) But, among other symptoms the mice in their mazes did show marked increase in anxiety. Although. I have to imagine if I was a mouse in a maze I might get nervous too…

Now I have a lot of throughts on this.

I have always been a worrier – highly anxious about most things. Anyone who knows me knows that to be true.

But, conversely – throughout large portions of my life there has definitely been something to worry about.

So, as the chicken/egg thing goes -do I worry because anxiety is a part of Cowden’s syndrome, and even before my diagnosis I have had Cowden’s? Or do I have acute bouts of anxiety because having Cowden’s gives me so much to be anxious about?

The best answer probably is – both.

I am a rational person by all rights. Even in the middle of my worst anxiety I can stop and think and KNOW that my fears are irrational. I can have the absolute belief that God will continue to care for the situation, and for my loved ones, yet still it is often like a crushing weight on my chest, making it hard t0 think, breathe or move.

What I have on my side is that I was raised to keep on keeping on. Thanks Mom, and Grandma and Pop especially… when the going got tough, we were taught to keep going. So while I comfort myself with verses about tomorrow having enough worries of its own, and while I am faced with horrendous tragedies of things that cannot be controlled, I am able to press on.

So I can function, and the anxiety does not cripple me. And, I know the “nature vs. nurture” reasons to explan it.

But I do know that my daughter suffers too. Not just with a PTEN mutation, and Cowden’s Syndrome, but also with anxiety. She is a worrier, “just like her mother” they say. Yep. Maybe she is like me because of genetics, or my example. I can’t really know for sure.

So what to do?

For me, the first step is just acceptance.

I am a worrier.

Regardless of the cause, and allthe logical justifications I can give myself – I will remain a worrier.

Then, find an outlet. I am still working on this one. I am thinking I like to write – so maybe that will help some. I would like to get a few minutes to myself now and again. I used to love to walk. Maybe one day there will be time for some nice long walks.

I meditate a bit on the bright side. Be grateful for the “good” that comes with a chronic illness like Cowden’s Syndrome. I am not referring to the pain, and the surgeries, and the cancers looming, but rather to the “warning” system built in. Parents would do anything to protect thier children. How blessed am I that even among the strain of ceaseless appointments and hours waiting at offices and for results, we have a warning system. I am confident that if we are vigilant, the Cowden’s won’t “get us.”

Stay organized. Don’t let the bills, the list of phone calls, the shredding, or the sorting to pile up. It will just keep coming.

Stay ahead of the school projects. You never can tell where tomorrow is going to land us.

Laugh. Often. It is deeply good not only for the anxiety, but also for the soul.

Recognize you have lots to smile about.

Acknowledge the pain of others and “Pay it Forward” when you can. I find that NOT dwelling on our lives here, helps make me less anxious.

Did the Cowden’s cause the anxiety? Is it hard wired into who I am as a person? Is Meghan destined to be forever wondering and worrying? Or, did a life of doctor’s appointments, pain, chronic disease, and general worry, create the anxiety?

It really doen’t matter because it is here. It is part of me, and to la large extent – us. I doubt it is going anywhere. I think its just my job to control the beast the best way I can, one day at a time.

Crying is OKAY here

Published on February 13, 2013 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

I cried today. Yep. That was it. Couldn’t hold it in one second longer so I pulled the car into a lot. Thankfully I was alone. And I rolled up all the windows, locked the doors – and sobbed.

It only lasted about 10 minutes, but I caught a wicked headache, and a bit of stress release from that good old-fashioned hissy fit.

I generally make a habit of not allowing them. I am a look at the bright side of life kind of girl. I like to remind myself about others who have it worse, and try to put myself in other people’s shoes. It usually works.

Today the emotion got the better of me. And its OK.

Work was stressful.

Supporting my dear husband while he works his tail off three nights a week at school is well worth it, but stressful for all of us.

Homework. Constant. Ever changing. Tests that need to be studied for. Worry about things not yet complete. Yep, its only 4th grade. The teachers are lovely. The stress is really almost unreal.

Today we went to the Urgi center for X-rays of a foot and ankle that has been bothering Meghan since dance class Monday. She limped for 2 days before I thought – negligent mother should have a doctor take a look. Sprained. Takes time. (Besides the 2 hours out of the afternoon.)

In addition to Cowden’s Syndrome, Meghan has a few other neat things. One of her diagnoses is “Benign Hypermobile Joint Syndrome.” Great – if you can manage your flexibility. If you can’t it leads to all sorts of random injuries. We keep a really good PT around… just because.

But, if I am really really honest – I don’t think any of these things pushed me over into that screaming sobbing cry I so desperately needed. I think it was sadness. Sadness, mixed with raw fear.

Last night I sat with a friend and her 7th grade son at the wake for the little boy who died last week. I couldn’t for a minute imagine that any more sadness could fit in that one room. I had a lot of time to think while we sat. Maybe too much.

I looked first at his family. Mom and Dad poised, and carefully greeting each on the never-ending line. Big Brother and Little Sister, beautiful, supportive, composed. I told you. They could have been any of us. And I am sure they never in their worst nightmare imagined they would be standing there.

And I looked at the police officers, standing in honor. Each one with red eyes as they tried so hard to remain stoic. Undoubtedly they had kids of their own, or they knew the young man well – or both.

Children. Everywhere. Out of order for a wake. Except this time it was theirs. It was their friend. The kid they sat in class with. Young preteens – so many of them former students. Faces raw with emotion. A night they will never forget.

Tomorrow my friend and I, we will go to the funeral mass. We will represent our school. We will try to keep ourselves composed. But, her thoughts will wander to her boys, and mine to my little girl. I will think of the “close calls” we have endured, and the many the Cowden’s Syndrome has on the horizon for us. I shudder at the horror… at the potential.

And yet, if I let it consume me, what life will that be for my girl; my beautiful, generous, compassionate young lady?
If I let the tragedy overwhelm me with the reality that at any moment, any of us could be this family, I will lose track of what I have.

If I lose track, if I stop cherishing the blessings I have, I do not give any honor to the memory of this little boy.

Instead, I hug tighter. Try to strengthen the duration of my patience. Smell the flowers. Say I love you. Believe in angels. Remember what really matters.

I can not comfort this family. My words are useless. They have to find their way.

But, I am quite sure now why I cried, and why I had to cry, and why I continue to cry. I can weep and mourn, with them and for them.

I can hug my little girl, and then hug her again. I can make memories that matter.

Maybe if we all take some time to show some extra love. Maybe then we can find a way to keep his memory alive forever.

God, hold them in the palm of Your hand – tomorrow, and forevermore. Amen.

It was NOT the Cowden’s… this time!

Published on February 6, 2013February 6, 2013 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

Insert HUGE sigh of relief here.

We saw the retina specialist. He was a young guy. He took a medical history. He had never heard of Cowden’s Syndrome so he took 15 minutes to read and familiarize himself with it so we could have an intelligent conversation BEFORE the exam. (This is where all my fellow Cowden’s sufferers stop in amazement… yes – imagine that!)

He understood my concerns, especially the vascular ones since the eye doctor saw “something” on the picture of the eye.

Even with her having said, “It’s Probably Nothing, but…,” he still took almost 1 hour start to finish on the exam.

He looked in her eye. He photographed the eye. He tested her eye pressure, and her vision with and without glasses. He systematically eliminated cause for concern, until he was able to say – yes, her vision declined – but I don’t see any ominous reason why that happened.

There is NO evidence of vascular lesion. There is NOTHING to indicate that Cowden’s Syndrome played any part in this one. Instead, it’s a bit of “cat and mouse.” This time we are chasing a different set of genetics.

Unfortunately for Meghan, her father’s family doesn’t carry good eyesight. Seems she got the PTEN mutation from me, and the rotten eyesight from them. Share, Share.., I am not happy about the poor eyesight, but it is a lot more straightforward and less messy than anything Cowden’s related.

Genetics.

Rare diseases.

Over suffered, and under researched. All of them.

Spoke to a Mom, a volunteer at the Global Genes Project.

She was lovely.

She also has twin 9-year-old girls with a rare disease, whose chances of long-term survival are bleak.

The kind of conversation you end wow-ing the other person’s strength, and being thankful for drawing the rare disease card you did.

And this week I am being reminded that your kid doesn’t need a rare disease to end up in dire straights. Young children are snatched from their parents far too soon. In ways that just don’t make sense.

So we pray. A lot.

We can’t fix everything. As a matter of fact we can’t fix most things. So we hope. And we help. The best way we can.

We will make lots more ribbons. People need to know about these disorders. All of them. And once they know, they will help.

We contacted the paper in hoped they will run a story. Every day feels like a story unto itself.

This time it wasn’t the Cowden’s. Thank God.

But there will be a next time. The worry will never cease.

Hold your children tightly. To a large extent we are lucky. We seem to know the beast we are fighting.

Tell them you love them. All the time.

We are going to Disney again. Money well spent.

Don’t look too closely at the backyard, and the deck. Just come spend some time with us. It passes too fast.

And WAY too much of it is spent at doctors, without much reprieve.

Tomorrow we head back to the dentist about those gums…

Dead Poets Society

Published on February 3, 2013 by beatingcowdens3 Comments

The church bulletin this morning had these words from Henry David Thoreau…

Poignant. Especially as I sat, in my “new” church, watching my daughter participate actively in a “Family Friendly” service. They do those about every 6 weeks, in cycles, and I really enjoy them. This one, this week, focused on growing up.

So, as Meghan stood singing, in a small, multi age group, I thought about the backdrop behind her. Initially it still felt “wrong” to me. I somehow expected her to be in front of the church I grew up in; with the same smile, and the same voice. I imagined the picture behind the altar that became ingrained in my subconscious as a youth, and the striking stained glass windows. I was looking for the familiarity of my childhood, even as I myself, and with my family, am still, at almost 40, “growing up.”

Things did not work out. After 38 years that was initially so hard to swallow. I was angry. I was sad. I was generally heartbroken. But maybe it was time. Time for me to “grow.”

For years I prayed for a place where my family could worship together. We have spent 6 months now, almost every week, as a family of three in the pew. The motto of the Moravian Church, “In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things love,” speaks to my soul.

I looked at the cross, and the Moravian Star, and I smiled. The backdrop has changed, but not the meaning. “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” She was standing in a different place, but there was the same love, and acceptance I have come to equate with my faith.

When I got home I couldn’t shake the images from “Dead Poets Society.” Quotes from my all-time favorite movie from 1989, with my all time favorite actor, Robin Williams flooded my head.

Thoreau, along with other famous poets wisdom peppered this movie with all the perspective I needed as I high school student. And, now as I “grow up,” decades later, the meaning of the words changes a bit, but the movie “grows up” with me.

And the reality that…

The scene that spoke to the teacher and human in me, as Robin Williams hopped onto the desk…

The reminders that we are to always look at things from a different perspective.

These are the words that shaped my youth. These are the words that give me strength – decades later. I love words, especially straightforward ones that speak to my soul.

In 1989 I thought life was complicated. I had no idea that just shy of 25 years later I would be facing a rare genetic disease like Cowden’s Syndrome, with all its risks, and perils. I could not imagine in my worst nightmares that my beautiful girl would be facing it too. And yet, these words, that became part of me – help give me the strength to endure.

My faith is strong. My understanding of others, and the need to always look at things from a different perspective is a large part of how I define myself.

Growing up. Changing. Doesn’t mean ending, but rather new beginnings.

It may be a while before Meghan is old enough – or even interested in my favorite movie, but I will teach her – one step at a time.

Every day – we work in this house on new beginnings. We work on finding our voice, and moving forward.

We try to live a little, learn a little, and to keep God involved in it all.

We make a few denim ribbons, we raise awareness, and we keep the reality that we are fortunate.

All this from a “Family Friendly” Church service centered on ‘growing up.’

I consider myself successful as a Mother, if my girl grows up – Cowden’s or not – with these ideas helping shape who she becomes.

Rare Disease Day

Published on January 31, 2013January 31, 2013 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

So tonight, as I turned the calendar to February, Meghan actually whooped with excitement.

When I asked her why, she told me that she was going to “Celebrate Rare Disease Day” this month.

I smiled in spite of myself. This kid can get excited about anything, and to imagine that 2 years ago we never even knew there was a “Rare Disease Day.”

This year she intends to celebrate with her usual charm and zest.

Our kitchen table is a ribbon making center. We are gluing denim ribbons at an alarming rate. She created a half sheet to attach to each ribbon, describing our connection.

Then, she bravely approached her school principal to get permission to distribute 950 ribbons to the staff and students at her school. She will ask them all to wear jeans on February 28th. And that day, she will not feel alone.

She is getting to know some of the other rare diseases, listed here.

http://www.rarediseases.org/rare-disease-information/rare-diseases

She knows ours is pretty rare, but the list is alarming. Almost 7,000 diseases fit the criteria for “Rare Disease.”

http://curiosity.discovery.com/question/criteria-to-determine-rare-disease

So tonight, after we left the dentist, with the encouraging news that she doesn’t think we need an oral surgeon. We were in a pretty good mood. Meghan and I looked in the mirror at the “cobblestone gums” (a hallmark of our Cowden’s Syndrome) that we share. Mouth issues are just another battle to be fought in the war.

Rare Disease Day gives her a focus.

The pain has been horrendous this week. The legs, the knee, the groin, the arms. Probably the weather – everyone says. Little solace to my 9 year old. The Celebrex seems to be quitting. Supplemented each morning by a dose of tylenol, she gets through the day.

But she lights up again when the talk returns to “Rare Disease Day.” She has hopes that maybe her young friend in Australia, or in Ohio – both with Cowden’s, might be able to Skype into her school.

She and I have matching shirts from with the Global Genes logo.

She wants to give these ribbons to anyone who will take them. She wants the world to know, and to understand. Even if it is only for a day.

She wants her pain, her doctor’s appointments, her worry, her biopsies, her surgeries… to matter.

She knows they do. To the people who love her. She knows there is a virtual army following her in prayer every step of the way. She knows they are praying for the “retinologist” visit, and for her eyesight, as well as for her health.

She knows that some of them she knows, and some she will never meet. She appreciates every single one.

And this is the month. She will have “her” day. She will include everyone. She will not feel like 1 in 200,000. She will not be lonely.

She hurt tonight. We rubbed her legs, and kissed her before bed. We have no idea if it will ever be alright So we don’t lie anymore. We do what we can, when we can.

I will contact the local papers, and see if I can get someone to pick up a story on a little girl who wants to change the world.

I will eagerly await a phone call from the Global Genes Project.

You will hear a lot about this during the month. Bear with us. We are not passive people. We work through doing!