Dear Stress, Let’s Break Up…


Because truly I’m getting bored of you. I’d like try to spend some time with Serenity, or Sanity, or Relaxation, or maybe Peace.

I know I’m bad at ending relationships. I get attached even to things that are just wrong for me.

I make excuses. I have a hard time letting go.

And you, well you are relentless. You keep finding ways to get in my face.


Yesterday you played nasty. I had a simple appointment. Do I need the implant replaced or not? And somehow it turned into an insurance nightmare and a need to consult with a new plastic surgeon. The surgery will be. But at least it’s not urgent. Sheesh! I needed to fit in a consult with a NEW doctor?  You know how much I LOVE new doctors right?  AND EXTRA trips to the city.  My complete favorite.

And as I tried to reach Meghan’s doctor to get things scheduled I hit so many roadblocks it was like you were just taunting me with your tongue out. I get it. Long weekend. Except it’s TOO long if you’re waiting on things like this.  I cried.  I admit it.  You got to me.


But you know what Stress? You’re taking up too much energy. And once again my kid set me straight. She swam one heck of a practice tonight. She will swim her December meet. I owe it to HER to work around her passions.  We even chuckled, knowing the reality of what she COULD be facing, and the super importance of her swimming, and singing, and acting. No matter if the doctor understands. God help me no matter if it delays things a few days. (Breathe in breathe out…) cause we have to prioritize.

Stress you don’t like focus. You like chaos. You like drama. You like mayhem. I doubt you’re gone for good. But we are so over you.

Excuse me while Peace, Serenity and I dig out the Christmas tree.

I will release you with my mind. I will release you with my energy. I will release you using ADAPTOGENS.  I’m really not interested in you…

 
We’re too busy- BEATINGCOWDENS!

Making the Most of It All…

Sunday night, coming home from a swim meet, Meghan outlined her goals.  Among them included, “no surgery for a whole year.”  To someone who hasn’t had 4 surgeries in the last 12 months, that may not seem quite that important, but to Meghan it was at the tip-top of the list.

Over the last several years she has spent more time living in “recovery” than just living.

Your Recovery Green Road Sign Over Dramatic Clouds and Sky.

She dropped 16 seconds total off her event times at this month’s meet, and 17 last month.  Insanity.  Except to a young lady who is now growing into herself, and her abilities.

 

She wants to swim.  Hard and often.

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She wants to soar academically – no average under a 95 will do for her.

She wants to act, and sing, and be on stage.

She wants to participate in her youth group, and retreats, and live her faith.

She wants to raise community awareness of Cowden’s Syndrome and rare diseases.

She is on the move all the time.  I know, because I am with her.  Or helping her stay organized.  Or transporting her at least.

This weekend we drove 200 miles.  Today at least another 60.  LOTS of time for car chat.  Lots of time to get to know each other well.

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Sometimes she drives me crazy.  Sometimes I frustrate her so badly she wants to scream.  Sometimes she does homework, reads, or works on projects.  But, lots of other times we talk.  About anything and everything.  And as much as I hate traffic, and long distances, I’ve learned to make the most of our time in the car.  I’ve learned to appreciate my captive audience, with the realization she won’t be in my back seat forever.

Captive Audience words on a ransom note in cut out letters in a message to forced or trapped customers or people

As a matter of fact after today’s appointment, she could easily be in the front seat.  All the time.  At a very trim waistline, and a height of almost 5 foot 7, she presents as YEARS older than she is.  Which I sometimes have to remind myself when I am busy expecting her to have it all together.  Sometimes she still needs me to help her along.

Today was the knee surgeon.  Six month follow-up.  He sees the shift in the patella.  He feels the scar tissue, and the clicking.  But, he said, she can wait.  She can wait until she’s ready before he cleans it out again.  With Cowden’s it’s a fine line.  How much pain can you deal with?  Because every surgery will lead to an overgrowth of scar tissue which carries its own issues.  Drag your feet.  Know when enough is enough.

Next we will have an MRI to check on the AVM.  As long as that’s stable, we should have a bit of time.  A bit of time to do some things besides recover.  A bit of time to be a bit more like a “normal” busy 12-year-old.  Well, like a “normal” 12-year-old planning a fund-raiser for more than 150 people with her favorite Disney entertainer… But, hey, she dreams big.

This kid. My stength. My motivation. My hero.
This kid. My strength. My motivation. My hero.

Tomorrow she goes to another doctor.  And about this one I just pray.  A lot.

In two weeks I get to remind myself I have Cowden’s with an unplanned visit to my plastic surgeon to question a poorly behaving painful prosthesis.

Plenty to preoccupy the mind.  In our immediate and extended family.

One day, one event, one obstacle at a time.

I did start my Christmas shopping.  After 2 years of holiday sadness, I am craving joy, and celebration.  I am craving the anticipation of the birth of the baby Jesus.  I am determined to remove myself from the holiday hustle and bustle.  I am determined to set my mind right.  Because none of us ever know.  Really.  And there is no promise of tomorrow.  Really.

But organization makes me happy.  And it’s about being happy.  And making the most of it all.  All the time.

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The Story of the Girl and Her Mom

once upon a time

So, four years ago they diagnosed this girl with a rare genetic disorder called “Cowden’s Syndrome.”  Soon after they diagnosed her, they diagnosed her mom too.

And the mom and the girl read everything they could find, which really wasn’t very much.

And they asked a lot of questions.  Some from the doctors, but mostly from people on the internet who had this Rare Disease too.

They learned a lot.  They also learned there was a lot to learn.

They learned about cancer risks, and how very high they are.

They learned about screening tests.

They met lots of new doctors.  Some were super awesome, and others were super awful.

They fired the awful ones, and kept the awesome ones.

The doctors sent them for tests, and screenings, and blood draws, and all sorts of poking and prodding.

At the beginning it was pretty much all they had time for.

the girl who is always there

The girl had lots of surgeries, and lost her thyroid, and then they called her a “previvor” because they said she got it out just in time before it was cancer.

The mom, she had a bunch of surgeries too.  In one they found cancer.  But she was called a “survivor” because it was all gone.  (Thanks to the girl who got diagnosed first and saved her life.)

The girl and her mom ran from doctor to doctor.  They sat in traffic for forever.  They stayed in hospitals and had surgeries, and tests.  Everyone treated them kind of strange.  Like they were aliens or something.  Their condition was so rare that hardly any doctors even understood what they were supposed to do.

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Over time the girl and her mom got a better idea of what really mattered and what didn’t.  They started to be more assertive about doctors, and schedules and planning.  They started to say, “not right now,” sometimes, knowing that a few weeks wouldn’t matter, but a few months might.

The girl and her mom talked a lot about Cowden’s Syndrome.  They talked a lot about Rare Diseases.  Sometimes they were really angry.  Sometimes they were sad, and other times they were grateful.  They saw what some other people with Rare Diseases went through.

The girl and her mom had LOTS of long talks, real talks about tumors, and tests, and cancer, and life.

They worked on some things separately and some things together.  But they agreed to get busy living.

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That didn’t mean they could ignore the seemingly endless doctors appointments.  They all had to be done.  It meant they could schedule smarter.  It meant they would talk about what symptoms had to be addressed right now and which ones could wait.  It meant they had to get really good at communicating.

This isn’t always so easy since the girl is almost a teenager, but they are getting pretty good at it.

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The girl had 4 surgeries this year, some more major than others, but she spent lots of time recovering.  And she learned that she liked to be busy.  She likes to sleep too, but she likes to be busy.  With kids.  Often.  She also likes to be active.  A lot.

The girl and her mom still have this Cowden’s  Syndrome, and sometimes for reasons no one understands, they hurt a lot.  Sometimes the pain makes it hard for one of them to push on.  Sometimes the tired almost feels like they can’t go on.

But the girl and her mom, they push each other.  They push each other to press on because laying down and giving up is not an option.

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Their days are long.  The mom works full-time.  The girl goes to 7th grade and makes high honor roll.

Their afternoons are full of drama club, the girl’s love of theatre, and lots of swim practice.  The days are often 13 hours or more of constant motion.

The girl and her mom, they decided that they might have a Rare Disease, but it definitely wasn’t going to “have” them.

So they decided that whatever comes their way, they are going to be active, healthy, strong, fueled with nutritious food, and built of muscle.  This way if Cowden’s punches, they will punch back harder.

Sometimes the mom wonders if life would have been different without the girl.  The mom wonders if alone she would have been able to push on.

But she doesn’t have to wonder.  Because they have each other.  And, because this weekend they spent 3 days at a swim meet.  And the girl knocked major time off her events.

And, when they came home, the daddy, who is the glue that holds them together, had warm chicken, and rice and vegetables, the healthy fuel  – all ready.

And the mom and the girl were so grateful.  For each other.  For the desire to fight.  For the strength from good food, and faith, and the love of a dad who backs them up every step of the way.

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And as the mom drove the girl to youth group at their church, they talked, about the swimming.  And about the fundraiser they are planning. So that Rare Diseases scarier than theirs get some attention.  “For the Babies,” and so that there can be research for this Cowden’s Syndrome.  So that maybe it can get stopped in its tracks.

And as the mom walked home enjoying the fresh crisp air of Fall she was filled with gratitude.

For this story of BEATINGCOWDENS has only just begun.  And each chapter holds more promise than the next…

The War Ain’t Over Yet…

Tonight wasn’t one of our better nights. And, as we drove home, and sorted through a few things, I offered Meghan this outlet.  I told her writing helps me sort out my thoughts and get refocused.  Here is Meghan, as our GUEST BLOGGER….

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Tonight I couldn’t finish practice. Yesterday I hurt my knee, my kneecap clicked back out at practice and I got shocking pain through my leg. A lot. So I pulled the rest of practice and iced my knee when we got home. I went again to practice today and hurt my knee so much that I couldn’t continue. I went home in tears feeling like I just failed. I gave in tonight. I lost this battle, but I will win the war. Tomorrow I will not play gym, for I will save my strength for swimming.

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So, I will go back to Wagner on Saturday, and I will finish practice and do it well. I love swimming, and I love the pool. When I swim I feel like I’m actually at peace. I won’t lose my favorite thing in the world. I will keep fighting, and Cowden’s Syndrome will not win the war. I WILL.

I cannot be normal, and I cannot play as much as I’d like to with the kids. I always have to watch and be careful about what I do to my body. Well, I am not going to let that stop me. I’m going to succeed and I’m going to live my life to the fullest.

Cowden’s Syndrome may win quite a few battles, but I will win this war. I will keep fighting and I will stay strong. I will get some injuries along the way, but I will recover.

Hey Cowden’s, did ya hear me? The war’s NOT over yet, and you will not be the victor. Take your small victories, for today was one of the days when I did give in, but it won’t be happening again any time soon.

small-battles

Hyper-vigilance

Hyper-vigilance.  Although Wikipedia is not my favorite source for all things – it defines this quite well.

Hyper-vigilance is an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect threats. Hyper-vigilance is also accompanied by a state of increased anxiety which can cause exhaustion.

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When we were first diagnosed, and I had a long conversation with a Mom who had been where I was many years before, she told me we would be OK, but we would need to be forever vigilant.  Understanding now, what I didn’t then, is that Cowden’s Syndrome requires more than vigilance, it necessitates hyper-vigilance.

The two are very different.  One is a state you may be in sometimes, when it is necessary.  The other is a place you never leave.  Ever.

I don’t compare illnesses, in the sense of one being, “better, harder, easier, more difficult, more painful…” than another.  That to me is silly.  I know LOTS of people who suffer on a regular basis.  I can’t say I would want to trade places with any of them.  And, I can only speak from my lens.

My lens is that of a mother, who is watching her child battle through a chronic (FOREVER) illness with potentially life-threatening, and definitely life-altering ramifications – while battling that same illness myself.

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I don’t view us as “sick” people.  As a matter of fact we are regularly called,” The healthiest looking sick people…”  But, we aren’t “well” either.  It gets complicated.  Quickly, and often.

Hyper-vigilance requires me to do everything I perceive is in my power to try to stave off the tumors and vascular anomalies looking to create havoc, chaos and confusion in our bodies.

Hyper-vigilance necessitates monitoring food intake.  Avoiding food allergens/sensitivities because they cause vomiting and severe GI distress.  That means NEVER leaving the house without food.  JUST IN CASE.  It also means spending weekends cooking so that “quick meals” come out of my freezer and not a drive through window.  It means providing the most intense nutritional products I can find to fuel a body that would otherwise be running on empty.  It means driving far and long to get the right food at the right stores.  It means making sure the sweet treats that are allowed are not full of dyes and preservatives because they compromise further a documented severely compromised immune system.

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Hyper-vigilance means watching the medication intake.  To make sure we don’t forget an antiviral.  Because when we do it sets off a tirade of events that are hard to bounce back from.  It means typing the list, and checking it over.  It means teaching her to know her medicine on sight.  It means avoiding everything we don’t need and willingly taking things like probiotics to help that fragile stomach.  It means knowing that when you have chronic viral infections they are ALWAYS waiting for an “in.”  It means leaving NOTHING to chance, and having spare pill cases in every bag with extra of everything, especially digestive enzymes.  It also means spending HOURS AND HOURS trying to make the mail order medication people get it right.  Which I sometimes think is just not ever going to happen.

Hyper-vigilance means scheduling the doctors.  All of them.  All the time.  It means making sure all the screenings, for all the ridiculous number of cancers we are at an increased risk of developing, are done on schedule.  It means often following up on those appointments, with imaging studies and more appointments.  And then repeating those “unclear” imaging studies, again and again.  It means getting blood work done, often.  Usually at least once every 4 weeks.  It means talking to the endocrinologist and problem solving with him when he admits “it doesn’t make sense” as you strive to help your girl at least feel better.  It involves medication adjustments.  Making sure it’s taken on an empty stomach, and every single day.  It means there is always a list nearby of who needs to be scheduled next.  It’s right alongside the pile of bills that have inevitably been messed up by someone, and now need receipts faxed and hours on the phone to be kept out of collection agencies.

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Hyper-vigilance is hearing the symptoms every day and trying not to panic.  When there is a headache, sharp and sudden, or a pain in the knee, or the back, or the shoulder, or the leg, and you know your kid is NOT a hypochondriac as some others would like to think, you have to listen, sort, and mentally file all of these.  Hyper-vigilance is keeping track of which ones repeat and which ones go away on their own.  Hyper-vigilance is being very aware, but never panicking.  It’s a fine line.

Hyper-vigilance is Physical Therapy.  As often as we can fit it in.  Because something always hurts.  When one foot is 2 sizes smaller than the other because the treatments for the AVM in the knee cut the blood flow to the foot, so the bone stopped growing, you end up “off sides”.  The hip, the shoulder, the knee.  They all hurt, and it won’t get better.  It will only get managed.  For as long as we can fit in the PT.

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Hyper-vigilance is also finding balance.  It’s also searching somewhere for “normal.”  It’s making 4 swim practices a week, often on raw nerve.  Because she wants to feel normal.  She wants to compete.  And let’s be truthful, she wants to win.  It’s about me never really leaving the grounds of the college 12 extra hours a week because we are always one step away, and sometimes a half-step from “just in case,” and “what if.”  It’s getting her to drama, because she’s skilled there.  And she fits in.  And the teacher is awesome, and the kids know her for who she is.  It’s about balancing the schoolwork, and doing her best, while teaching her not to beat herself up.  Too much stress is no good for anyone.  Especially when you have this random tumor growing condition that preys on extra stress.

Hyper-vigilance is remembering I have this “Cowden’s Syndrome” too.  It is making sure I am at my best so that she is at hers.  It’s remembering that I sport fake silicone boobs as a constant reminder that I’m not invincible and cancer found me.  It’s remembering they were worried enough to take the uterus and the ovaries too.  It is working hard, at my job, and my life, and showing her it can be done.  But it’s also about letting her know I get tired too.  Because in those moments she sees that she is normal.  And yesterday when I struggled to even walk up a flight of stairs, I saw the concern in her eyes.  And she picked up the vacuum.  And she helped.  It’s teaching her to take care of herself by some days letting her take care of me.

Hyper-vigilance is walking.  Me.  Walking 4-5 miles a day almost every day.  Because my bones are already crapping out.  After 30 years on thyroid pills and 3 years after a hysterectomy, at 41 I’ve been placed on warning.  It’s necessary for me to take good care of me.  To fuel my body properly.  To limit the junk in.  To respect this body because it’s already got a lot going against it.

Hyper-vigilance is making decisions in the moment.  It is having to say no, we can’t go.  It’s not being able to tell people in advance.  It takes away from advance planning, even the fun stuff.  Because life with chronic illness is day by day.  It makes me feel badly, often.  So sometimes I avoid making plans.  I don’t even like to volunteer for too much because I just don’t know whether things will be ok that morning.

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Hyper-vigilance can be very isolating.

It’s hard for some people to understand.  And I get it.  Because a few years ago it might have been hard for me to understand too.  It makes people uncomfortable that this thing we have is never going to get better.  People feel better when things can be fixed.  But it can’t.  We are not going to grow out of it.  It’s here.  It’s part of us.  Like the ‘elephant in the room.’  But, we understand other people’s problems too.  We get the myriad of health issues that surround us.  And we empathize.  And we don’t need to be sheltered from them.  As a matter of fact, we might like it is sometimes people shared their worries with us too.

Hyper-vigilance is exhausting.  And today I took a two-hour nap.  Because my throat started to hurt.  And my body was giving me all the warning signs that I had pushed a little too far.  I shortened the walk.  I stayed in mostly.

It’s like training.  For real life.  Because there is not an event at the end, that will finish with a medal and a sense of accomplishment, and a new goal. My forever goal will be to keep us healthy, and to keep the Cowden’s Syndrome at bay.  The only path to this end is hypervigilance.  And even then, just like in life, there are no guarantees.

We remain forever  Beatingcowdens!

Summer List

september-2015-calendar

I have been walking around all day with that nagging feeling in my stomach.

I have packed my bag, and Meghan’s too.

I have filed, organized, and made lots of lists.

There is a new schedule on the wall – color coded and everything.

The calendar says it’s time, but my heart, and my stomach beg to differ.

Summer was to be about beaches, and barbeques.  It was to be about road trips and freedom.  It was designed for friends, and fun, and get-togethers.

Except that most of that never came to be.

There was that knee surgery in May, that derailed any hope of walking long distances for a while, and thrust us into 2x a week PT.  Which, even though we LOVE Dr. Jill, can be daunting in the schedule.  And, it eliminated most day trips that could easily be taken for granted, if you don’t have to factor in that a walk more than about 3/4 mile is out of the question.

And while that was going on Daddy was rebuilding the deck.  Alone.  For three months.  Every spare minute of April, May and June.  It looks so beautiful.  Maybe next year we will get some people over to relax and enjoy the deck, and the grass.  The new grass, artificial, durable, and a drastic improvement over the old side yard.  Yes, maybe next year.

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We got the pool open the first week in July.  And July had drama “camp,” and I use the term VERY loosely.  And July had swim practice.  And July had doctors, some regular, like PT, others on the 6 month schedule.  And some blood tests, and some ultrasounds, and a bone density test for mom.  I think I stopped counting at 30 appointments.

But, thankfully August had Disney.  And there are few other things that can bring me such joy as a vacation with my family to the “Happiest Place on Earth.”

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And August had it’s own set of appointments, including hand surgery to remove a vascular lesion from her palm.  And setting up the whole wisdom teeth thing for September.

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So it’s easy for me to be sad.  And down on things. Because I want a do-over.  But, I guess that’s normal.  Because most people probably do.

I sat down tonight to get my head clear.  To “flip it,” and get my head and my heart in the right place for tomorrow.  I sat down to acknowledge the many things I have to be grateful for, and the things that went WELL this summer.

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So, in no particular order…

  1. The new deck.  No splinters.  No maintenance.  Pretty.  And finished.
  2. The new grass.
  3. Walking barefoot in my backyard.
  4. Road trip to West Virginia, that I took alone, on a very rainy June weekend to meet some Marines.  Healing help.

    My road trip to West Virginia
    My road trip to West Virginia
  5. Listening to my girl sing.  In pain.  In joy.  In the shower.  In the living room.  In the car.  Anywhere.
  6. Healing progress.  From both recent surgeries.  And the resilience to continue to endure.
  7. Laughter.  Mine.  His.  Hers.  Friends of hers.  Strong laughter.
  8. Disney.  I’d go back three times a year if I could.
  9. Graduation party, bridal shower, and a wedding.   Mom being 18 years cancer free.  Meghan turned 12, and Felix had a birthday too!  We celebrated Pop’s 96th birthday.  Celebrations.
  10. Board games.
  11. Green tea – together.
  12. Trips to Ralph’s.
  13. Watching my all time favorite movie, “Dead Poet’s Society” with my girl.
  14. Nutrition packed shakes, EVERY day.  Even in Disney.  Fueling my body.
  15. Reading a book my friend in Australia wrote about Cowden’s – for all the world to see.
  16. Antibiotics that heal recurrent infections.
  17. Walking.  5 miles a day, most days.  and at least 10,000 steps every day since July 8th.  Goal met.IMG_5094
  18. Last, and DEFINITELY not least, were my walks with Mom.  My healing walks with Mom.  There were so many mornings when she and I walked together, 2 miles, with 2 dogs.  We talked this summer more consistently, and for longer, than we have in a long time.  I think this was one of the best things that happened all summer.  She is a strong lady.  Lyme Disease took a stab at her this summer.  Apparently for the second time.  And she has told it where to go.  So often she is a grounding force for me in this never-ending battle to remain BEATING COWDENS.  I will miss those walks.  They were not just for the FitBit, but so much for the heart and the mind.

    My Mom. My first hero. My friend. We need an updated picture.
    My Mom. My first hero. My friend. We need an updated picture.

And that is just what my compulsive, reflective, organized self needed.

Because now, I feel a little better.  It wasn’t what I had hoped.  There was sadness, and worry. for my own girl, and for so many others.  For adults I love, and for a former student fighting a formidable battle.

But, I woke up every day.  And lots of days the sun shined.  And fun doesn’t have to stop just because school starts.

So as I lay my head down tonight I will do my best to do it with gratitude.  For new days.  For new seasons.  For a job with a kind boss, helpful colleagues, and wonderful children.  For a job that begins new every year.  For the knowledge that every day, every season, will hold blessings and challenges, for us and for everyone.

I wish you all a wonderful fall, but I’m not closing the pool just yet….

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Pause…

Sometimes we need to pause.  We pause only briefly, with hope of it lasting the whole week, and the reality that there will be interruptions along the way.  We pause, knowing that pain is ever-present, acknowledging with gratitude any breaks we are granted.  We pause knowing surgeries will always be forthcoming, but for right now they can wait.  We pause because with the pace of this life it is easy to miss the little things, the important things.  We pause to enjoy noise that is not NYC traffic, or the sound of a doctor’s office.  We pause to quiet the phone calls that need answering.  We pause so we are better prepared to battle this Cowden’s Syndrome.  We pause to remind ourselves of the beauty, within our family, and around us in the world.

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Breathtaking sunset
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Hanging around the hotel
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Friendly EPCOT duck
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Animal Kingdom Safari
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Animal Kingdom Safari

Last week we were in Walt Disney World, in Florida.  It is our favorite, actually the ONLY vacation spot we have ever had as a family.  We are fortunate to have celebrated Meghan’s birthday there for the last 8 years.  Disney is crowded, and hot, and pricey, and all the things the haters of the big Mouse want to say.  But, to the rest of us, there is a magic – a magic that endures regardless of age.  It’s hard to describe it, unless you feel it, but we do.  There is magic in avoiding doctors.  There is magic in eating safe food from restaurants, and having a bakery that even makes cookies, and cupcakes for your gluten, dairy, soy free girl.  So much of what we can’t do during the year is because of scheduling, and food.  It seems silly, but with those obstacles gone, it is a recipe for success.

Even the negativity that tries to get at us, ultimately fails – https://beatingcowdens.com/2015/08/09/theres-nothing-wrong-with-that-girl/

The trip was one of the smoothest we have ever had.  (Aside from me unpacking late the first night to realize I forgot the enzymes Meghan needs to eat!  Fortunately I ALWAYS have extra, and Mom got them overnighted so they arrived in the nick of time Saturday.  Tragedy averted.  Magical.)

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And I was only on the phone with one doctor.   Once.  The WHOLE WEEK!

I sometimes look at others vacation photos and think it would be nice, and perhaps a lot less costly, to change things up.  It might be interesting to see a few new things.  I would love to travel the country one day.  But, there will be time for all of that – later.  For now it’s about magic, and the treasure of having a preteen who still feels the magic in her heart.

Plus, we have some favorite rides…

She's more brave than me, but we DID it!
She’s more brave than me, but we DID it!

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TWICE!
TWICE!

Some Magical birthday wishes…

Her first
Her first “REAL” cake in YEARS!

https://www.erinmckennasbakery.com/orlando/

Time with
Time with “BOB” our favorite entertainer…

http://www.yehaabob.com/

And a birthday tradition…

A great view…

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Spectacular nighttime shows…

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Some Mom time...
Some Mom time…
Some Dad time...
Some Dad time…
And some time to just be 12, all by herself...
And some time to just be 12, all by herself…

There was plenty of time for me to walk.  And think about whatever I wanted, or nothing at all.  And we three started each day with our Isagenix… (fool me once – but never twice… for those of you who remember last year’s debacle!)

isablender isagenix shake

There were days I felt like I could go on forever…

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And days to just be a little silly…

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And as is the case every year when we pull away from our “home” for the week, I find my heart beating a bit faster.  My mind begins to race back on track.  And I don’t really like it.

This has been a wild summer.  One too many doctor’s appointments, too few days of simple relaxation.  And even as I am ALWAYS so conscious it could be much worse, I feel a bit of longing to do it all again, or maybe tack a few weeks on the back-end…

But, time does as it pleases, and eight days from now my girl will be recovering from another hand surgery.

We’ve begun to prepare for fall activities, and we are looking to sure up a date for our PTEN Foundation/ Global Genes Project fundraiser in February.

BEATING COWDENS takes stamina.  Fortunately, we’ve got that.

And even more – we’ve got each other.  And if we pause for no other reason, it is so we NEVER FORGET…

Between us we've got unparalleled strength, and never-ending love.
Between us we’ve got unparalleled strength, and never-ending love.

“There’s nothing wrong with THAT girl…”

To the Young Couple on the Bus this Morning,

You should know that I heard you.  I heard what you said as you glared at my daughter.  I saw you shake your heads in disgust and say, “There’s nothing wrong with that girl, I saw her walking at the hotel last night.”  You seemed proud of yourselves, like you had “found us out.”  Maybe that’s why you weren’t so quiet.  Maybe you wanted the others to hear, and to look at us in disgust as well, while the bus took 4 extra minutes to load my daughter on the wheelchair ramp.

I thought about what you said on and off through the day, and that alone made me mad.  The fact that I even gave you a second thought was so much more than you deserved.

Then we caught the same bus home, and I really struggled to hold my tongue as you went at it again.

But, on the way home, I was less interested in you, and much more concerned for my daughter.  She wasn’t well, again.  And in some ways we are used to it, but it’s never any easier to see.  As magical as it is here, it doesn’t change our reality.

Our reality, the reality of daily struggle with an invisible illness, is with us all the time.  And even though my daughter CAN walk, she is not physically capable of the walking required to navigate the parks.  Maybe its the 6 knee surgeries.  Maybe its the after effects of the thyroidectomy.  Maybe its the low immune subclasses, or the severe GI issues.  She tires easily.  And today, because it’s day three, she is already worn out.  And even with the help of a wheelchair, she needed us to cancel our dinner reservation and get her back to the hotel to rest.

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So, yes.  At the advice of her doctors, and the agreement of her parents, because she NEEDS a break from her life, and EVERY protection to help her feel well, she uses a wheelchair through most of the day.  And every day before we leave the hotel room we say a prayer for all those who HAVE to be in a wheelchair all the time.  We take a moment to pray for their strength and health.

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You aren’t the only ones.  There are plenty of others who look at my beautiful girl, and think that this is some type of ploy.  Which would make us pretty sick people.  Because if you really want to feel queasy, push your child around in a wheelchair.  Go ahead.  Try it for a week.  We’d rather she walk.  She’d rather walk.  So sometimes we let her try.  With advil, and about 3/4 mile round trip.  There is ice for the knee, and a shoulder to rub.  The body behaves like one 40 years older.  But, she pushes.  To keep her independence.  To feel normal.

The next time you wait the extra 4 minutes for the bus to load, don’t judge.  Don’t figure you know the who, or what or why, about the person in that wheelchair.  Don’t pity them.  Don’t feel badly for them.  Just be respectful, and assume they fight a battle you know nothing about.

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If you want to know more about them, ask.  And if you don’t – just walk right on by.  And cherish your mobility.

You just never know.

Sincerely,

The Mom of that Child You Know Nothing About

And then THIS happened…

And in the middle of the summer that wasn’t, Meghan’s drama teacher was out doing her thing, inspiring my daughter to step out of her comfort zone and reach new heights.  I LOVE the drama teacher.  And I LOVE that my girl has no fear.

Summer play.  Broadway scenes.

She is SO NOT defined by Cowden’s Syndrome… Not today, not ever.

Kudos to my Mary Poppins, and the whole cast.  (Even on their crackly public school microphones!)

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I LOVE that she has an outlet that she enjoys so much.  I LOVE that she smiles on the stage.  I really LOVE everything about the peace it brings to her.

This passion, this will help her as she works at BEATINGCOWDENS!

Invisible Illness – Stuck in the Middle with You

I don’t actually fit the “stereotype” of a middle child, as I was a younger sibling to my sister, (three years older) for 15 years, before my little sister and brother came along a few months apart.

I got the live the life of a “younger” and then later got to have some fun times, and responsibility as an “older.”

It worked.

On the other hand, this journey with this “invisible illness” we call “Cowden’s Syndrome” isn’t quite as smooth.  It has to work, but right now it’s the “typical” middle child.  It’s having a tough time fitting in where it belongs.  Actually it is definitively trying to take over, but either getting ignored, or getting too much attention for all the wrong things.

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In February of 2014 there was the complete removal of her thyroid.

In May of 2014 there was a week in the hospital from complications from the medicine that was controlling the AVM.

In November of 2014, almost on schedule, the AVM bled and required emergency surgery.

In February 2015 I addressed another vein gone awry in my leg.

In May 2015 there was the arthroscopy for the AVM knee to quartarize some bleeding.

In August, on the 25th, there will be her second-hand surgery in two years to try to stay ahead of the vascular malformations now forming in her palms.  That was an unintended result of Monday’s visit to the hand surgeon.

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There are a list of appointments to make, and bills to settle, and I seem to be doing nothing more than surviving.

More blood tomorrow.  An Abdominal ultrasound Friday.

The summer is not for carefree adventures.  The summer is for doctors.  I hate that.  But, its true.

And as we met with the oral surgeon today who perused her multiple page medical history, his cavalier remark, “She looks good,” should have pleased me.  But, if I may be frank, it pissed me off.

Not because she doesn’t look good.  She’s stunning, and tall and polite and well-mannered, and has a beautiful smile.  But that is NOT the point.

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The point is he never mentioned anything about the medical history, and in our world, being validated matters.  Someone needs to say its unusual (read unfair) for an (almost) 12-year-old to be discussing the removal of her wisdom teeth.  And while this may have nothing to do with Cowden’s (although I’ve come to know EVERYTHING unusual has SOMETHING to do with Cowden’s,) it is still just grossly unfair.  More unfair is that this is ALREADY her second stint in the chair of an oral surgeon, as a mass was removed from her gums some 5 years ago.

We remain “stuck in the middle.”

Again, I have the “healthiest looking sick kid.”

My kid who still ices her knee, and needs to walk a lap or two during swim practice, but still makes practice.  That kid will spend a week in a wheelchair at Disney, as she is not to walk more than about 1/2 mile consecutively.  The child who still hasn’t gotten clearance from her last knee surgery.  Clearly, she doesn’t “look” sick, but the stares and judgment are inevitable.  And to some extent I get it.  Invisible illness is hard to understand.

It is during this week I feel most “stuck in the middle.”  I am so grateful the accessibility issues are limited.  I do not fit in with the parents of wheelchair bound children.  Although, it is a necessary tool to allow us a much-needed vacation.  But, what is not limited are the “invisible” elements of her condition.  The chronic surgeries, the doctor visits, the traffic, the blood work, the scans, the inability to just “go”; to the museum, the beach, the park, or anywhere because it hurts to walk too long, the isolation from friends who have no limitations, the poking, the anxiety – well, they never ever go away.

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We’ve learned not to talk about them much.  But, they are always there.  Hers and mine.

She learns to appreciate what she can do, and acknowledge what she can’t.  Begrudgingly.

My kid who holds it together through all things, and has grit and determination I marvel at, will act in her summer production at school.

She learns to use the anxiety as a tool.

She masters her emotions.  She is the boss of her body.  She amazes me.

And on September 18th when she gets her bottom two wisdom teeth removed, the course of action will be no different.

They will never know the powerhouse of a young lady that just left their chair.  Until she comes back for the other two a few months later.

“Stuck In The Middle With You”
(originally by Stealers Wheel)

…Yes, I’m stuck in the middle with you,
And I’m wondering what it is I should do
It’s so hard to keep this smile from my face,
Losing control, and I’m all over the place
Clowns to left of me, jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you…