Rare Disease Day

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.”

Rare disease logo 2013

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.

Rare_Disease_Day_Ribbon hand made

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-feature

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.

hope t shirt

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.

Rare_Disease_Day_Logo_2011-1024x968 2

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!

Two of a kind
Two of a kind

Power Surges

525,600 minutes….

The song is stuck in my head.

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

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

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

happy hysterecomy

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

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

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

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

hysterectomy

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

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

“Mom, it’s January.  Are you OK?”

hot flashes2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

power surges

Lessons Learned in 2012

What a year!  Just months after our diagnosis of Cowden’s Syndrome in the fall of 2011, Meghan and I took on 2012 completely unsure what to expect.  As a matter of fact this very week last year, I was anxiously awaiting word on her thyroid biopsy slides that I had had transferred to a new hospital.  Ironic that I sit tonight, waiting to hear when the next thyroid biopsy will be.  The more things change…

In 2012…

I lost the ability to say, “I can’t.”  Instead I gained “Nerves of Steel” attacking this syndrome head on.

I lost my self pity and gained determination watching my daughter start her own awareness campaigns.

I lost my fear of driving on highways and in big cities.  Now I navigate NYC like a (cautious) professional, and even venture to hospitals in NJ and Boston.

I lost my fear of ridiculously large medical bills.   Instead I get to them when I can, knowing in most cases they are fortunately not mine to pay anyway.

I lost about 3 more sizes, and have finally settled into clothes that fit.

I lost my muscle tone, as wild days kept exercising at bay.

I lost sleep, and more of my brown hair to gray as worrying kept me up many nights.

I lost my breasts in a bilateral mastectomy, but replaced them with perky new silicone ones, and with that…

I lost my fear of breast cancer and those ridiculous breast MRIs!

I lost my feeling of loneliness after my surgery when I got to spend a week chatting it up with my Mom.

I lost some of my close friends, who understandably tire of hearing me repeat the same stories without resolution, but I gained an incredible online support “family,” through Facebook, through PTEN world, and through my blog.

I lost that sense that we are alone at this battle against Cowden’s Syndrome, and I gained a deeper appreciation for the friends that call, message, and connect me to organizations like NORD, and the Global Genes Project.

I lost my uterus, and my ovaries, but I was done with them anyway,  and I gained permanent birth control and instant hot flashes!

I lost one of my Grandpas who I know I was so lucky to have for so long, but whose loss is felt deeply.

I lost my old cell phone, and finally traded it in for a “smart” phone.

I lost my old church, for reasons that still break my heart, but my family has been welcomed home at a new church where we are still marveling in God’s mercy and grace.

I lost my negative attitude about Staten Islanders when I watched my friends and neighbors rally to help the victims of “Superstorm Sandy.”

I lost my car in a ridiculous accident, but this week replaced it with a 2013 Hyundai Sonata.

I lost the way I sometimes took my grandparents for granted after Grandma Edith fell this fall.  I always loved them with all my heart, but I will remember how lucky I am each and every day.

Family shot in front of the New Year's Eve Ball.
Family shot in front of the New Year’s Eve Ball.

In 2012 I gained tools I will use every day as I move forward.

I gained…

Determination – that we will beat this!

Focus- on what matters most.

Perspective- that everyone suffers.

Forgiveness- because negativity hurts me more than them.

Gratitude- for the kindness of family, friends, and strangers.

Compassion- as I watched my little girl continuously open her heart to others.

2012 had plenty of hard times, but like my car, it was far from a “total loss.”

Here’s to the lessons to be learned in 2013.

Wishing you all health and happiness!

pic collage

Blessed- with my fake boobs

No, seriously – I mean it.

Yes, there is the occasional moment where I think the new girls feel a bit awkward, or unnatural.  There is the occasional moment when I look in the mirror and try to remember what the old girls looked like, and what it was to have nipples instead of scars.

Then I get over it.

And I think about how comfortable and natural it was last night, as I held my exhausted daughter and she rested her head on this size A silicone that sits where my old boob was.  She didn’t even hesitate.  She didn’t mention it being weird or unnatural.  She didn’t notice.

And my husband, who means it when he says over and over – “I am just so glad you are here.”  And, I believe him.

I am blessed to have had great surgeons, a superb support system, and the “push” to say goodbye when it was time.

A year ago I still had more body parts.  If I had left them all alone I could be dead now.  But I am not.  And the cancer is gone.

boobs

This Cowden’s Syndrome can really suck sometimes.

Other times I feel very blessed.

Plus – mine will stay perky longer than yours! 😉

 

Maybe it wasn’t a “Total Loss”

The Insurance Agent called Friday night.  He told me my car was a “Total Loss.”  I think I knew that after I saw this picture the first time, but it was still a little hard to hear.

I really did love my Hyundai
I really did love my Hyundai

Even though I understand the term “Total Loss” has specific connotations in the insurance world, the terminology wasn’t sitting quite right with me.  To me, a “Total Loss” means I didn’t learn anything.  It was a waste.  I took nothing from it.  That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I have taken something away from every experience I have had in my life, especially the very trying ones that seem to be pelting me like hail on a blustery day.  Sometimes what I take away is positive, and sometimes – not so much.  But I always, always learn something.

1. No matter how long you stop, and no matter how hard you look, and no matter how sure you are that it is safe to go – a speeding car may hit you anyway.

2. If there are no witnesses to an accident – there is no way to “prove” excessive speed. This is the case no mater how many times your car spun around.

3. When you ride in an ambulance its less scary when you take someone you know.   And, there are people kind enough to ride in the ambulance with you even though they hardly know you at all.  There are real live angels among us!

4. When you are in an Emergency Room of a local hospital – burn your socks after walking on the floor, and don’t look too closely at the walls.  Don’t expect the doctors to have any idea – or to really care what Cowden’s Syndrome is, and how it affects your body.

5. There are some really really nice insurance people, and some really obnoxious ones.

6. Many doctors do not accept “no fault” insurance, so finding one to check you out may be a challenge.

7. The pain is worse before it gets better.

8. The pain of being told you are more liable than the guy speeding through the school zone simply because th stop sign is on your side of the intersection may not be physical, but it hurts your pride.  Especially when you know you handled it right.  It  is hard to get over hurt pride, but you can find peace with a clean conscience.  So glad I have one.

9. It doesn’t matter much to anyone that the guy who hit you didn’t even try to stop, swerve, honk, or perform any evasive maneuver before plowing through you.  It’s all about the stop sign.

10. Whiplash, and muscle spasms are real.  Muscle relaxants are useless because they can’t be taken during the day when you have to be a full-time teacher and mom, but they help you sleep a bit at night.

11. When you stop and consider your accident scene, and you realize all the things that could have gone so much worse, you are reassured that the angels really do watch over us.  (Thanks Angel Meghan… and all the others)

12. When you have Cowden’s Syndrome, and hamartomas on your spleen, they will send you for an abdominal sonogram right away, and then – like everyone else around here- be totally unsure what to do with the results.

13. Fax any important test results to a doctor you trust.  I am grateful the spleen didn’t rupture, but for those of you on my team, cheering for it to stay – cheer louder please.  The hamartomas are growing.  I will talk to my doctor at NYU this week.

14. When you are really at your lowest point, hurt, aggravated, and discouraged – make a decision to DO something positive. After realizing a child could have been easily injured in this mess,  I have established a petition for our local councilman to reevaluate the speed limit on the street where the accident occurred, and to label it a school zone, as well as to consider multiple two-way stops and speed bumps.  I have reached out to the local “Improvement Society” who already reached out to DOT on my behalf.  I have parents in my school fully supporting me and working to gain signatures on a petition.  Their children’s lives are in danger every day.  I want some things to change to make the children safer.

15. It is more fun shopping for a new car when you are ready to buy one, but my husband is helping make our current search more pleasant.  Always marry someone with a sense of humor.

16. Wear your seat belt!  Darn it if Cowden’s Syndrome isn’t going to kill me – a car accident won’t either.  So glad I was buckled up.

17. Those silicone implants can take a good hit.  Thankfully – nothing popped!

18.  I am not going on the teacups at Disney World ever again.  I have had enough spinning for a life time!

There… not a “Total Loss” at all…

to-be-continued

Thankful for… that first piece of pie!

I was going to avoid boring everyone with the same drivel that has been written over and over today, but I couldn’t resist.

It’s hard not to think about what you are thankful for on a day earmarked for reflection.

So, here it goes…

I am thankful for my husband.  He stays behind the scenes all the time.  He never looks for the credit in anything we do, yet he is the driving force behind our marriage and our family.  He knows when to make me laugh, and when to hold my hand.  I am not sure how I could have gotten through this year (or the 12 before it) without him.

I am thankful for my daughter.  She reminds me every day what is important in life.  She inspires me to push through adversity, and to keep on going – even when the going gets rough.  We share a lot (maybe more than I would like… darn Cowden’s Syndrome) and I could not ever ask for a kinder, more compassionate, loving daughter.  Even on the days we go head to head – I am the proudest Mom.

I am thankful for my “furry children,” my Allie and Lucky.  Their unceasing loyalty, their love and companionship bring such joy to all of us.  Plus – there is nothing like rubbing a belly on a stressed out day to make you feel better!

I am thankful for my parents, and their “being there.”  Sometimes that’s all you need is for someone to be there.

I am thankful for my siblings… all of them so very different, yet all so incredibly important to me.  I am thankful that even on the days we don’t see eye to eye – our love is strong,

I am thankful for my nephews, and the joy they bring, just by being themselves.

I am thankful beyond words for my grandparents.  Their support through these last 39 years, has been pivotal in my development as a person.  I am certainly a better, wiser, stronger woman – having learned from their example.  I continue to learn from them each day; lessons of love and compassion.  Not many people my age are so fortunate. 

I am thankful for my home – more this year.  I celebrate the fact that we passed through “Superstorm Sandy” virtually unscathed.  I am prayerful for those who have lost so much, and I am trying so hard -to recognize the “small things.”

I am thankful for my friends – near and far.  I am thankful for my local friends, my college friends, my friends from work.  I am thankful for the friends I see often, and the ones I hardly see at all.  I am thankful for my “cyber” friends, that I have “met” through support groups, and this blog.  The joy of knowing you are not alone can never be understated.

I am thankful for my health.  I know that may sound strange, considering the whole premise of this blog is about a genetic disorder that compromises the health of myself and my daughter – but hear me out.  I have this year alone undergone 2 major operations, and recovered.  I survived breast cancer without ever needing treatment.  I am able to walk, to run, to care for my child, to exercise, and move freely about my world.  While I have health concerns, and Meghan and I will always have them – I recognize how much health we do have, and I am thankful.

Finally, and the one thing that brought the biggest smile to my face all day – I am thankful for my daughter’s first piece of pie.

Meghan has always had food allergies – gluten, dairy and soy.  This year we made her a pie by rolling out her cookie dough as the crust.  We filled the middle with coconut milk ice cream, and topped it with her syrup.  She was so excited.  It wasn’t until I cut her a piece and she asked me how she was supposed to eat it, that I realized she had never had pie.  Sometimes the little things – are the big things!

Happy Thanksgiving one and all.

It’s not all about us

And this is how the day started.  With thoughts of Friday.  Never a good way to start the week.  I am not one to try to wish my life away, but is it so wrong if I prefer days with my family over anything else in the world?

But, we got it together and got out of the house on time. 

Waiting for Meghan to get on the bus, a car doing about 65 speeds down our street.  As I refrain from the words I want to yell, I quickly say a prayer to myself – that his stupidity and selfishness doesn’t bring harm to anyone else.  I am always appalled – and I don’t care how late you are – by the callous disregard for human life it takes to speed past a school bus.  UGH!

Pretty much that sums up how the day continued.  There is a sense of urgency in everyone it seems – except about what really matters.

Now I don’t claim to have it all together all the time.  And I don’t claim to be free of frustration.  Nor do I deny that the ,”Why Me?” bug does bite us all here sometimes.

But, I am still amazed by people who are so narrow-minded that they can’t see the world from someone else’s point of view.  I am still deeply troubled by people who won’t take a minute to try to put themself in someone else’s shoes.  And I am horrified by those so self – absorbed that they speed past school buses, and generally have little regard for human life.

Maybe that’s it.  Maybe I feel like too many people don’t realize how precious life is.

I don’t mean it as a morbid thought – but it really is true.  I look at my grandparents, still married  – 67 years later at 92 and 93, and they always kiss each other goodbye when they go out.  I would hope they will be with us forever, but reality is what reality is, and they take a moment to express their love – often.  So many people could learn life lessons from my grandparents.  They are role models to be emulated in so many ways.

Ist Holy Communion 2011, with GiGi and Pop

It shouldn’t take a rare disease.  Cowden’s Syndrome or any other are not prerequisites for compassion.  You shouldn’t need to have cancer, or multiple surgeries, or scary benign tumors, or to live in fear of any of the above, before you realize the value of life.

We are in a waiting period here.  No major new doctor news.  The headaches Meghan was suffering with have subsided, but I still need to get a neurology consult together for her.  The joint pain is returning, slowly, one spot at a time.  It is manageable still, but the requests for supplemental pain medicine are starting to take place at least 3 times a week.  Hoping that the 100mg of Celebrex will be enough to keep her comfortable, maybe until they find the reason for her pain.  We go to the eye doctor in 2 weeks.  The cardiologist is the beginning of December.  He will hopefully tell us that the one too many prescriptions required to keep my little love functional are not harming her heart.  Then – on the 27th of December – its on to the endocrinologist to check those thyroid nodules.  That same week we will sneak in an MRI of my spleen (which, I am still KEEPING btw..)  But, for now we are in a holding pattern and it is a good place to be.

Of course, being in a holding pattern gives my girl time to think.  While we wait word on the necklace from the Global Genes Project,

she is already planning our next fund-raising adventure.  I am currently on the hunt for denim ribbon so she can outfiit her school in denim ribbons for “Rare Disease Day,” February 28th.  And, with a few whispers in her ear from a special third grade teacher, she has begun to ask if we can “pull off a 5k run” for the Global Genes Project.

So, I put a few feelers out.  We will keep you posted.

I will be practicing looking at the world through the bright eyes of my child.  She sees a lull in doctors as an opportunity to spend time helping others.  There has to be a bunch of lessons there.

Take a minute to breathe.  Time passes so quickly.  Hug a loved one.  Look at the world through someone else’s eyes.

I have always known these things on some level – but Cowden’s Syndrome has brought them to the forefront of who I am.

Cowden’s Syndrome took…

Well, it took my thyroid, or at least any functioning part, long before I knew why.

It took my boobs in the prophylactic mastectomy that wasn’t so much prophylactic.

Cowden’s Syndrome took my uterus.  But I didn’t need it anyway.

It took my ovaries, but it gave me hot flashes in return.  Fair trade?

Cowden’s Syndrome took my checkbook, and used it for copays, and parking lots.

It took my calendar – and filled it with all sorts of places I didn’t want to be.

Cowden’s Syndrome took away my peace of mind, and filled it with worry.  (OK, MORE worry…)

It took my appetite.  If you don’t count Cheerios, ice cream, and salad.

It took away all my comfortable clothes, and has forced me to replace them in smaller sizes that appropriately cover my fake boobs, without losing track of them in shirts that are too large.

BUT,

it gave me the means and the motivation for education and early detection.

It gave me the motivation to step forward and say, “I don’t need THESE any more.”

Because I have Cowden’s Syndrome I will not suffer at the hands of breast or uterine cancer, and I will do my damndest to make sure my little girl doesn’t either.

Cowden’s Syndrome gave me the courage to fire clueless doctors, and educate the ones who care.

I encountered an acquaintance with breast cancer today.  She had on a beautiful wig, and is in the middle of chemotherapy.  I felt guilty as she asked me how I was feeling.  She knew of my ordeal last spring.  Survivor’s guilt I think.  It broke my heart to see her hurting, even though I feel she will be well again.

Cowden’s Syndrome SUCKS, in so many ways.  But it is part of us now, and like anything that becomes part of you, I believe you have to yank the good out of it.

Cowden’s Syndrome has taken a lot from me, from us in this house.  But the knowledge we have gained will give us second chances that some others may never have.

Cowden’s Syndrome took from my body – but in many ways it gave to my soul.

Perspective.

Bra-less in Walt Disney World!

I just returned from 9 days in sunny, HOT Florida with my family.  We had our 5th annual trip to Disney to celebrate Meghan‘s birthday August 9th.  I now officially have a 9 year old!

The trip was great, and I will have loads of things to share over the next few days, so bear with me.  But this is the thought I had to share first.

I spent 9 days in Florida and I didn’t wear a bra – not once.

Now I was never huge.  Prior to my mastectomy I was a B cup, C if I had gained a few pounds or wanted to make myself feel better.  So, when I was discussing my reconstruction options for the new boobs with the plastic surgeon, she was a little surprised when I told her I wanted immediate implants instead of tissue expanders.

She told me that just isn’t the way they do things anymore.  She said she wouldn’t have enough skin to maintain my existing size.  So I said, “OK, go smaller.”  Now she was a pretty small woman herself, but she still spoke to me for quite a long time, wanting to be sure I understood what I was saying.

I did.  You see my surgery was as much about my daughter as it was about me.  I knew that tissue expanders required fills.  I knew that that meant more trips to the doctor.  I knew that it meant an additional surgery for the implants, and I knew several people who had suffered enormous infections with them.  I also knew I had to get home to my daughter and get about the business of recovering – quickly.  So, if that meant I had to go down to an A cup – so be it.  It supported the weight loss all the recent stress has brought.

After the surgery I wasn’t unhappy at all with the “new” girls.  Once healed I got used to them, and grew more confident.  So, when I went shopping for vacation I got a little daring.

All those shelf bra tops. the yoga ones, and the skinny strap camisole tops – well I had a few, and I bought a few smaller ones.  Then, I tried them on with no bra.  THAT was something I never dared to do before.  I jumped, I bounced. I checked.  Nothing moved.  And, since I lost my nipples to the surgery – nothing stuck out.

Well I spent 9 days in Florida, with minimal hot flashes, helped along by my moisture wicking tops, and no bra.

Best part of all, I am sure NO one had a clue.

After all that has gone on, if I don’t find the bright side, I will crack up.  So here it is, just for you – the shots of me Bra-less in Walt Disney World!

You STILL don’t LOOK sick (reblog from 5/26/12)

We are headed home tomorrow from a wonderful family vacation. I will have lots of lovely things to tell you about the fun we had and the great people we encountered. Unfortunately there are still some ignorant people… even here, who do not realize you can look perfectly healthy and still be “sick.” There were a few times… especially today when the monorail operator gave us an attitude when we asked for a ramp into the handicap accessible car (even though her chair is clearly marked as a wheelchair.) People can be so frustratingly ignorant. She notices now, and it bothers her, but she is awesome, and she tells me she hopes they never know what it’s like because no one should feel this way. So here it is one more time…

beatingcowdens's avatarbeatingcowdens

“You don’t look sick!”

If I had a dollar for every time someone directed that comment at my daughter or I, I would be retired – a wealthy woman.

We don’t “look” sick.  As a matter of fact we look alike.  A lot alike. It’s probably due to the fact that I, having the ‘honor’ of being the first in my family known to have the PTEN mutation that causes Cowden’s Syndrome.  To look at us, you would see a vibrant mother and daughter duo – 8 and 38.

When I push her through Disney World in her modified wheel chair each summer, I get the stares that say “spoiled.”  When I pushed her through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer walk last fall so we could support my mom, a survivor, someone actually said “Why don’t you get the ten year old out of the stroller?”  Actually she is 8, and she would…

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