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…

Happy 2nd “Boob Day!”

My math mind is full of numbers.  It is full of lots of things actually, and sometimes I wish I could get a few of them out… quite a few.

I am pretty good – although not perfect- with dates.

Today marks three months since my father died.  Flying free with the angels I am sure, yet I miss him.  A lot.  A blink of an eye, and an eternity.

Tomorrow is my nephew’s birthday.  He will be 6.

I remember his 4th birthday quite clearly, although I didn’t see him that day either.

On March 5th in 2012 I had the “prophylactic” bilateral mastectomy.  The one that ended up being stage 1 DCIS.  Quite the surprise party.

Happy Boob Day

And while I don’t even miss my old boobs, the new ones get scrutinized a lot more than the old ones.  Well meaning surgeons, they say things like “that kind of volume falling away is normal,”  or “we can even that out whenever you want.”  The thought of someone coming near me again with a scalpel right now makes me ill.  They will have their chance – years from now when these girls have to be replaced.  Maybe then I will have time to care more.

The last 2 years have been a whirlwind.  Well…maybe even before that.  The scope of the changes in our lives in recent years require more than I can muster in a 10 PM post.  But, being a numbers person…

2nd-birthday

Between Meghan and I we have had 5 surgeries in the last 2 years.  She has me beat 3 to 2.  But, I have lost more body parts.  I am down 2 breasts, a uterus and 2 ovaries.  She lost her thyroid, and a vascular cyst in her hand.

I am still crossing my fingers about my spleen.  That one’s up for MRI in April.  Hoping the 4 tumors there are behaving.

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There comes a point where you have to laugh I guess.  People think “Oh no! A mastectomy!!”

I think – “Whatever it takes…”  But then again I had a pretty good teacher. (XO MOM)

I guess it’s all about perspective.

Meghan is really into identity, and figuring out where she belongs.  This week I bought her a “Previvor” T shirt.  She was thrilled to wear it to school today.  She takes the opportunity to explain genetic cancer risks whenever she can.  While I am happy she is confident I shudder at reality.

This is only stage 1 in her life as a previvor, staying one step ahead of genetic cancer risks looming large.  This is only the beginning.

We run from doctor to doctor.  We alternate surgeries.  We try to laugh in between as we deal with the rest of life.  Time is very difficult to balance.  The constant running to doctors and the anxiety of waiting for them to find “something” can literally make you insane.

time struggle

If you let them.

And I think that’s probably the key.  And the message.

I am overwhelmed this week.  Really fried.  Having a tough time keeping it all together.

Then I think…

I was ahead of thyroid cancer 20 years ago before I knew the depth of the risk.

I am 2 years beyond the threat of breast cancer.

My girl is weeks past the looming thyroid cancer that threatened her.

Two years.  New boobs.  No sagging on this 40 something gal.

Plus I am a HELL of a lot better off than I was two years ago at this time!

Ash Wednesday.  Never raised to “give up” for Lent.  Rather to use it as a time for focus.

Time to get out of this funk.  Forget November.  Time to be thankful is right now.

And today I am thankful for this little girl whose diagnosis saved my life.

My body may be 40, but my boobs are only 2!

Thankful to God and this little chick!

This kid is clearly a "FORCE" to be reckoned with!
This kid is clearly a “FORCE” to be reckoned with!

FORCE

Thyroid PREvivor!

The phone  rang at about 7 PM.  It’s Friday night.  I did not expect the call to be from the nurse practitioner at the endocrinology office that manages Meghan’s care.

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Wednesday we went in for a surgical follow up appointment.  The incision is healing nicely.  She is still sore but cleared to return to school Monday… and swimming too.  While were there, they asked for some lab tests to be rerun.

Calcium levels which were botched Friday before discharge needed to be looked at again.  And the parathyroid hormone to make sure it was still functional.

Before we left the facility, we received word that the calcium levels were actually high.  No need for me to even start ranting again.

We were advised to keep her on the current supplementation level for 4 weeks, then wean her off and revisit the surgeon in 8 weeks.  We would also see the endocrinologist at that time.  Although, endocrinology would be ordering lots of labs in the mean time.  All of this I understand.

Except, when the nurse told me she was calling, at 7 on Friday night (when the results from Weds. labs were in the system on Weds) to tell me to keep Meghan on her baseline calcium (the Isagneix Calcium she has taken for almost a year) and lower the supplemental pills they gave from three to two.

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Seems logical.  EXCEPT when we were discharged in that debacle Friday night they altered the script from 3 to 2 already.  So so we go down to one?

The nurse stuttered, confused.  I still don’t think anyone understands what a mess they made out of her care on Friday.  No, she said.  We will rerun the calcium in a week.  Anyone want to wager that it will be too high?

As she went to hang up I asked about the pathology I had been waiting on pins and needles for.  Almost as an afterthought, she said she didn’t think it was in.  Then, “Oh, it’s right here… want me to send it to you?”

Um, YES.

“Everything seems ok, do you have a fax?”

YES!

And that was the end of the conversation.  Left to read the pathology report on my own I pored over it as best I could.  Confused that it was date stamped 6PM on Weds…. and I found out it was in by accident.  But, whatever…

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So without the aid of a doctor, and with my somewhat well developed medical vocabulary, everything looks to be

BENIGN!!!!

There are things about it I don’t like, of course.  Like that some of the “lumps” are referred to as nodules, while the three problematic ones are called “tumors.”  The largest of these tumors measured 2.4 x 1.3 x 1.3 cm, and the others were not that small either.  No wonder this kid was choking!  There is “hyperplasia” all over the place too.  But it seems like the bottom line is, we got in in time.

Cowden’s we BEAT YOU to it!

Of course there is no crystal ball.  There is no way to say for sure that it WOULD HAVE become cancerous, although I think we all know the reality.  There is no way to know if it could have stayed in a little longer, but I like to think eliminating the anxiety over the constant FNAs, which incidentally had caused quite a mess of scar tissue according to the surgeon (THANK YOU COWDENS!) will be the better choice in the end.

It is easy  easier, to make decisions about prophylactic organ removal when it is your own body.  You just do what you have to do and move on.  But my husband and I had to make the conscious decision to remove something from our child’s body.  Can she live without it?  Absolutely.  But just because you CAN live without something doesn’t always mean you should, and it doesn’t mean that removing it is without consequence or effect.

As a new mastectomy patient I read lots of stories of brave young women who had decided not to spend their lives waiting for cancer to get them.  They had taken steps, usually to get ahead of BRCA1 or BRCA2.  I immediately admired each of them.  They somewhere along the line coined the term “PREVIVOR.”

previvor

https://www.facingourrisk.org/FORCE_community/previvors.php

Primarily used to deal with the risk of hereditary breast and ovarian cancer, I think the term has a broader reach.  My girl does not need to be a thyroid cancer survivor.  She is a PREVIVOR.  She got there first.

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For this I am thankful.

BEATINGCOWDENS!

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

Reblogged, and worth the read

Sometimes you read a story that just needs to be retold.

This link will take you to the world of a young lady I “met” through my blog and have come to respect.

She does not share my same genetic mutation, hers is the BRA-CA gene, and mine is PTEN. But the breast cancer risks are ridiculous for both, and she bravely as a young twenty something, underwent a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.

In a rare request, she is asking for help, and I certainly feel compelled to share her reasonable request.

It is through social media that I have come to find others “like us,” to share mine and Meghan‘s story of our Cowden’s Syndrome battle. Without that outlet, I would feel incredibly lonely.

Please take a moment to read Rachel’s story, and another to respond to her request.

This world of genetic predisposition is terrifying, and should not be traveled alone.

Lori

Ticking Time Bombs

My mom is a member of the Los Angeles Pink Dragons, a dragon boat racing team of breast cancer survivors. She has been paddling with the Pinks for about a year now. Last night, one of her teammates passed away after a long battle with breast cancer. Frances was my mom’s benchmate on the boat. On the Pink Dragons’ Facebook page, Mom writes: “Frances, your courage and determination was an inspiration to all of us. Your teammates will miss you so. Rest in peace, dear friend.

Then scrolling down through my Facebook newsfeed, I was accosted by another heartwrenching message, this one from Bright Pink founder Lindsay Avner: “My heart breaks upon learning of the loss of Rebecca, a member of the Bright Pink Vermont family, who lost her battle to breast cancer at only 29 years old.”

29 years old.

Frances and Rebecca’s deaths are…

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