worry – Page 11 – beatingcowdens

Fighting My Way Out of the Cage

Published on September 18, 2012 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

A few days ago I wrote about my dog Lucky – biting through the cage. Well she got her wish, and she is a free dog now. Free to roam around my house, lay where she wants, and drink when she wants. She is much calmer and happier now. It doesn’t take much to make her happy.

Why then can I not take her lead? Why am I living in the cage of my own thoughts?

My husband, he has the right idea. He worries only when it is absolutely necessary. I worry about making sure the stove is turned off. He worries when the house catches fire. Maybe it’s a male/ female thing. Maybe it’s my controlling OCD. Who knows? What I do know is he is MUCH healthier than I am mentally.

I am still quite sane, but admittedly neurotic. Some say it was inevitable after the year we have had. I think it stretched back much farther. I could say parenting a not so healthy child has done it, but if I am honest, I think I have always been this way.

I just read a Facebook friend’s post. She talked about her brain continuing 24/7 even when she asks it not to. That’s EXACTLY how I feel.

I am sure the Cowden’s Syndrome, the mastectomy, the breast cancer, the hysterectomy, the tumors on the spleen, the cyst on the kidney, and the constant screening tests aren’t helping. And those are just mine – not Meghan‘s! We average 3 doctors a week, usually at least 2 on the schedule and a pop up. Each one seems to look, poke and prod and not offer a single answer. Then the tests lead to more tests. It’s a bad cycle we are in here. So then I spend my spare time researching – thinking maybe I can find the answers they don’t know. I end up just as clueless and thoroughly exhausted. Sometimes you have to stop biting at the cage, realize the answers aren’t there yet, and realize you have the power to let yourself out. I am “luckier” than my dog Lucky – no pun intended. I have the benefit of being able to free myself. I just never seem to get it quite right.

I am going to try that one day at a time thing again. I am going to try to concentrate on all the many things that have gone right. I will TRY to worry less when my daughter’s WBC is frighteningly low, while I wait for the retest. I will worry less about West Nile Virus, and just try to treat the 8 mosquito bites on the leg of my immune compromised kid. I swear I will try. It’s not going to be easy though.

When you see me in a fit of worry, feel free to give me a “cyber” smack into reality. ONE DAY AT A TIME!

TODAY – good things happened. I got through the baseline screening colonoscopy and endoscopy. The colonoscopy was completely CLEAN! I do not have to go back for another 3 YEARS! Beats the heck out of the every 6 months they were recommending for Cowden’s patients. Also, my CLEAN scope frees up my little girl for a while. As long as mine stay clean they won’t start screening her until she is at least 18. Breathe. Some minor biopsies on the endoscopy but the doctor is expecting a CLEAN pathology.

For me, for my daughter, for my husband, and for ALL of us who are fighting our way out of the cage. We can do it – one day at a time!

Every Day is a Great Adventure!

Published on September 9, 2012September 10, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

Ever feel like you lived a few days all at once? Yep. Today would be one of those days. From the physical to the emotional – I am shot. And it is only the BEGINNING of the week!

We walked today, my mom, my friend and I. When Mom picked me up this morning we were both a little grumpy. then we both cried a little. It just seemed wrong heading out without Meghan. But I took some solace in the fact that when I kissed her at 6:30 AM her skin was blessedly cool to the touch. Maybe it was over.

So we picked up our friend, and determined to enjoy the sunshine, we were in central Park a few minutes after 7. Professionals by now, we do all of our shopping, and gathering of “free stuff,” then we walk it to the car so we can race pretty much unencumbered. And Meghan, for having not been there, made out quite well in a wide array of paid items and “free stuff.” Well deserved!

Manhattan was crowded as ever, but thanks to my aggressive little Mom we were up close to the front when the race began. We moved aside to allow for the runners and then had a really enjoyable walk without the tight crowds we sometimes experience. We got to chat and walk, and enjoy each other and the sunshine.

RFTC2 — Holding the banners Meghan made for us

At the finish line. Aren’t we pretty in pink? 🙂

So after a fun and exhausting morning we headed home. Meghan was so thrilled that we hadn’t forgotten about her. I was less than thrilled to see her on the couch, a clear indicator that the fever returned.

So, just like that came the transformation from walker to Mom. We started making plans for who would watch her Monday. She reminded us about her friend, and ours, a neighbor who loves her like she is her own. Meghan said, “Just ask Patty!” So I did. Patty will be here at 7:15.
Thinking it was all taken care of, we sent Meghan for a nap. Restless a few minutes later, the thermometer revealed a scary 104.2. Knowing what he would say, I had to call the pediatrician anyway. That number is too high for me. So, he happened to be in his office and invited us to come in. (I adore my pediatrician.)

He spent a few minutes sizing her up. The Tylenol was starting to work and she was down to 103.7. After an agonizing 20 minutes he sent us for blood work at a local ER. I am not a big fan of the local hospitals, but thought perhaps a brief visit MIGHT be ok. Not so much.

In the literally blood spattered walls of a tiny room with no access to TV or cell phone, we sat while they took 2 blood cultures and a CBC. She admitted at 4 PM with a fever of 102.9. They gave her a dose of Motrin. We waited for the blood for almost 2 hours. As I grew anxious they told me they were having trouble finding it. Almost ready to leave, it turned up – with a terribly low white blood cell count, but nothing else noteworthy. We left quickly, being discharged at 6:30 with 99.4, having learned/remembered 2 things.

1. It is not OK – even for a short visit, and

2. Motrin – Motrin – Motrin

We had a hard time deciding who got to shower first as we cleaned off the filth we had just been in. Dinner, some TV, WINE(for me – not her!), and it was off to bed. Fever free at 8:30.

Headed up now for the 11PM Clindamycin. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Every day is a great adventure!

“It’s not fair!”

Published on August 27, 2012August 27, 2012 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

“It’s NOT fair Daddy!” Came the screech from the basement. I held my breath.

“You can’t do that Daddy! It’s NOT fair!”

When I heard my husband return the challenge with an “Oh yeah? Watch this!” I knew all was well. The giggling that followed sealed the deal.

I couldn’t help but find it a bit ironic that of all the things that have gone on in her life, she chooses a helicopter game in the basement with her Dad, to shout the words,”IT’S NOT FAIR!”

She didn’t use those words once, all summer, when we spent what I equate to an OBSCENE amount of hours in doctor’s offices and waiting rooms. She didn’t utter those words as she was poked and prodded and asked the same questions over and over. “They never find the answers anyway, Mommy.”

She didn’t tell me it wasn’t fair, when instead of planning playdates, or camp experiences we were trekking back and forth to Manhattan, for her, or for me. She simply wiggled in the play time when there was room.

This morning, when I sprung on her the idea that she needed bloodwork, after the bank, and before the orthodontist, she could have EASILY told me. “It’s not fair!” And I would have understood. I know very few people who have given up more blood than she has. And when the lab was full, and we had to come back later, so she could think about it all day, she definitely could have told me, “It’s not fair!” But she didn’t.

This morning when we learned that her braces are imminent, and that she is going to need to contend with them in addition to her new grade and ever changing body – I expected a yell. Nope. “Won’t it be great to have them off before most of my friends even get theirs on?”

So as I scheduled one more MRI this week. This one for her, to make sure the pituitary is its proper size with no extra features… I thought it would be a big foot stamping, “It’s not fair!” Nothing. Just the typical, “Can you stay, and will I need a needle?” Followed by, “I hope I can watch a movie this time because I don’t like having my head done.” How disturbing that this will be her third brain MRI.

This has been one hell of a summer, following one seriously wild spring. I have lost count of the appointments, and it is probably better. They aren’t going anywhere and we will continue to have to roll with it. As the last week of summer vacation comes to a close, and I lament the lack of relaxation, the cleaning that never happened, the day trips that never came to pass, I want to shout, “IT”S NOT FAIR!”

But then I look at my 9 year old. Wise beyond her years. Content to live in this house where she is so loved and appreciated. We have had many talks about the suffering of others through the years, and especially this year. She knows she is not alone in having a tough path to travel. She also knows it could be worse.

Maybe that contributes to the poise and grace under pressure. Maybe that is why she is so insanely mature. Or maybe, in the midst of the chaos that is Cowden’s Syndrome, we – her father and I – are just the luckiest parents in the world.

Life's not fair — But God is good – all the time!

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

Published on August 15, 2012August 17, 2012 by beatingcowdens1 Comment

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

“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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Frustration…

Published on July 12, 2012July 12, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

It felt like anger at first, but it isn’t. Sometimes even at my age I forget things I already knew about myself.

I cry when I am frustrated and overwhelmed.

I am not really angry. That takes up too much energy and I have none to spare. To be angry there has to be a target of your anger. And really, who or what am I going to be angry at? And what purpose would it serve?

Now frustrated is a different story. Frustrated is when the control freak can’t sit long enough to organize the pile on her desk.

Frustrated is the dead sod in the yard, and the cucumber and zucchini that seem to have developed a “creeping crud” fungal infection.

Frustrated is when old “life” problems, like credit and identity theft issues that were solved three years ago start taking up time, and there isn’t much to spare.

Frustrated is when you can’t get a doctor who takes your insurance (despite countless phone calls) to order the tests you need so you can stay well enough to be on top of the (not so bright) doctors who are treating your daughter.

Frustrated is trying to plan some FUN events when doctors appointments keep getting in the way.

Super frustrated is having to go to NYC to see the knee surgeon tomorrow, on a perfectly nice – I should be scheduling a play date for my kid- kind of day. Frustrated is being unsure how to get my point across without being escorted out by security, and/or without scaring my kid.

Frustrated is going to the appointment alone- when I really want my husband there, but knowing it is not the kind of appointment he should take off work for.

Frustrated is wanting so badly to let some of this worry go, and knowing I can’t.

Frustrated is a new medical issue, every time I turn my head.

A toddler girl crying (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Frustration IS Cowden’s x2!

Sometimes I cry when I am frustrated… but everything always looks better in the morning. ( I hope!)

Still waiting…

Published on July 3, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

WARNING – This post may be uncharacteristically whiny and cranky. It is boring, and lacks any pictures or “fun stuff.” Maybe its the heat. Maybe its the start of menopause, or maybe, just MAYBE it’s the WAITING!

So, last year when we were first diagnosed with the Cowden’s Syndrome, the geneticist suggested my daughter and I each be followed regularly by an oncologist who would act as a ‘case manager’ of sorts. Seemed logical. We got Meghan set up with a doctor in NYC. She actually has experience treating “patients like us.” We thought we were golden. She ordered the initial scans for Meghan (and even for me) of the brain. She ordered Meghan’s thyroid sonogram, and her biopsy last November.

Well, that biopsy was a traumatic train wreck to say the least. To make it worse, when we spoke to the oncologist about it she was defensive of the doctor she had sent us to. We moved the biopsy slides to another hospital and she was obviously annoyed. She is still Meghan’s oncologist of record, but we haven’t seen her in months.

I tried an oncologist here at home. He listened, the first visit, and the second. On the second visit he suggested I look into having the remainder of my thyroid removed prophylactically. He gave me the name of a surgeon and told me to go ASAP. So, when I called to make an appointment with the surgeon and he wouldn’t see me, I called my oncologist back. He would not get on the phone with me, and would not call the doctor on my behalf. I was livid, but found myself an endocrine surgeon who (at least for now) advised against removing the rest of my thyroid.

When I called my oncologist back in late January to schedule my breast MRI. I was told it was too early. I reminded them that February marked 6 months since my last, and in fact it was right on time. They refused to authorize the MRI until late March. Well, we know how that turned out. When they called me with the authorization number I laughed at the irony of the whole thing, and told them I didn’t need another appointment.

So, there was the mastectomy in March. Great surgeons, great catch, great job.

There was the hysterectomy in May. Again, great surgeon. Job well done.

The surgeon in May recommended an oncologist in her practice for me. I called to make an appointment. I was told to fax my paperwork. I asked if they could just look in my chart. It is all shared between the doctors. No, please fax it. Ok – 39 pages later – and a huge fight with my fax machine… I got it.

They called today to tell me the oncologist thinks I should see a geneticist instead. Gee isn’t that ingenious? That is how I got diagnosed to begin with. Dope. They will look into it and call me back.

I am starting to feel like PTEN mutation is some sort of plague. What is WRONG with these people?

Which brings me back to my girl. In February the surgeon(who people travel the world to see) for her AVM said that her next surgery would need to be at Boston Children’s Hospital. They were not sure exactly when, but July was floated as a possibility. So we went last Thursday, the 28th of June for her MRI. After a grueling 2 hours, we left with a CD in hand, and the promise that the results would be at the NY surgeon’s office Monday.

I took the copy of the disk I had, put a cover letter on it, and sent it to the Boston surgeon we met in April, promising him a report would soon follow.

Monday I called the NY surgeon for the results. I was told the disk hadn’t arrived. They would call me. I called again this morning. I reminded the receptionist that I really was anxious about the results. It’s on his desk she told me. She also told me he leaves today for vacation till Monday. I asked her to be sure someone calls me today. I carried my cell phone ALL day.

It’s 10:04. I guess I will be waiting till Monday. Really? I know it could be worse. It could always be worse, but enough with the lack of compassion, the inability, and lack of desire to follow through. Enough with being scared of treating us because you don’t quite understand what we have. Enough WAITING!

Cowden’s Syndrome – The Elephant in the room

Published on June 23, 2012June 26, 2012 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

“Elephant in the room” is an English metaphorical idiomfor an obvious truth that is being ignored or goes unaddressed. The idiomatic expression also applies to an obvious problem or risk no one wants to discuss.- Wikipedia

Cowden’s Syndrome is the “Elephant in the room.” It is always there. It is never going away. Yet, most people – even immediate family- don’t want to discuss it because it makes them worried or uncomfortable. They would prefer to justify to themselves that your constant worry, and never-ending list of appointments are nothing more than paranoia and nonsense.

The “elephant” made its way into our house last fall. It’s not leaving. So we are working on respecting it, and treating it as the oversized house guest it is. Feed it too much and it will become more overpowering in its sheer volume. Ignore it and forget about it, and well… a hungry elephant can do some damage.

What brought me to all this metaphorical thinking today? It is likely to sound quite silly, but it was an earache.

Now, granted it was not an ordinary earache, the whole side of my head hurt, and still does. But the point is prior to my diagnosis, prior to my knowledge of Cowden’s Syndrome, it would have been “just an earache.”

Instead, I woke this morning in terrible pain. I was dizzy and uncomfortable. I immediately started remembering all the times I was dizzy or out of sorts this week. I have no fever, no cold, no signs of infection, no real reason for this pain. Yet, it was bad enough for me to drive to the Urgent Care center at 9 on a Saturday morning.

I waited for the doctor nervously. I recounted my symptoms to him. Here they know nothing of Cowden’s or chronic issues – they simply treat what they see. So, he looked in my ear and said, “It’s not red, there is no swelling, and no sign of infection.”

My heart sank.

That should have been very good news. He was sending me with a script for ear drops “just in case,” but not to worry – “there is no problem.”

No problem except, my ear feels like it is going to explode, the whole side of my head is sore, and all I can think about is “What if there is a tumor in there?”

This is not a rational response to an earache. I know it isn’t. I am also pretty sure there is no tumor anywhere near my ear. But, this is how Cowden’s Syndrome can change your perception of reality, heighten your anxiety, and keep your worries hopping.

If the doctor had told me I had an ear infection I would have been thrilled. Instead I have unexplained ear pain, dizziness, and worry.

I am sure it will get better in a few days. That’s what I keep telling myself. But what if it doesn’t?

Cowden’s Syndrome – the elephant in the room.

“Every little thing gonna be all right…”

Published on June 14, 2012 by beatingcowdensLeave a comment

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mACqcZZwG0k

Bob Marley – “Three Little Birds”

“Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Rise up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin’ sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin’, (“This is my message to you-ou-ou:”)

Singin’: “Don’t worry ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry (don’t worry) ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Rise up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin’ sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin’, “This is my message to you-ou-ou:”

Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don’t worry!”
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing” – I won’t worry!
“‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”

Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right” – I won’t worry!
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing, oh no!
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!

I can imagine sitting on the deck by the pool. Oh, wait – the surgeon hasn’t cleared me to swim. And, I still need a bathing suit.

The cute tankini I bought was vetoed by my husband who thinks it makes my boobs look fake. LMAO at the irony of that!

Well, at least I can imagine sitting on the deck with a strong cocktail in hand… working to convince myself that every little thing is gonna be all right.

My daughter’s much awaited appointment was today. The sonogram was at 1, and the doctor at 3:30.

The sonogram was thorough – took almost 45 minutes. The doctor reviewed the images, but could not give us a clear decision until he uploads the CD I brought with last September’s sonogram images for comparison.

For right now he said things looked good. There are MANY nodules, but most are smaller than one cm. He is content to keep watching every 6 months if he doesn’t find anything on comparison that warrants a closer look. Somewhere this has to be good news, although I am always afraid to get too relaxed, so I am waiting for the phone call.

What boggled me was how laid back he was about the puberty. He told me even though she won’t turn 9 until August and she has been developing a good 6 months, that it is not too early. He said to leave it alone. Apparently she and I are the only 2 concerned. I have been super upbeat about all the changes to her, but I can’t help it. In my belly it just feels WRONG.

Maybe I am just too used to worrying. And there are reasons for that. Its seems to be all we do. Sometimes good news gets to be harder to process because it comes so rarely. Sometimes it is almost odd to hear that things are “normal.”

So, we will wait for the phone call to confirm. Then we will table the thyroid issue till December.

Next up for my girl, MRI/MRA of her knee. June 28th.

For me, well, I need to find a dermatologist, someone to screen my kidneys, someone to follow the tumor on my spleen… oh, and I need a bathing suit. According to my dear husband, one that doesn’t make my (fake) boobs look fake.

And, a LARGE cocktail with a cute little umbrella, and some Bob Marley in the background…

Every little thing IS gonna be all right!

Ready or not!

Published on June 13, 2012 by beatingcowdens2 Comments

Time is a strange phenomenon.

It just doesn’t stop. There are days we would like it to go slower, and days we would like it to go MUCH faster.

There are days we would like to relive, and those we would gladly forget. But really, we have no control at all.

60 seconds in a minute

60 minutes in an hour

24 hours in a day

7 days in a week

52 weeks in a year

I find there are occasions when I would like time to hurry up. When I am waiting for my daughter to get out of surgery is the best example. Time can’t go fast enough. When I am waiting on pathology results, for any of us – it always seems like forever.

When we were first diagnosed with Cowden’s Syndrome in the fall, the first thing they did was send my daughter for a thyroid sonogram. Of course it revealed 4 large nodules which we subsequently had biopsied at a hospital no better than a butcher shop.

As we sought out another opinion, and moved the slides to a much more reputable facility, an appointment in January found us with a pediatric endocrinologist who actually had some experience with Cowden’s. He told us he had reviewed the slides and noted precancerous cells. He essentially told us our daughter would have thyroid cancer at some point, he just could not say when. So, he told us to return in 6 months, and we would check again.

I remember at the time thinking 6 months was an eternity. I wanted it to be faster. I wanted reassurance that she was well. He was insistent that 6 months was appropriate.

So we made the appointment for June 14th. Now June 14th is tomorrow. And I think I may need a little more time before I am ready. Things have changed. Now we have an 8 year old with a developing body, and labs that don’t match. Now the reality that there could be a malignancy on her thyroid, actually helping cause some of these problems is making me want to vomit.

If we could slow things down… just a little?

15 hours from now we will be sitting for the thyroid sonogram, and 17 hours from now we will be discussing the results with the doctor.

I am trying to prepare myself for whatever he has to say. I have to hope for answers, for her sake.

Even if they aren’t the ones I want. Too many open questions. Too much time had passed.

Ready or not, here we come!

Forgive my whining…

Published on June 3, 2012June 3, 2012 by beatingcowdens4 Comments

… but no one else seems to want to listen.

I am tired. Not just the physical tired, but the mental and emotional tired too.

My body is exhausted. Tomorrow I head back to work. Two major surgeries in 3 months. I think my incisions might be healed, but I am just so wiped out.

This recovery from my hysterectomy has been nothing short of obnoxious. The bleeding seems to have subsided, and the pain is gone. The restrictions are still in place, but the hardest part has been feeling so damn alone.

Days go by, the phone doesn’t ring. Not a text message to check in. Not expecting fanfare here, but a little love from my friends and family would be nice. Now there are a few. There are always a few… but even with them, I am lonely.

That loneliness hasn’t helped me feel better. No. Not one bit. Combine that with the fact that my dear husband, who truly tries his best, is in school 2 nights a week, and has worked more overtime in the last 2 weeks than he has since December. He can’t say no. Not in this economy. And he so rarely gets called. Timing sucks.

So it has been me, and my girl. She is awesome. Yesterday when we realized Daddy definitely wouldn’t be home, and we were dangerously low on food, she came to the grocery store with me. She didn’t let me lift a thing. She packed the cart, packed the bags, and carried them right into the house. She is awesome. But, she is tired too. She is always willing to take care of me. But she is 8. A friend would make for a much better weekend.

So, today I took her with me to a meeting at my church. Remember a few weeks ago when I said, “I don’t have a problem with God…it’s His fan club…?” Well that is getting more true by the day. I can actually say I was disgusted by my minister, and a large portion of my church. The church where I have grown up for the last 38 years. Things are tenuous between the pastor and myself, I would say largely due to his LACK of support, but he did not even greet my daughter or myself at the meeting. She is so astute. I am trying to channel her energy away from anger, but she feels the hurt in me.

I know there is a plan here. One larger than me, larger than any of us. I do believe strongly in God and His guiding hand. I have been blessed with several miracles, and witnessed others. I know He is here, but I do not often understand His plan.

So, in the midst of all the chaos, the drama, and the confusion, I seek solace in music. I remind myself that these people who are so painfully absent – don’t mean to be hurtful. Those full of drama are lacking the bigger picture. I never lose touch with the reality that I am not the only life struggling. There are so many others, so much worse off. But for now, for right this minute, it doesn’t change the fact that I am sad, scared, and lonely. No one really wants to hear it, because they can’t fix it. But its true.

I have always believed everyone does the best they can with what they have where they are. So, even amidst my sadness, I do not have anger. People have their reasons.

Tomorrow I will go back to work. I will smile brightly as if I was without a care in the world. Even if my bones ache from exhaustion, and my heart aches to share this pain with those I love, I will smile. I will get through the days, one at a time. And I will always have a song in my heart to help me.

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

“He Said”
(feat. Chris August)

So your life feels like it don’t make sense
And you think to yourself, ‘I’m a good person’
So why do these things keep happening?
Why you gotta deal with them?You may be knocked down now
but don’t forget what He said, He saidI won’t give you more, more then you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break
and No-o-o-o-o, I’ll never ever let you go-o-o-o-o
Don’t you forget what He saidWho you are ain’t what your going through
So don’t let it get the best of you
Cause God knows everything you need,
so you ain’t gotta worryYou may be knocked down now
but just believe what He said, He said

I won’t give you more, more then you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break
and No-o-o-o-o, I’ll never ever let you go-o-o-o-o
Don’t you forget what He said

Don’t fear when you go through the fire
Hang on when it’s down to the wire
Stand tall and remember what He said

I won’t give you more, more then you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break…

I won’t give you more, more then you can take
and I might let you bend, but I won’t let you break
and No-o-o-o-o, I’ll never ever let you go-o-o-o-o
Don’t you forget what He said