Today get better

I started out today in a funk, wishing Tanner felt better, wanting her to get up because the doctor and the P.T. said she should be able to, frustrated with the whole situation. I think we all learned a lot today. We upped her pain meds, which made a world of difference. She stayed awake longer, was much less whiny, sat up a lot on her own and even went outside some (around the block in a wagon, and in the back yard watching Jake play). We decided to trust her, not the doctors, when trying to determine what she is capable of doing right now and how much pain she is in. We didn’t push as much and she didn’t resist as much. We held our ground when we needed to and gave her as much control as we could over things that didn’t matter. Everything went better. In fact, we had the best medicine taking time that we’ve had in days. She actually accepted that she had to take it and was a trooper. She even opened up a little and told me she was really mad at the leukemia and mad at being sick. Amen little sister… you said a mouthful.

I think we’re finally realizing this is going to be a long, long process and there will be good days and bad days. On the good days we should make the best of them and not take them for granted. On the bad days, we’ll just hole up and sleep and cry if that makes us feel better… another good day will come.

Thank you all for the unending outpouring of support, good food, thoughtful gifts and prayers. We could not do this without you… really. And, if for some reason, we don’t remember to thank you with a personal email (I am not even going to attempt to write actual thank you notes for the many, many kindnesses, even though my Mother taught me better), please know we appreciated it mightily, but were busy kicking cancer’s butt and didn’t get it done. Please forgive us.

I’ll leave you with one sweet thought that came from the innocence of my two-year-old son. Jake adores Tanner and is so confused by her sudden disinterest in playing. Today when she was laying on the sofa, he reached down and gently rubbed her leg and then patted her really softly. He then laid his head down on her leg and smiled one of his best irresistible grins. Then, he stood up and said, “Yay! Jake made her better!”

Yeah, buddy, we’re all making her better with love.

Beth

We’re Home

Well, we’re home! Came home yesterday afternoon. Tanner was in the worst mood all morning at the hospital, but as soon as we got into the wheel chair to go home, she became her normal self again. Hugged the nurses and thanked them for taking such good care of her, played with her new iTouch in the car on the way home and had a tear-inspiring homecoming reunion with Jake. I thought, “This is going to be so much better than I thought. She’s going to be just fine.

Then, she got tired and took a nap. And woke up screaming, in pain, cranky, etc. My heart sank. The rest of the day was a battle. It’s so hard to know what to do. The physical therapist and doctor say she needs to get up and walk so she doesn’t lose her strength, but she feels so bad. Convincing a 5-year-old to do something they don’t want to do because it is for their own good is futile. So, we feel a little lost. Think I will call a friend whose child has leukemia and see how she coped. Maybe you just grit your teeth and barrel through until the end of this awful steroid course (another 25 LONG days) and hope she is more reasonable after that. She will still take steroids for 5 days a month in the next phase, but not every day like this. These steroids seem to magnify the kids’ worst traits until they act that way all the time. It’s great fun!

One good effect of the steroids is the increase in appetite, but we haven’t come to that yet. She still doesn’t seem to want to eat but one meal a day. I just can’t bear the thought of her losing any more weight. Today, we finally managed to entice her with the idea of a bagel with strawberry cream cheese from Panera. So, off John, his mom and Jake go to Panera to bring it back before she loses her appetite again. Once those steroids start making her ravenous, I’m going to let her eat like a banshee — fatten her up for the next phase.

But, still, it’s nice to be home. No one woke us in the middle of the night to take her vitals, flush her IV or stop the infusion machine from beeping. What a blessing. She was still up quite a bit with pain and nausea, but rested better for sure.

One note: we are flush with gifts for Tanner. People have been so generous. Some she just hasn’t even felt good enough to open. So, again, if you want to do something send a donation in Tanner’s honor to www.lilysgarden.com. Knowing that we might be able to help save some other family from this horror is the best gift we can get.

Love,
Beth

Done

Okay, the shots are done. Deep breath. I cried as hard as she did. I felt like I completely fed her to lions and I carried her little frail body down the hall to the room for a “special treatment.” She had no idea what was coming. She screamed at me, “Why did you do that?”

I have to, it’s the only way to kill the *&^%$! luekemia.

Her best friend is coming right now, bringing chik-fil-a and they’re going to paint their toenails and make bracelets. Maybe she’ll forget.

She’s lost five pounds. If ever anyone didn’t have five pounds to lose…

Beth

Tanner has cancer

Today, for the first time, Tanner looks like a cancer patient. She is pale with dark shadows under her eyes and can’t wake up this morning, even though it is 8:45 am (for those of you who know what early birds my kids are, this will mean something). I know in my brain that means the chemo is working, killing all those abnormal cells along with what few good ones she had left, but in my heart it is killing me. I just want to fix it for her. Today is the day she gets the two horrible shots in her legs and I hope that she and I are strong. Tanner is terrified of shots and if there is any part of this that I could take from her, this would be it. Please pray for us today.

Beth