Category Archives: emotions

Nine Screaming Girls + Jake = One Good Time

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July 10, 2010

I’m sitting on the sofa completely spent from hosting Tanner’s Rock Star birthday party for nine little 7-year-old girls. Two super teens from the neighborhood did the girls’ makeup and hair, Aunt Beth applied tattoos, they all decorated cardboard guitars and then we did some dancing and singing and got our rock star on! It was one of the most fun parties we have ever had for the kids. Pressure is on for Jake’s next party; we’re going to have to make it a doozy!

We’ve spent the last few days mostly preparing for the party and swimming at the pool. Thursday night (for Tanner’s actual birthday), we had pizza with E. and LaLa, cupcakes with some neighbor kids and caught fireflies outside. Tanner finally got to catch some fireflies. They had a great time!

Even Domino wants to check out Tanner's fireflies

Thanks to everyone who sent birthday messages… Tanner and I sat at the computer for two days and read them all. They made her smile and feel special.

Poor Jake had a little bit of a hard time with Tanner’s birthday. He’s apparently just gotten old enough to realize that he isn’t getting the same special treatment she is. He would ask in his little voice, “Why I not get a cake? Can I get a car cake?” We made him a special non-girly gift bag for the party, which he loved, but he hid in the media room for most of the party, playing Star Wars wii by himself. Poor little man. When the excessive girliness and screaming was over, he came back out, busted a move or two on the dance floor, got a tattoo and ate his ring pop. It all turned out okay in the end.

Domino attended the beginning and end of the party, but stayed in his crate during the rest, hiding from the chaos. He managed to snag a piece of pizza from the trash after it was over, though. Score one for the dog. He loves him some pizza.

It was a really awesome party and I think Tanner and the girls had a great time, thanks to everyone who helped!

Love,
Beth

You Get What You Need

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June 27, 2010

We thought we wanted a golden retriever… a goofy, playful, ball chasing, loveable family dog. But, as Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, once said on his show, “You don’t get the dog you want, you get the dog you need.” (I wish I could do the accent; it sounds better with the accent.)

Domino has turned out to be exactly what we needed. He isn’t actually all that playful; I think being kept outside by himself for the first couple of years of his life didn’t teach him much about playing. He doesn’t even seem to notice when a ball bounces by his head. But, he is silly, which is actually more amusing. He is unbelievably adorable and super soft. He doesn’t really play with the kids, but his is unflappable when they play. He is the first dog I have ever seen sniff a tambourine when a child was shaking it… seriously. He is unfailingly gentle, completely bombproof and always ready for loving in any form. The kids can lay on him, poke his feet, pull his ears… it’s all good with him… he takes it as love, which is how it’s actually meant.

John ruining the dog

So, he may not be what we thought we wanted, but he is exactly what we needed. And, we have had a ball with him this weekend. The kids are taking turns having him on their beds at night while reading books… he loves it. Jake put his blanket over himself and Domino today and they lay on the floor and watched TV together.

If you or anyone you know is looking for a dog, I can’t recommend the Death Row Dogs program enough. You can find it at McMuttigans.com. The whole experience was wonderful, from meeting the inmates to getting our super dog. He is very well trained; he knows all his obedience commands and basic good manners, is house-trained and crate trained. He doesn’t jump on you, or rush at the door or chew stuff up; it’s been a wonderful way to get a dog. They get 25 dogs every three months and Domino was the 484th dog they have rescued from euthanization. People come from all over the country to get their dogs and we feel lucky to have found them. They had four dogs from Domino’s class that had not yet found a home, including a beautiful chocolate lab. Surely, someone we know needs a trained dog….

Too hot to do anything this week, but swim and maybe, go to the movies. We go back to the clinic on Thursday for a counts check and, hopefully, they’ll be up so we can get a little more freedom after that.

On a sad note, Ellie, the little girl I asked you to pray for last week, passed away the very next day after my post. I don’t know what else to say about that, except to say cancer sucks.

Love,
Beth

Yay for Domino Day

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June 23, 2010

Domino in the car on the way home

Finally, he’s here. Domino. Staring at me as I write on the computer. Trying to get me to scratch his ears. He is, believe it or not, cuter in person. And, so gentle and laid back. The Dog Whisperer would not have approved of his introduction to our household. Four kids screaming and playing with loud toys, six adults, everyone swarming him at once, Jake hugging him and laying on his back. But, he took it all in stride. He’s just great.

I’ll write more tomorrow about our experience at the prison. It was really inspiring. But, right now, it has been a very long day and there is a spotty dog who will expect a long walk at 6 am, so I’m going to have to stop being such a night owl from now on.

Sorry we didn’t take better pictures. We didn’t get home until 4:30 with Domino and the kids were so excited. We had a small dog fight with the lab next door and then we, ever so briefly, lost our new dog. Jake left the door open and he slipped out. John and I cornered him one street over, but it was a close call. Whew! So, it was a little crazy and we hustled the kids off to bed while we gave Domino a little break in his crate and then realized we forgot to take pictures. Tanner had trouble sleeping and came down later and we snapped a shot of the two of them, so that’s really all we have. We’ll take better pics tomorrow and I’ll write about meeting the inmates that trained him. They did a good job.

Love,
The Happy Pages + a Spotty Dog

1 Day to Domino

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June 22, 2010

Tomorrow is Domino Day… long awaited and much anticipated. Tanner was so excited, she couldn’t go to sleep tonight (the steroids didn’t help, either!) and I find myself in the same position. We’ve been on a 10-day countdown on the chalkboard in the kitchen, and today the kids and I washed down our dog crate to get ready for the big day. John and I will go to the prison tomorrow to meet the inmates that trained Domino and bring him home. The kids made thank you notes for them today. Jake put Star Wars stickers all over them and Tanner made cut out stars. We hope they will let the inmates have them so they can remember what a good thing they have done for a little girl with leukemia and her family.

The kids have been at Vacation Bible School for the past few days. They are having such a good time. I’ve helped with crafts those two days as well and really had fun. Tomorrow is water fun day at VBS, so they are going to have a double-great day, between that and the dog.

We had a great weekend, too. Tanner has been on steroids and feeling some of the effects of the Vincristine, but she accepts it so well now and we know to just move on and it will get better. She can’t really take the heat (and it’s HOT here!) so water activities or indoor activities are the best bet. Saturday, when I came back from running errands, John, Tanner, Jake and four neighborhood kids were in the backyard on our new playground sliding down the slide into the baby pool at the bottom. They were having too much fun! It’s the simple things, right?

Sunday, we gave John a day off for Father’s Day… no simple task, I promise you. I had to practically run my poor workaholic husband out of the house for some much needed R&R. While he was gone, the kids and I went to the grocery store to buy ingredients for seafood gumbo, his favorite food. He came back at dinner time to posters on the door, made by the kids, a balloon, cards and gumbo. Happy man.

I have to tell you about something that happened on Friday that strengthened my belief in Tanner’s vast resolve and determination. She had chemo, if you remember, on Thursday at clinic – Vincristine through her port. Then, Thursday night’s medication concoction – 6mp (chemo), methotrexate (chemo), neurontin (for neuropathy), mepron (antibiotic to prevent pneumonia), amoxicillin (antibiotic for strep throat), Claritin (for allergies), dexamethasone (steroids), pepsid and zofran (for nausea). Good grief! I expected her to be down for the count on Friday. She woke up a little groggy, but after running some errands in the morning, we headed to the YMCA pool for a swim. We got there and Tanner decided she wanted to take the swim test that would allow her to go down the slides and climb the rock wall.

“Today?” I said. “Why don’t we do it another day?”

“No, I want to do it now,” she said.

The lifeguard showed her what she had to do and my chemo-ridden child jumped in the pool and swam the length without stopping or touching the bottom and pulled herself out on the side. The lifeguard and Jake and I cheered her on from the side, following her as she swam down the pool. She looked, at the end, as if she might give up, but stuck it out. I couldn’t have been prouder. I looked at the lifeguard with disbelief and said, “She has cancer and had a boatload of chemo yesterday.” He bent down and told her “Way to go!”

We were putting on sunscreen later and I told her how proud of her I was. Of course, I teared up. Tanner’s response… “Thank goodness you didn’t do that in front of the lifeguard.” Cue eye rolling.

So, we’ve had fun despite the low counts and the steroids and chemo. It beats the alternative, right?

On a more sobering note, please pray for the family (including the twin) of a little girl named Ellie, whose poor cancer-ravaged lungs will not last much longer. Her mother, just days ago, was blogging how she was not ready to give up on a miracle and was still encouraging Ellie to fight. Today, I read where this same mother has not only had to accept the inevitable for her daughter, but has courageously swallowed her own grief to try to help her daughter accept her fate as well. Imagine trying to assure an 8-year-old that it is all right to die now. Cancer is heartless.

Love,
Beth

Love Letter to Tanner

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June 15, 2010

Mothers and Daughters have it tough. Our relationships are not always the easiest. Maybe it’s because our daughters fall too close to home that we find it somewhat easier to parent a boy, or at least I do. But, what I hope Tanner realizes, in the middle of all the mom-daughter tussles, is that I love her completely and really do want the best for her.

The beauty of this blog is that maybe someday she’ll see that. That even though it didn’t always come out right, I was always doing my best and that anything I did came from a place of love.

So, this post is a love letter to Tanner. A letter that she can read when she’s old enough to understand some of the grown-up things I write about here, and old enough to forgive her Mom for the blunders and maybe even understand where I was coming from. But, mostly, for her to see how much — how very much — I love her.

Dear Tanner:

I hope by the time you read this, that this leukemia business is far in our past and we have moved on to arguing about what you will wear to school or whether it’s okay to wear makeup or not. I’m thinking you won’t remember much about being treated for leukemia, but I know it will have shaped who you are. Maybe reading this blog will help you understand some of things you do, and some of the things Daddy and I have done.

I don’t know who you will become, but I do know one thing… you will be strong. You would have been strong before this damn cancer, but after you will be a force to be reckoned with. There will be nothing you can’t do.

Being your Mom is a privilege I wouldn’t trade for all the power jobs or peaceful Saturday afternoons in the world. If it hasn’t always felt that way to you, I apologize. Being a Mom, and maybe particularly a stay-at-home Mom, is decidedly unglamorous. And, I’m a pretty lousy homemaker, so I probably gripe about that part. But, never doubt that I stayed home with you and Jake because I wanted to… desperately. I didn’t want to miss one minute of the wonder that has been you. I didn’t want to look back and have not been a part of all the things that made you grow into the wonderful young woman I know you are becoming.

I’m sure it won’t always be easy for us… we are too alike. You have inherited my stubbornness, which makes us a little like gasoline and matches at times. As long as you can remember that being right doesn’t equal happy (I’m still trying to get that one down), your stubbornness can serve you well. It will help you not give up, but instead work harder than everyone else. And, it will free you to be yourself all the time and not care too much what other people think.

I’m going to try to practice what I’m preaching here and admit that I haven’t always been right when it comes to being your Mom. You are a hard cookie to parent with a strong will, but a bright spot of joy also, and I have often struggled with how to teach you right from wrong without breaking your beautiful spirit. If I haven’t done it right, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to or because I wasn’t trying or because I didn’t care. It was because I am human, and what you will learn someday is that there is no instruction manual for raising a child and we all just do the best we can. In particular, there’s no instruction manual for raising a child with leukemia and few qualified people to ask for advice.

Daddy and I were nearly broken in two when we found out you had leukemia. It was, without a doubt, the worst day of my life. Either one of us would have gladly taken your place rather than watching you suffer so. The physical treatment was hard on you, but it was the isolation that was the really tough thing for you to swallow. You are a social butterfly and love people, so being kept out of school and away from friends and activities was so difficult for you. I know you blamed me for a lot of that, because I was usually the one breaking the news that you couldn’t go to a birthday party, or spend Thanksgiving with family, or go to the beach with your cousins. And, that’s okay. I just hope that one day, maybe when you’re a Mom yourself, you’ll get that being a parent means loving someone enough to let them hate you when you have to. We did everything we could to keep you safe and assure that you had a life to live at the end of this seemingly endless chemo.

When I was a little girl, I thought my Daddy was stronger than anyone. I knew he and my Mom would never let anyone or anything hurt me. I am sorry that you had to learn at age 5 that the bogeyman is bigger than Mommy and Daddy put together. It’s not a fair age to learn that and we did everything we could to retain your childhood, but cancer is ugly and you are too bright to not notice that no one could ever really promise you would be okay. You must have been so scared and I wish I could have made it better.

I want to make sure, more than anything else, that you walk away from reading this letter knowing three things: 1) I haven’t been the perfect Mom, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. It’s not the easiest job, this Mom business, but I love it and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 2) I am prouder of you than you will ever realize. You have been braver, stronger and more poised than I could have ever been in the same situation. 3) I love you… fiercely and completely… just the way you are. And, I always will.

I hope this helps… for you to understand what happened to you, and to our family, many years ago, and for you to realize that you have been all I could ask for from a daughter.

I love you, T.
Mom

She Didn’t Make It

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June 11, 2010

Tanner told me in the car on the way home from the pediatrician’s office this morning that it was the worst day of her life. I believed her. She woke up this morning with a red, swollen throat and a quick trip to the pediatrician’s office confirmed that she has strep throat. Say goodbye to her theatre camp show today.

In a cruel twist of fate, it was not the risk of her catching something, but the risk of her giving something to someone else that kept her from doing something she really wanted to do this time. It was another disappointment in a year of crappy disappointments. I heard her in the back seat of the car talking to herself while I was on the phone with the clinic, sobbing, “Another year… I have a whole year more of this… I can’t do it, I just can’t.” Talk about heartbreaking. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horrible about making the right decision before.

She was pretty mad at me for a while. She kept telling me that the doctors were not the boss of me and that I could just do what I wanted because I was a grown up. I told her that she was right and I cried with her, but said I still had to do what was right and it wasn’t right to knowingly expose other kids to strep.

Then, I had a brainstorm! There were other dates for dance camp and she could go again! We drove to the theater where the performance was being held to tell the director she couldn’t come. Sure enough, they said she could come to another camp and do the show then. Tanner cheered up considerably and felt a lot better. We decided that maybe it was cool to be able to go to camp twice and that she might make a whole new group of friends.

So, it was still a bummer, but a little less so. She’s feeling pretty good for someone with strep throat. It’s a little worrisome with her counts so low, but so far, no fever. We’re trying to keep her and Jake separated so he doesn’t get it, too, but it may be too late.

Thanks to Jan Williams School of Music for being so understanding of Tanner’s unique situation, and for giving a little girl a second chance at her dream.

Love,
Beth

The Drama Queen

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June 9, 2010

Jake and I picked Tanner up Monday afternoon from her first day of theater camp to find the most fired up 6-year-old you have ever seen. She was singing her newly learned songs to me before we even got into the car, glancing at her lyrics notebook to remind herself of the words. She was, in a word, aglow.

I told John that I night that I believe I had witnessed Tanner find her place in the world that day. All of her unbridled and emotional enthusiasm fit right into the world of song and dance, and I believe I will be driving her to play rehearsals for the next decade or so.

She is really proud of herself for getting a solo that she had to audition for and win from some other kids her age. She is singing “I hope I get it” from A Chorus Line. It is pretty hilarious to watch a very earnest, almost-seven-year-old sing, “I really need this job; I hope I get this job.”

She’s in camp all this week with a performance on Friday. She cannot wait for that performance. She keeps asking me how many days until Friday. It will be interesting to see if she gets stage fright.

Tomorrow, Jake, E. (John’s Mom) and I will pick her up from camp and head to the hospital for a counts check. They want to be sure the newly upped methotrexate dose isn’t making her counts drop more than they want it to. I’m terrified that her counts will have tanked and she won’t be able to do the show on Friday. It would be, to say the least, devastating. So, please pray, light candles, send up positive karma into the universe. She wants this so badly.

We’re also counting down the days to Domino, who is coming to his new forever home on June 23. We have his new bed all ready in the living room, filled with toys, chews, and a collar and leash. We’ve had so much fun getting ready for him to join the family. Cancer took our sweet border collie from us last year, and cancer kept us from getting a new dog for the nine months since then. But, now, we’re almost finished waiting to get back what cancer took, and we are giddy with excitement.

Good counts, good counts, good counts… there isn’t enough money in the world for the therapy she will need if she doesn’t get to sing and dance her little heart out on Friday.

Love,
Beth

The Best Thing About Cancer

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June 1, 2010

Tanner and Jake donating change to the Children's Hospital

We’ve been accompanied on our last two clinic visits by a small camera crew that is following Tanner for a fundraising video for the Children’s Hospital. This time, just Ms. Donna came with us, with her video camera, to chronicle Tanner getting her port accessed, receiving her chemo in the infusion room, and waiting in the pre-op area for her lumbar puncture. Last time, Tanner sat with Ms. Donna and her crew for about 10 or 15 minutes and answered questions about what it’s like to have leukemia. During these questions, Ms. Donna asked Tanner what was the worst thing about having cancer. Tanner answered, “Missing school and doing things with my friends.” Then, she asked a question I wasn’t sure a six-year-old could answer. She asked what was the best thing about having cancer. Tanner thought for a minute, puzzled by such a strange question, and replied, “There’s really nothing good about it.” I was really proud of her for not feeling pressured to come up with an “acceptable” answer and for just answering honestly.

But, the question stuck with me and I found myself wondering how I would answer it, if she had asked me. For a moment I felt just like Tanner… there’s nothing good about it. But, I thought a little more and suddenly it hit me… the best thing about having cancer is the unbelievable kindness of people. I literally never knew people could be so kind… really.

Take today for example. Tanner got an email from her “animal friends,” and squealed with delight. We even wrote an email back to the cat to tell him how to make his hurt ear feel better. Charlene has been sending photos and letters from cats, dogs, horses, goats, turkeys and even a bee for a solid year. She even made a book of the letters for Tanner to keep. Tanner still doesn’t know who they come from (shhhhh!) and it’s like magic to her.

Then, I got a call from a friend whose daughter is going to forgo birthday presents for donations to the Children’s Hospital. We’re trying to work out something cool where maybe the party attendees bring toys for the Childlife Center in the infusion room. Too cool.

Then, I got an email from one of Tanner’s Make-A-Wish volunteer coordinators. She is running a half-marathon for Team in Training to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and wanted to know if she could run in Tanner’s honor. She is the second of Tanner’s two Wish Coordinators to do this. As if they don’t do enough

Then, John came home from work and brought me a gift from my secret pal. This sweet woman has been sending me gifts for almost a year now, just every so often, to let me know that someone’s thinking about me. They are always such thoughtful things designed to make me feel pampered. Today, a bracelet with a little charm on it that says, “Mom” and a little heart for each of the kids. I love it, just like I’ve loved the flip flops, the key chain, the monogrammed bags, etc. The card said she has truly enjoyed being my secret pal… that’s the kind of person I’m talking about here. Wow.

This is just one day’s kindness. Other days, there are little gifts, cards of encouragement, supportive comments to the blog, babysitting, and countless other acts of generosity. There are also the quiet behind the scenes things like the great friends who make this blog possible by hosting it on their site and doing all the technical stuff I don’t understand. Then, there are indescribable things like the friend who has loaned Tanner his St. Christopher medal he wore in Vietnam so she will be protected like he was. How do you thank someone for that?

These things mean more to us than their face value. It’s not the gift or the gesture itself that is so important… it’s the support, the friendship, the hope, the love that they bring that make them so instrumental to surviving this ordeal.

So, if Ms. Donna were to ask me what is the best thing about my daughter having cancer, I would say it’s all of YOU.

Thank you for everything you have done, and continue to do, to make this journey bearable.

Love,
Beth

P.S. Happy Birthday to Tanner’s port, which was put in one year ago today. We sang to it tonight.

Summer Break

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May 24, 2010

Seems like Tanner just got back to school and now it’s already over for the year. I think she had just settled in; she was really sad for it to end. She did really well, though. She managed to keep up even though she missed so much, thanks to Mrs. O’Hara and Mrs. Franklin. We are so thankful she is able to continue going to Moore; they take really good care of her there.

So, summer’s here! We’ve started with a bang! We had a birthday party on Saturday and some friends over last night and played outside almost all weekend long. Tanner feels great, mostly because she has “skipped” a dose of Vincristine and a pulse of steroids she should have had last week. Her monthly clinic visit fell on the second to last day of school… the day of their class party. Dr. Mixon was nice enough to let us move it back a week, so this Thursday, she’ll get Vincristine in her port, start her five-day steroid pulse and have a lumbar puncture with a methotrexate injection. That ought to stop her from feeling so good… sigh.

This morning, she and Jake and I started the day by going to see the new Shrek movie at 9:45… we were the only ones in the theater! Tanner danced down front after the movie was over and we had a great time. Tomorrow – swimming in the neighborhood pool… brrrrrrrr. And, Wednesday… a slip n’ slide party in the yard.

We’re going to make a list of all the things we want to do this summer… camping in the back yard, a firefly party, trip to the zoo, etc., and make sure we do them. Grab life while you can, you never know what might happen to change it.

Today, Tanner I wrote this story on the computer. I wrote the first four sentences and she wrote the last two:

Once there was a little girl named Tanner. She was blonde with beautiful, big blue eyes that looked as if they were reflecting the ocean. She was strong and brave and faced the most difficult things with grace beyond her years. She was a hero, but she didn’t know it. And she fought leukemia she had to take cemo and starods. And before you new it she was fighting it like a champ.

Happy Monday.

Love,
Beth

Our Last Night

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May 14, 2010

We went our separate ways today. We were all planning on returning to the Magic Kingdom to hit all the attractions we couldn’t get to on Tuesday, but I had a feeling that Jake needed a break. So, I asked him this morning, “Jake, would you rather go to Magic Kingdom and ride the Buzz Lightyear ride or go to the pool?” As I suspected, the pool won out. There’s only so much overstimulation a three-year-old can take, particularly one who likes to toodle around as much as he likes a big event.

Tanner, on the other hand, never gets enough overstimulation… bring it on! So, she and John went to Magic Kingdom and Jake and I played around the pool, took a walk on the nature trail, chased some lizards, scared a turtle and, generally, just took it easy. He took a big nap and will be ready for our last day tomorrow at Animal Kingdom!

Tanner and John blew it out at Magic Kingdom. Without Jake and I to weigh them down and with the trusty Wish Button at hand, they tore up the park at lightening speed and returned home in the late afternoon, happy and sated.

As always in the Village, there was a party this evening… a Pirates and Princess party. So, we ate dinner, got faces painted and tattoos sprayed on at the spa and headed over to the pool for a great time. All the kids got to go on stage and be presented as Pirates or Princesses to the crowd and there were some hilarious pirates leading the dancing and fun, not to mention characters from Sea World. Amazing!

So, we’re sad it’s our last night… really sad. This has been such a respite to the drill that is cancer treatment and when we get back, chemo will come back, too. Back to the hospital, to the poking and steroids and… yuck! But, we will have these memories to hold us up for a while. And we can look at the pictures and talk about all the fun we had and thank Tanner for taking us all to Disney for a week… on her.

Tomorrow, we’ll check out and head to Animal Kingdom for our last day of fun. When we leave the park, we’ll head home and get as far down the road as we can before we have to stop for the night. We are welcome back here in the Village anytime we wish – but as day visitors, not overnight guests. And, I think we will come back again, to remember and to continue to thank those who make this gift possible.

Love,
Beth