Category Archives: John Page

Happy Halloween!

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Tanner as Wednesday Addams

Tanner as Wednesday Addams

October 31, 2009 Did you hear about the parents who let their child go trick-or-treating on a cold night after just getting out of the hospital for a nine-day stay for pneumonia?!!! Oh, and she has leukemia, too!

It sounds so bad on paper, but it was really fun. If there is one thing I have learned from this whole experience it’s that you have to grab your moments when they present themselves for you never know when they will be taken from you. Apparently children know this piece of wisdom without being taught. Tanner seized the moment, for sure, tonight.

Tanner and John got home from the hospital today around 1:30 with chick-fil-a for everyone. We ate, Tanner’s stomach started to hurt from one of the antibiotics she is on, John and I spent 20 minutes trying to be sure we were administering her IV antibiotic correctly and she promptly fell asleep for several hours. That’s when the adults decided that caution would be prudent. That she might just be too tired to go out for Halloween tonight. That maybe we should do it the next night with a good night’s rest under our belt and one more day for her to recover. So, John runs all around the neighborhood asking the neighbors to save some candy for trick-or-treat on Sunday night. People were so sweet and willing to help.

Then, Tanner wakes up. No way was she trick-or-treating the night after Halloween! We warned her that the doctor said she had to wear a mask… that did not dissuade her at all. So we hustled up, ate some dinner, hurried into our costumes and met Tanner’s friend Olivia and her Mom, Jennifer, for some power trick-or-treating.

Jake, Olivia and Tanner

Jake, Olivia and Tanner

We brought the wagon because we didn’t think she would last long. She’s been in bed for 2 weeks, after all. But, as always, she surprised us with her determination. She probably made it to 15 or 20 houses before climbing the steps became too much for her and she started just stopping on the sidewalk and letting me go to the door to collect her candy. She eventually got into the wagon with a blanket around her and rode the rest of the way in great spirits.

I can just hear myself trying to explain our parenting skills to the doctors when she shows up with pneumonia again from being out in the cold (just kidding, they told us she could go). But, it was one of those moments where I realize that the stubbornness in her that has long driven me crazy as a parent is starting to serve her well. What had been just strong-willed obstinence as a toddler and preschooler is morphing into tenacity and perseverance as a kid. I was so proud of her.

IMG_1245She and Jake and Olivia had a ball. They looked so cute and got a LOT of candy. When we got home, Tanner said it had been one of her favorite Halloweens. She said, “This was a great night.”

I guess having so many things taken from you makes you really appreciate the things you get… or, in Tanner’s case, the things you reach out and grab with sheer determination and grit.

Happy Halloween!
Love,
Beth

P.S. If you see Jake, do NOT tell him he was a cute fireman. He was Billy Blaze from the Rescue Heroes, thank you very much!

Settled In

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October 22, 2009 We’re settled into the LAST room available at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. Lights are out, Tanner is sleeping and no one is supposed to bother us for the next two hours. Admitting went so smoothly… usually on the night we admit, she never gets to bed before 10 pm, but they got all the admitting done quickly and she fell asleep at 7:30, right on time.

She felt so lousy earlier today, but perked up quite a bit after a dose of morphine. Now, it’s worn off again and she is feeling tired and bad. However, she did resolve the constipation issue before bedtime… nuff said about that.

We’ll be here for at least two days. We have to wait for all the test results to come back, which will take 48 hours, and they will want to see her counts come up some before they will let her go home. We can’t have any visitors; too risky. And, no fresh flowers when her counts are this low.

So much of her hair has fallen out today that she now has large bald patches. I doubt there will be anything left even after tomorrow. I can’t tell you what it feels like to keep having to comb out the dead hair that mats into the remaining hair. I filled a small trashcan up today once we got in the room. It’s rips me apart every time I have to do it. It’s like with each stroke of the hair filled comb, I hear a voice saying, “She has cancer. My baby has cancer.” I keep telling myself that it’s just hair and it will grow back, but it isn’t just hair. It’s the one thing that has kept me from being constantly, visually reminded that my child has cancer. Once she is bald, I won’t just know it, I’ll look at it every moment of every day.

After I combed so much hair off of her today, she put her hand to the back of her head and said, in a little panicked voice, “Mom, feel my head. You can feel it.” I told her that I didn’t think it would last more than a few days and I thought it was all going to come out. She asked if I would bring her wigs to the hospital tomorrow and I said I would. She said she was scared that kids would make fun of her and I told her I didn’t think they would; that her friends knew it would fall out and that their Moms will tell them before they see her so they won’t be surprised.

It’s oddly peaceful here in the hospital at night. Sure, you get interrupted by nurses taking vitals and noises in the hall, but that’s all become so familiar to us, that’s it’s comforting in a strange way. Here, I know she is the safest she can be. It’s certainly not 100% safe; most kids that die from leukemia die in the hospital. But, this is where doctors have the best chance of catching something early and this is where everyone she encounters wears a mask and gloves. It makes me feel better for her to be here when her immune system is so low.

The Children’s Hospital is wonderful; the most comfortable hospital I’ve ever been in. I sleep on a sofa that pulls out to a comfortable twin-sized bed; even John’s long body fits on this thing. The nurses are kind and very quiet, for the most part. The food is good with a huge menu you can order from. Tanner can get videos, games, crafts and all manner of fun things delivered to her room. We can’t leave the room to play in the playroom or go outside because of her counts, but they will bring us almost anything we want. They are kind and compassionate people, despite the fact that they see sick kids every day, and they recognize that a sick kid means a “sick” family and take care of parents’ needs as well.

Tonight, I will hear the lifeflight helicopter land on the roof more times than I care to think about. I can’t hear it without being reminded of Tanner’s time in the helicopter and I pray fervently for the child in it and the family who cannot fly with him or her and the pain I know they are going through not knowing what is happening to their child while in the air. I know it was the longest 25 minutes of my life when Tanner was on that helicopter. We knew she was in the hands of some of the most highly trained trauma physicians in the world, but it is still horrible not to be there. Thankfully, Tanner doesn’t remember it and I pray that no child does.

We’re lucky to have such resources so close by.

John has delivered us our necessities and my Mom has arrived to take care of Jake tomorrow so John can go to work. We’re tucked in and comfortable and I’m getting ready to watch last night’s espisode of Glee on my computer (Aren’t computers amazing?). I’m less terrified than I was earlier today when we first got here, so I think I’ll sleep tonight and I think Tanner will too.

Love,
Beth

An Ode to Steroids

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October 14, 2009

Oh steroids, how I hate thee
The way you make my daughter acteth like a monster
The dozen of meals I make a day because of you
Make me hate thee all the more.
The kicking, the screaming, the tantrums you cause
You are like an eclipse on the darkest of days
How I hate thee,
Let me count the ways.

Apparently 7 days off of steroids just isn’t enough for them to fully leave Tanner’s system, so now day 2 of this pulse of steroids is really just a continuation of the last pulse… day 9, if you will… which is when all the fun really begins.

Poor Jake said to me today, “Mom, she cares me,” which in Jake-speak means, “She scares me.” He just didn’t know what to do… she would call him into her room to play and then 10 seconds later, scream at him to get out and leave her alone.

On the plus side, she did make efforts to calm herself. She went to her room several times and got under the kitchen table once to try to get hold of herself. By bedtime, she was just a cranky, pitiful whiny mess. John carried her to bed and she lay with her back to him while he sat on the floor and read her a story.

Five more days… we can make it.

She is ravenous, as usual when on steroids, and I am frankly hopeful that she will gain some weight over this week. Her legs have gotten painfully thin and a little buffer to get us through the next 5 weeks of DI would be great.

Yesterday, she ate a corn dog, French fries and a slush at 9:30 am on the way to clinic after having 2 big bowls of cheerios for breakfast. Then, at 12:30 on the way home from clinic she ate another corn dog, tater tots and milk. The nausea then set in and she stopped eating until dinner. Today at lunch, she ate 2 bagels with cream cheese, two gogurts and two helpings of pineapple, got up and cried that her stomach hurt from eating too much. Then, five minutes later, said she felt better and wanted chex mix. I made her wait 15 minutes (really only 10 because I couldn’t take any more whining). Twenty minutes after the chex mix, I came down from putting Jake down for his nap and heard her in the fridge. She was pouring herself a glass of milk and had a cup of goldfish, which she refilled twice over the next hour. I think she is probably about a day away from all-night eating. Insane.

It is a little painful to see her “argue” with herself over the food. She knows that if she eats too much her stomach will hurt, but she is so compelled by the steroids to eat that she literally talks to herself about it. “I’m just going to wait a little bit before I eat this… yes… I’m afraid my tummy will hurt… but maybe just a few minutes, cause I’m really hungry… I really want it… maybe just a few more minutes, etc., etc.”

She takes Dexamethasone, which is 4 times as powerful as prednisone, if you have ever taken that for anything. I have taken the prednisone,and by night 2, do not sleep at all. So far, she is sleeping, but I suspect that will change in the next night or so.

Meanwhile, we’re trying to be patient without letting her get away with murder. She knows that they are making her act bad and she seems very sorry about it and is trying to control it as best as a six-year-old can.

Did I mention it’s just five more days?

Love,
Beth

We Almost Made It Through Sunday

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October 11, 2009dec 08 015 Just when we thought we had gotten through this rotten, unending week, our beloved border collie, Millie, died today. She was 12 and over the past few months, had seemed to be getting old quickly. Today, she suddenly was unable to move and John quietly took her to the emergency vet so as not to upset the kids. The vet said she had several cancerous tumors and one had ruptured causing internal bleeding. John called to say she would only live an hour at best and I piled the kids in car and left a check taped to the door for the pizza guy who was on his way. In the car, I explained to Tanner that Millie was an old dog and had a cyst that was bleeding in her tummy and that the kind thing to do was to keep her from suffering any more.

Together, the four of us said goodbye to our sweet, gentle, Frisbee-loving dog and watching her pass peacefully. Tanner sobbed while Jake patted her and said, “Bye, bye Millie.” This sweet dog slept at the end of Tanner’s bed every night to keep away the monsters and keep a child with an active imagination “safe” at night. She was intelligent, loyal and the model of good doggy behavior. She is already missed.

Sadly, Millie’s passing is just one more loss for Tanner. Millie was her security blanket at night and she has been up 4 times already in the first 2 hours after bedtime. John will go sleep in her room tonight; if I go, I will wake her with my coughing. It was the worst possible time for this to happen (not that there’s a good time for your dog to die) when she most needs comfort and security in what is often a very scary world for her. I’m not sure what we will do.

John is devastated and keeps questioning whether he did the right thing by not opting for a surgery option which the vet said would only give Millie a few months. It would definitely have been nice to have some time to prepare Tanner for her passing. It was just so sudden (it all happened in a matter of an hour) and I think it’s hard not to second guess a decision you feel you made in haste, even if it was the right one.

We’re all tired from the week behind us, with nothing to really look forward to this week.

As John said when I came down from putting Jake to bed, “I want a do-over.” I think he was talking about the dog, but I was thinking about 2009.

Love,
Beth

Clinic Day #17

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October 7, 2009

This evening as I stroked Tanner’s head and tried to comfort her until the Zofran and Oxycodone kicked in, I looked down to see two bruises on her thighs where the Peg shots were administered and was reminded of all she has been through in this seemingly endless week.

Those long-dreaded Peg shots turned out to be just one of the many trials this week that have shed some light on why this stage of treatment is called Delayed Intensification. First, there was the pneumonia-ish illness, three days in the hospital, the Peg shots, a breathing treatment that burned her mouth and upset her terribly, the steroids and, finally, back to the clinic today for Vincristine and the nauseating Doxirubicin.

She seemed very tired this morning before going to the Clinic and had a little crying jag about having to take a bath and having to go to Clinic. She wanted me to go with her, which of course I couldn’t, but John’s Mom went with them, so she got to have her E. with her. Clinic went well and she seemed to be feeling pretty well when she got home with her steroid-inspired McDonald’s Happy Meal. But, shortly after eating, she began feeling bad and fell asleep for several hours. When she woke she felt terrible, but we were able to get her nausea under control with medication, so we did better than last time overall. She has figured out that it’s the red chemo that makes her so sick and asked why she had to take something that made her feel so bad. When I explained that we only had to take red chemo one more time, she said looked at me with her pale little face pinched in pain and said she could stand one more time… amazing.

Surprisingly, the steroids have been fairly anticlimactic. She has really handled them well, with minimal mood swings or erratic behavior. The food obsession has kicked in and she wants cheese, grease, fat and more cheese. She literally begged me for McDonald’s hash browns this morning and I found myself at Kroger at 6:30 buying Velveeta for nachos! We finished the last steroid pill this morning and are off them for the next week…. Hurray!

So, now is the really hard part… knowing that we will do it all again next week… and the week after, and the week after. This is a marathon for sure, and there is little time to regroup before the next big hill is upon you.

My poor husband wins the MVP award this week. He has been Mom, Dad, Employee and Nurse this week and has kept his sense of humor to boot. There was a point today where he looked a little like if someone asked him for one more thing little pieces of him might start falling off of him… an ear, an arm, a finger. He just looked too stretched and I felt terrible that when everything was so awful, instead of pulling my weight, I had been just another burden this week. Bronchitis is hard for me to kick and even though I feel better, I still had to lie down for the majority of the afternoon in order to stop coughing.

And, Most Valuable New Recruit goes to John’s mom who rescued us this week, for sure. She has a job and a very busy life and dropped everything in a moment’s notice to help us. I, literally, could not have done it without her. I was down for the count on Tuesday and could not have taken care of Jake that day. Thanks to her, I was able to get the rest I needed.

And, last but not least, to my friends who showed up at my door with food (you know who you are)… what can I say? We are being carried through this journey on the shoulders of those we love and who, thankfully, love us back.

Week one of DI down, seven more to go. Don’t leave us now… we’ll be needing you…

Love,
Beth

Coming Home!

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October 7, 2009

Yay! Tanner is coming home this afternoon. Can’t wait to get my hands on that girl! Jake and I have missed her and Daddy terribly.

She does have to go back tomorrow for clinic and chemo, which sucks, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Had the Peg shots last night and John said they went as well as he could have hoped, considering they are so painful. The Atavan was a gift and we will be using it for these types of procedures from now on.

She is still hoarse and coughing quite a bit, but the docs feel like her lungs sound good and she is full of very powerful antibiotics.

Nuff said.

Beth

Hospital Update

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Tanner showing off her dinosaur oxygen mask!! She's smiling under there.

Tanner showing off her dinosaur oxygen mask!! She's smiling under there.

October 6, 2009 Tanner is feeling much better and will likely get to go home tomorrow. They were going to send her home today, but apparently needed to adjust one of the antibiotics they are giving her to make sure she is getting enough to be effective. They give that particular antibiotic by weight then measure it in the blood. Tanner’s body processes it quickly and she didn’t have enough in her bloodstream to be effective. So, one more day. Doctors say her lungs sound better and she has no fever.

She misses her Mommy, though. It is excrutiating for her to be there and not be able to be holding her hand or kissing her little face. Kids want their mommies when they are sick, and it is killing me to be stuck here, sick myself. John is awesome though and she had a visit today from the children’s minister at our church. I hate that he is having to handle this totally by himself… I feel useless.

They will do the dreaded Peg shots this afternoon. Hope they are quick and that the Ativan helps her handle them more easily.

Love,
Beth

In the Hospital

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October 4, 2009
As we feared, Tanner woke this morning with a fever and her cough had worsened. We didn’t wait for her appointment for the Peg Shots, but took her right in instead. I also woke this morning worse for wear, so John took her since I can’t expose the kids on that unit to my germs.

They found the beginning stages of pneumonia, so they are keeping her at least overnight and giving her IV antibiotics to help her recover. She escaped the Peg shots today… they haven’t said when they will give them, but we did learn that the Atavan works wonders for her anxiety. We gave it to her not knowing if they would give her the shots or not. They were going to give them to her initially, and even went so far as to put numbing cream on her legs and she handled it with great humor. But, once her oxygen level started dropping due to the pneumonia, they decided not to give them today. Thank God. All she needs is to be nauseated and throwing up on top of this illness.

I went to the doctor, too, and have bronchitis, so I cannot go to the hospital tonight. It is killing me not to be there.

John’s Mom is coming in the morning to help, so we’re all good. It will just be Jakey and me tonight.

I’ll keep you posted if we find out anything else.

Love,
Beth

We’ll See What Happens Tomorrow

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October 4, 2009 We’re just sick and tired… or at least I am. Tanner woke up Friday morning still pretty sick and slept for several hours mid-morning while my good friend Shelley took Jake to McDonalds with her little boy to play. By afternoon, though, Tanner was feeling a little better and by evening, it seemed like the worst of the nausea was finally at bay. Saturday morning she woke up feeling good and John took she and Jake bike riding in the morning. In the afternoon, we played on the school playground next to our neighborhood and I was impressed by how far she ran across the field and how much energy she seemed to have. But, she and I both began to cough Saturday afternoon. By Saturday night, both of us were hoarse and coughing quite a bit.

So, all day today, no one got out of their jammies. We played on computers, watched TV, painted our faces and generally took it easy. Tanner had a low fever in the 99s this afternoon and we started getting ourselves ready for a trip to the ER. But, her temperature had returned to normal by bedtime. So, we’ll keep an eye on her and hope for the best.

I can tell you that I had no energy at all today and felt pretty bad. So, I’m assuming she felt the same, but you would never know it. I kept telling John I was going to be pretty embarrassed if a kid with leukemia on tons of chemo kicked a cold that I couldn’t kick, but it may be true! She definitely had more energy than I did today.

We’ve been waiting for the steroids to rear their ugly head, but so far, so good. She’s had three full days and I suspect by tomorrow, we’ll start seeing some effect. For now, though, she’s been very good humored and isn’t eating a ton either.

So, tomorrow is a dreaded day… Peg shot day. I will be interested to see if they even give her the shots considering she obviously has some kind of virus. Even though I dread the shots, I just want to get them over with. I just get sick every time I think of it. It’s one of those moments when I feel like I am lying to her by not telling her about them, and even though I know it makes it easier for, I feel rotten about it. I just will never forget her looking at me and asking, “Why did you let them do that to me?” the last time we had these shots. Hopefully, the anti-anxiety drug we will give her beforehand will make it easier.

I’m not really sure how the chemo given through these shots will affect her. The side effects listed in my childhood leukemia book are numerous, but she was so sick from the leukemia last time she had these shots, you couldn’t tell what came from what. She goes back again on Thursday to receive Vincristine and the Doxirubicin that made her so sick last week. Needless to say, I think this is going to be a very tough month.
So, we need some positive mojo, here… prayers, well wishes, good karma in the universe… all these things. Hopefully, no fever by morning and the Peg shots go as well as possible.

Love,
Beth

Tanner Page… My Hero

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IMG_1231October 2, 2009 Tonight, as we crossed the Shelby Street Bridge, I looked behind me and in front of me to see thousands of illuminated red balloons, marching along at a determined pace, sweeping along with them the occasional bobbing white balloon for blood cancer survivors and too many gold balloons marking the loss of a loved one. Among these red balloons carried by those who love and support someone currently fighting blood cancer or someone who has survived and beaten it, somewhere around the middle of the pack, was a white balloon attached to a red wagon carrying a pale, but determined six-year-old propped up on pillows and wrapped in a pink High School Musical blanket. That child was my daughter and I was prouder of her in that moment than I have ever been before.

When I left the house at 5:30 pm to make my way to LP Field and meet up with Team Tanner, she was in my bed having managed to choke down a slice of bread and some applesauce. It was the first food she had eaten since the night before and she looked weak and sick, but was firm on the fact that she and John would meet me at the walk a little later. On my way downtown, John called to say she had thrown up 3 or 4 times and that they would not be coming. My heart sank… she wanted this so badly, had worked so hard to raise this money. While we were still on the phone, John says, “Wait, she’s up and says she’s coming!” We talked about keeping her home, but decided to let her make the call and she and John said they would be on their way shortly.

Tanner arrived, packed comfortably in her wagon, with a tired smile on her face, but happy. She said she felt better and joked and posed for pictures with the team. She never got out of the wagon except to go the bathroom and, even then, I carried her the few steps to and from the port-a-potty, but she never complained, and even perked up enough to, hilariously, eat a barbecue sandwich while being pulled through downtown Nashville by her Dad. She made it on sheer grit, a childlike desire for fun, and a maturity I had never seen her show on this level.

The walk was a beautiful event. The weather was perfect, downtown Nashville sparkled and there was an impressive turnout. I thought I would be a weepy mess, but I only cried once, when we found the luminary that Keith Harper created for her, lit along the side of the road with many others. It said, “Tanner Page, My Hero.” Indeed.IMG_1228

Other than that, it was a mostly joyous event that was too uplifting to make me cry. Even those who were walking in memorial of a loved seemed to be celebrating a life lived well, if not ended well.

Our team was wonderful and perfect, a great mix of our friends, some co-workers, some former co-workers, some church members, and some just old friends. I am glad to have shared this magical night with them… it was special for all of us, I think. Thanks to Robin, Kim, Beth, Glenn, Paula, Rebecca K and Rebecca L, Anna Lynn, Abbey, Amy, Keith, Leslie, Pat, Bobby, Lauren and Larry for walking with us. And, many thanks to everyone who donated; we raised more than $7,500. Larry wins the prize for having travelled the furthest; he hails from New Jersey and had flown in the night before from Maine, just to walk with us. Rebecca K wins the trooper award for walking nearly two miles and standing on her feet for an hour beforehand while 9 months pregnant (I am not worthy…). We are blessed many times over to have such wonderful friends who are carrying us through like the red balloons carried the whites.

We carried adorable signs that Robin made, with pictures of Tanner and slogans like “We love Tanner,” and “Team Tanner Rocks.” I think Tanner realized, for the first time, that she is not alone. That there are lots of people with cancer, that there are tons of people who love her, and that she is never alone in this journey, although she probably feels like it sometimes.

On the way home, I looked into the rearview mirror to see my little girl, asleep with the chain of glow bracelets Anna Lynn had brought her looped over her ears and dangling down, ridiculously. She had joked only minutes before that they looked like earrings, then asked if she could have her nighttime meds when we got home because she was starting to feel sick again. She looked beautiful and strong, even though she was pale and physically weak, and I marveled at her determination.

This is my daughter. And she is fighting cancer tooth and nail.

Love,
Beth