Category Archives: friends

Blessed Normalcy

Posted on by
2

Tanners B-Day Party 013July 13, 2009 I woke up this morning thinking how cruel it was that after feeling so good for the past week, Tanner was feeling very nauseated… the morning of her birthday party. But, 5 medicines and a bowl of cereal later, she was back in the game and the rest of the day was awesome!

The Build-a-bear party was the most normal experience we have had since Tanner was diagnosed. She was just a normal little girl having her 6th birthday party with 5 little giggling friends. They screamed, giggled, stuffed bears, sang the birthday song… all the normal stuff. She had a ball and forgot for a little while that she had leukemia.

Part of what made it so normal was the she didn’t need any help from us during the party. She has figured out a somewhat unorthodox, but effective method for getting herself up off the floor and was able to march around with everyone else without drawing any unusual attention to herself. Great fun!

Then, the piece de resistance… we took the training wheels back off the bike and rode the whole neighborhood. We stayed outside from 4:30 to 7 pm riding bikes, playing in the gravel, meeting neighbors and rolling in the grass. This is what I love to do with the kids. I love to be outside, to find unexpected friends and just let the fun happen. It snapped me out of a funk I had been in for days.

How amazing that Tanner is doing these things. Is there really chemo in that pill she is taking every day? How can she have this much energy? I think I had given up hope that she would be able to do these types of things for a long, long time.

We’re basking in it while we can.

Love,
Beth

It’s Just What People Do

Posted on by
4

July 11, 2009 Several weeks ago, I received an email from a friend in West Tennessee letting me know that an 8-year-old girl in his neck of the woods was just diagnosed with ALL. He passed on her Caring Bridge site address and I’ve checked in on her periodically since. Her name is Kinsee and she has T-cell ALL, which I knew to be more rare and more difficult to treat than most B-cell ALL’s (Tanner has pre-B cell ALL). This means a more aggressive treatment plan and a lower success rate. I was so sad for this family, but was captivated by the spunk of this little girl. She often writes her own journal entries, which hilariously, are all about food, since she is still on the aggressive steroids Tanner just finished.

Tanner and I pray every night for Kinsee, our friend Lily who is 8 and has pre-b ALL just like Tanner, and Bill Johnson, an adult fan of “Friends of Tanner,” who is going through cancer treatment. These are our known friends with cancer and we feel an odd kinship with them, though we have never met Bill or Kinsee.

Tonight, I went to Kinsee’s journal to check in on her progress. It had been a while and so I read back through a couple of weeks’ entries. My heart sunk. It has been determined that Kinsee has a very rare type of T-cell leukemia, known as “early” T-cell leukemia. I racked my brain, trying to remember if, in all my research about ALL, I had ever come across this type of T-cell ALL. I couldn’t. I googled it and found an press release dated Feb. 2009 saying that St. Jude, in conjunction with some Italian health authorities, have just discovered that this type of leukemia exists. It has previously been lumped in with all T-cell. Sadly, it is associated with a poor prognosis.

John and I sat on the sofa as I read him the press release, so sad for this family and so thankful that we have had such good news for Tanner’s outcomes at every turn. I said to John, “How do you hear that kind of news about your child?” He thought for a moment and said, “I think people probably ask themselves that same question about us.”

I remember hearing for the first time from the doctor that Tanner might have leukemia. It was, literally, inconceivable. She had back pain, not leukemia. We thought maybe kidney stones, appendicitis… but leukemia? It came out of left field and was just the most surreal, unbelievable thing. When the doctor first mentioned it, I was by myself with Tanner in the ER. I waited until John got to the hospital to tell him, because I was afraid he would wreck the car on the way to the hospital if I told him over the phone. When our pediatrician arrived at the hospital that evening and told us to “prepare yourselves for the fact that it is probably leukemia,” I had such a visceral, physical reaction to those words. I sobbed, I shook, my teeth chattered…

But, over the next few days, while we waited for them to rule out any other options and for the results of the bone marrow biopsy, which is the definitive test for leukemia, we slowly began to accept the idea. I couldn’t tell you how… you just do… because you have no choice, really.

So, I imagine this family hearing that their sweet little girl’s prognosis was much worse than they originally thought, reacted much the same… they sobbed, they shook, they shook their fist at God, and then they accepted it… because they have no choice.

When you child is sick, they need you plain and simple. It is the most natural thing in the world to respond to that need; it’s not heroic or extraordinary, it’s just what people do.

There are no Mother Teresa’s here at the Page house. We are just putting one foot in front of the other because we have to, and because, after a period of time, you accept what is in front of you, and this becomes your new normal. We get tired, crabby, fed up, frustrated and exasperated just like all parents do. And, we laugh, play, get silly, and goof off, just like all families do. Cancer doesn’t change that.

With this blog, I try to resolve my feelings at the end of every day. I try to find the bright spot that maybe wasn’t so evident in the thick of the day. I choose to focus on a moment, however small, that was beautiful, or poignant or sad or gutwrenching and pull out of it what was good, or what can be good tomorrow. It’s just how I, personally, handle this situation. You might handle it differently, but you would handle it, nonethless… believe me. It’s just what people do.

Love,
Beth

True Friends

Posted on by
2

July 7, 2009 When this whole thing started, someone made a comment to me that an ordeal like this will let you know who your true friends are.

I have no idea what they were talking about.

We’ve had nothing short of an outpouring of friendship and love in the last month. When I look around me I see friends everywhere. Right now, there are 455 fans of Tanner’s “Friends of Tanner” Facebook page and I know there are more who log directly on to Tanner Time. Some of those people we haven’t seen for a while — college friends, former co-workers, family friends and whatnot. Some we see lots. Some are acquaintances. And, some we’ve never met. But, here’s the thing; anyone who loves my daughter enough to check in on her every couple of days, who cares enough about us to send us heartfelt words of encouragement that help us get through the day, who offers to help even when we don’t realize we need it… anyone who does these kinds of things is a friend in my book. What else could you ask for from a friend, right?

In the last month, we’ve reconnected with some people that we haven’t seen in a while. They’re the kind of people with whom you pick right up where you left off, as if no time had passed at all. They love our kids… and us, and we love them. They invite us to dinner at their houses, since they know we can’t go out to eat; they bring us brownies and blue powerade; they knit hats for Tanner’s impending bald head. Their kids treat our daughter with kindness, gentleness and love.

Then, there are those that have always been here for us. The friends we see every week, and know, without even asking, that they are at the ready when we need them. They watch Jake so both John and I can go to Clinic with Tanner, they come over and sit in our house after the kids have gone to bed so John and I can take a walk together, they carry my tired child across the street at the end of the night, and they drop by with crafts to remind Tanner she isn’t forgotten.

We are lucky beyond all understanding.

So, maybe what that person said to me was true… an ordeal like this really will let you know who your true friends are. I am humbled to say ours are somewhere around 600 strong and growing.

Love,
Beth

Independence Day

Posted on by
8

July 5, 2009 If you told John and I a week ago that we could have had the kind of holiday weekend we have had, we never would have believed you. Our daughter is back! Instead of having to convince her to get off the couch, we have to convince her to take a nap.

What did we do this weekend? A better question would be what didn’t we do? Saturday morning we went swimming at the Whitler’s. If you didn’t see Tanner fall on the way to the pool or labor down the stairs, you would have never know there was anything wrong. In the water, she is her old swimming self. Flips under water, swimming to the bottom for torpedoes Jake kept throwing into the pool, paddling across the deep end. She looked like any other kid. It was a moment of pure joy for John and I to watch her in an arena where she could match up to other kids.

Having said that, she was exhausted afterwards. I had to wake her 3 hours into a nap so we could go to a 4th of July cookout at the Adkins’ across the street. The original plan was to go over at 5:30 or so, then come home for a little while for a rest and then go back for fireworks. Apparently, that was not Tanner’s plan. We stayed straight through until almost 9 pm. They ate, played inside and outside, caught fireflies, ate freezer pops and did everything a kid should do at a cookout. Tanner was right there with the other kids. Sure she couldn’t jump or run to catch a firefly and she fell several times, but she hung in there and had a great time. Again, though, when she got tired, it was instant. She suddenly said, “Mom, can we go home now? Right now?” Kendall carried her across the street to the house. John and Jake had gone home earlier when Jake discovered that he did NOT like fireworks. “I not like that BOOM!” he said, with his little hands over his ears.

Sunday was the best day of all. We hung around and took it easy all morning… because… Roger Day was coming to our house for a private concert!!! If you don’t know who Roger Day is and you have kids (or grandkids), you should. He’s awesome. He’s a singer/songwriter that the kids love and the parents can actually enjoy as well. His lyrics are funny and clever, but the music is solid and his concerts are tons of fun. We’ve seen him a number of times and own all his Cds and his video. He plays all over the country, but lives right here in Franklin. You can check him out at www.rogerday.com. A million thanks to him for taking time out of his Sunday to help a little girl who can’t go to his concert this Thursday at Brentwood library (shameless plug). We always go to see him when he plays in town, but can’t anymore because of Tanner’s immune system. After he left, he actually drove all the way home and came back with a signed T-shirt for Tanner that he had forgotten to bring. Nice guy or what?

We invited a few friends over to sing and dance with us and had the best time. All the kids were dancing and doing all the special moves to “Mosquito Burrito” and “Roly Poly.” A physical therapist couldn’t have worked Tanner out any better. Roger played for nearly an hour and serenaded Tanner with his cool Happy Birthday song. She was thrilled. We’ll try to post some video to the site, if we can, to show what fun the kids had. The funniest part was when Roger came through the door and Tanner saw him. She walked to him, intending to throw her arms around his waist in a hug, but fell right before she got to him. Miraculously, she played it off as if she had meant to do it and threw her arms around his calves instead, saying, “You’re Awesome!” She never missed a beat.

After Roger left, Tanner went to Corinne’s house for Ms. Ashley’s famous homemade pizza. Ashley called at 6:30 to say that Tanner was going to fall asleep in her plate if I didn’t come get her. While she was there a tooth fell out, too. When I went to get her, she asked if I would carry her home and when I picked her up, she whispered in my ear, “Can we go straight to bed?” Which is exactly what we did. Exhausted, but happy.

In short, this weekend was better than we could have ever hoped for. I’m not so naïve as to think that there aren’t hard times ahead, but I’m just trying to live in this moment and not worry about what next week will be like. We’ll hang on to the memory of this weekend for a long time and bring it out when we need it to remind us of what is at the end of this long journey. It was the first time that I felt like we ruled the leukemia instead of it ruling us. We got the best of it and declared our independence from it, even if temporarily.

Happy Independence Day! Hope yours was even half what ours was.

Love,
Beth

Sleep… Blessed Sleep

Posted on by
1

I find that the less I sleep, the more I realize how underrated it is. By yesterday afternoon, it had become my number one priority. Ironically, Tanner, who was awake with me until 1 am the night before, and had a virus to boot, didn’t seem tired at all. But, last night, for the first time in nearly a month, the whole family slept, peacefully and relatively uninterrupted for a good 10 hours or more. Tanner woke up to go to the bathroom twice, but didn’t eat at all or ask for any painkiller… both miracles and evidence that the steroids are leaving for real.

We see lots of evidence of the steroids’ retreat: a return of our happy, laughing little girl; less stomach aches, more sleeping and less eating. All wonderful things. We are so thankful. It is one thing to have someone tell you you’re little girl will come back to you after the steroids wear off, it is another thing to believe it. I’m glad it turned out to be true.

She laughed hysterically most of yesterday afternoon (maybe she was delirious), which was really good to hear. She made “driver’s licenses” for she and Jake out of business cards this morning and kept asking us to check them. Gladly. Can’t remember the last time she pretended anything.

Even the swelling seems to be going down in her face and stomach, which makes her a little more recognizable as Tanner.

Sadly, she realized last night that she will not be able to go to the Franklin 4th parade today. It’s been a tradition for us to decorate bikes with our neighbors and ride in the parade. She was crushed. We talked for a while about how long it would be until she could be among people again and she figured out that she wouldn’t be going to school in the fall. Again… crushed. She doesn’t want to go in halfway as the “new kid” and is afraid kids will make fun of her and call her names. We talked about it and decided that she would know many of the kids in her class from last year and that we would do all we could to be involved throughout the year so she wouldn’t feel like a “new kid.” She felt a little better and then had the idea that our friends could take pictures of the parade and she could look at them tonight. We saw our friends this morning and Tanner happily yelled to them to take pictures. Amazing. We are going to their house for a cookout tonight and fireworks, if we can take an afternoon nap so we can stay awake.

Special thanks to our friends the Whitlers who created and host this blog for me, and who brought us the most delicious dinner last night. Celia has written a song for Tanner and they sat on the couch and made some changes to it yesterday. Tanner laughed a lot and seemed pleased to have a song written about her. Celia is going to put a melody to the song and come sing it for Tanner. Truly priceless.

Speaking of singing, Tanner’s favorite kid’s singer, Roger Day, is going to do a private concert at our house soon. So excited. We have every CD he ever made and it is so kind of him to do this for her.

So, for all the things we can’t do, there are other really special things to take their place. And, as my Aunt Debbie once told me about something totally different, “It is a season of your life.” It applies here as well. In 6-9 months, we’ll be in maintenance, and although it will be no picnic, we should be able to have a more normal life. And, by then, my almost 6 year old will have taught me how to accept the things that life hands you with grace and a smile.

In the Hospital… again

Posted on by
Reply

Well, it was shaping up to be such a good week, but Tanner came down with a low fever this morning that crept up to the dreaded 100.4. Once it hits 100.4, we have to come to the hospital to be checked out. We thought we were going to make it into the clinic, but with traffic, didn’t make it in time and had to come in the the ER. They did some bloodwork and her counts look good, and normally they would have done some IV antibiotics and let us go home provided we come back to the clinic tomorrow for a follow-up. Since it’s a holiday tomorrow and the clinic is closed, we are having to stay overnight so they can do bloodwork tomorrow and just keep and eye on her. Unfortunately, the hospital is full, so it looks like we’re stuck in the ER for the night. It’s noisy in the ER and no one sleeps very well here. It’s 10:30 and Tanner has still not been able to go to sleep due to all the interruptions and some pain. No nap today, either. I’ll be “sleeping” sitting up in a rocking chair. Lovely.

I’m a little glad we’re staying, though. She’s having more leg pain than normal and odd hot and cold flashes even though her fever is down. Better here than at home where all of this would be freaking me out.

The reality of this disease never ceases to amaze me. We were planning an afternoon swim at the Whitlers today and Tanner was so much more vibrant today. Even while she had a fever, we sat at the kitchen table and painted suncatchers, a project from VBS, which we missed, but a friend was nice enough to bring the crafts by. Just makes you feel like everything could go wrong at any moment. I’ve never been a worrier, but by the end of this I may be.

Did I mention that Jake and I have had colds and that’s probably why she has this fever? Imagine feeling like the smallest sniffle you have could be deadly for your child. I’ve hand sanitized myself to death, gone to the minute clinic and begged antibiotics out of them so I would get better quicker and even worn a mask around her at my worst. But, I’m learning that even when her counts are good, she still doesn’t have even close to the immune system you or I would have.

Thank God my Mom was in town so I could leave the house quickly without worrying about Jake. I keep thinking I can do this by myself, but I can’t.

Anyway, I’m rambling now and Tanner’s pain is increasing. I’ve had them call her oncology team because something weird is going on… my Mommy radar is going off. I’m going to see if they can get her some stronger pain meds.

Will update in the morning.

Beth

More Great News!

Posted on by
4

In the words of Tanner’s doctor she is now among the “lowest risk” of all leukemias. The results of the detailed bone marrow study from yesterday confirm that there is no leukemia left in Tanner’s bone marrow. TAKE THAT CANCER!!! This isn’t some cupcake you’re dealing with here… this is Tanner Page. I mean, have you ever seen this child throw a tantrum? If you had, you would have never chosen her as an incubator for your vile, evil lazy leukemia cells. You would have recognized that you have met your match! Just move on, give up and DON’T BOTHER TO COME BACK!!! This is how we roll at the Page house and you are NOT up to it… I promise!

So many things to be thankful for this week. Our last day of steroids for a while, the end of the first phase of treatment, Induction, and now this. Just two days with no steroids and I can already see a difference in Tanner. She is still eating like a maniac, but she was definitely more lively and sassy today and her stomach pain seems to be lessening. Hoping she sleeps better tonight.

Thanks to all our friends who came by today, we had a great day. Tanner had visits from Gracie, Leah and Zach and Grandmom came today, too. Big day with lots of fun. Thanks to Leah for teaching Tanner how to “finger weave.” She sat on the sofa all afternoon weaving a very long rope. It made me happy to see her sitting up for that long instead of lying down.

Tonight as we were going to bed, I tried to tell Tanner how proud I am of her. I just hope it sinks in because usually she looks like she’s just embarrassed when I say stuff like that. I tried to explain “grace” to her, which is very difficult, I found out, to explain in terms that a five-year-old can understand. I finally resorted to referencing a Disney movie “Princess Protection Program” to explain the concept. I think she understood. I told her that I was particularly impressed by how she was handling losing her hair, which has been falling out for the last week or so. She looked shocked and said, “My hair isn’t falling out!” Oh no, I thought, she’s in denial now. Then, she exploded into peals of laughter and shrieked, “I’m going to glue it back on! No, I’ll finger weave it to my head!!!” We laughed hysterically and I reminded myself how lucky I am to have gotten such a kid. I’m glad to see her sense of humor returning to her. Goodbye steroids… for now.

Thanks again for everything people are doing for us. We are humbled every day by the outpouring of support our child has inspired. She is awesome and we know it, but to see many others recognize it and lift her up and help carry her through this awful mess is so touching. We are blessed by those who love our daughter and care about her plight in this way. All we can do to repay this kindness is to pay it forward. To hope that our story will help inspire people to demand that no other family ever have to live through this again. To donate, to give time and energy and to raise awareness for childhood cancer.

Love,
Beth

We made it!

Posted on by
4

We made it! Tanner took her last dose of steroids last night and we finished our last day of Induction today! Tanner and I high-fived today as she, John, Jake and I goofed around in the playroom. She and Jake were taking turns riding the SmartCycle (how can she ride that so fast and still have so much trouble walking?) and rolling around on the floor. Tanner asked to go for an airplane ride on my legs (no easy task with her recent weight gain!) and wanted to do dance, dance revolution on the Wii. She is coming back to us slowly, in little stutter steps, interrupted by moments of pain and fatigue, but back nonetheless. I’ve missed her and can’t wait to see more my funny, lively daughter.

We had such a smooth visit at the Clinic today. It is scary how normal taking our daughter into surgery is becoming. You know when the Dr. says, “you know the drill,” instead of telling you all things that could possibly go wrong, that you’re becoming a regular. Tanner was a champ today. She chatted casually (about food, of course) with the nurse while she put the IV into her port — no crying, no screaming, not even any wincing. And, when we came to recovery, she had the doctor and nurses cracking up talking about tacos and Sonic. Unbelievable how far she has come in a month.

We’ll have the results of the bone marrow biopsy on Thursday (7/2/09). They use a more sensitive test this time to determine whether there is any cancer left in her bone marrow. Fingers crossed, but I know it will be good — Tanner’s fighting too hard for it to be any other way.

Even though it was a day of celebration, we definitely had a disappointment as well. We were under the impression that Tanner had a week off between the Induction and Consolidation phases of her treatment. We thought that today she was having a spinal tap with a chemo injection into her spinal fluid, the bone marrow biopsy and a dose of vincristine, then we thought we didn’t have to come in next week. Uh-uh. We had the bone marrow and spinal today, but no vincristine. Next Thursday (7/9/09), we go in for another spinal, a dose of vincristine and we start daily oral chemo. Does anyone see a break here? Chemo this week, chemo next week. Surgery this week, surgery next week. Hmmmm. I just keep reminding myself that there are no steroids involved in any of this. Maybe that’s the break.

We also talked in more detail with Dr. Mixan about Tanner’s leg weakness and pain. He said there could be three possible culprits: 1) Since Tanner had a such a high infiltration of leukemia cells in her marrow — 95% — it put great stress on her bones and she could still be having pain from that. 2) the steroids cause muscle weakness and she might get better as the effect of the steroids fade. 3) The vincristine causes nerve pain and weakness. So, we’re going to wait a couple of weeks and see if that gets better and continue to encourage her to move more. If we don’t see a significant improvement, we’ll start doing therapy.

All in all, a pretty good day. Having a visit from friends tomorrow morning and my Mom is coming for a few days to help. Jake and I have big plans for the pool and, hopefully, we might get Tanner to the Whitler’s pool in the next few days once her bone marrow site heals. Good stuff.

One more thing. Without sounding preachy, let me give you some unsolicited advice. Appreciate the things you are able to do with your kids, even the mundane ones. I used to wish I didn’t have to take the kids with me to the grocery store, and now that I can’t, I miss just doing that little regular stuff with them. Being able to just trot out the door on errands and stop off at the playground or McDonald’s playland without thinking about blood counts, germs or immune systems. I never thought something like this could happen to us, but it did. So, appreciate the little things that you have; they really are precious.

Love,
Beth

My superhero

Posted on by
2

Today, a little boy from Tanner’s kindergarten class came by to give Tanner an adorable card he made her. On the front, it said “Super Tanner” and had a picture of Tanner flying in a cape. Inside was a sweet note, dictated to his Mom, about how Tanner was a superhero who was going to win the battle against the evil leukemia monster… adorable and so true.

Today, my needle-phobic child who has to take anti-anxiety medicine just to go to the dentist, showed the child life lady a hilarious video of Jake in one of Lily’s pink wigs while the nurse put the IV line into her port. No holding her arms down, no screaming, no crying. A little wimpering after it was all over and a little visible anxiety beforehand, but wow, what a difference. Then, when it was time to take it out, again, no big deal. Last week we had to lay on her legs and hold her arms. Amazing. Tanner Page, my superhero.

It is humbling to discover what a five-year-old can learn to accept. She has accepted that she has cancer, that no matter how repulsive a medicine may taste, the pain relief is worth it, and that she will lose her precious hair. She will accept so many other things that a five-year-old shouldn’t have to accept, but she will be so strong when she finally beats this.

The other day, she asked the question we had been dreading most: “Mom, do people die from leukemia?” I knew this question would eventually come, but didn’t expect it so soon and wasn’t really prepared the way I wanted to be. John and I paused and then I explained that grown ups and little tiny babies get leukemia, too, and that they sometimes die because they can’t fight infection as well, but that kids like her do super with leukemia. This seemed to satisfy her for the moment, but I know the question will come up again, and, eventually, she’ll figure out that some kids do die from leukemia. Then, she will have to accept that, too.

But, I’ll do everything I can to assure she never accepts that SHE might die. No way. I’ve never even considered it ,and I don’t want her too, either. That is not her fate. She is a superhero and superheroes never give up and always beat the bad guy.

Love,
Beth

Baby Steps

Posted on by
4

Most of you probably know that Tanner was in the hospital two months ago for a life threatening reaction to Bactrim and, possibly, ehrlichiosis which is a tick-borne illness. She had to be lifeflighted on a Monday night and was gravely ill for several days before being released on Friday afternoon with a course of antibiotics to finish as our only reminder of our time there. Tanner was sad and depressed in the hospital (it doesn’t suit her bubbly nature) and didn’t even want to get out of bed until I made her. But, as soon as we left the hospital, she came alive and never looked back. The next morning, she was playing Wii with friends, refusing to take a nap, and demonstrating jump rope moves for her brother. By Monday, she was back at school with no indication that anything had ever been wrong. Not bad for someone who was on a helicopter with a 50/50 chance just a week earlier.

That is my kind of illness… quick and dirty, with immediate results. I’m not really cut out for stuff that lingers. I like the kind of job where you work harder than everyone else and you see the best results immediately. I could never be a farmer… heck, I can’t even keep the plants the kids give me for mother’s day alive for more than a couple of weeks. All that watering, day in and day out… you get the picture.

So, when Tanner left the hospital after her leukemia diagnosis, I guess in the back of my mind, I thought things would get better… that she would bounce back the way she did before. Not that I was so stupid as to believe she was going to lick leukemia in a few weeks, but I guess I expected there to be some kind of forward motion to her recovery.

There is no forward motion. Only back and forth, up and down, side to side. Anything but consistent forward progress. Cancer has to be one of the only diseases for which the treatment is as bad or worse than the disease itself. The cure that almost kills you, as I like to say.

So, here’s how a typical day goes: Tanner wakes up crying this morning (as she does every morning since taking the steroids), after pain medicine, she feels a little better, eats voluminously and watches TV. She knows that eating too much will hurt her stomach, but its like the pull of the steroids outweighs common sense and she overeats, resulting in an ugly tummy ache. I give her something to help her tummy and then she plays on her computer for a while and helps Jake play on mine. Then, we go upstairs where she lays on the floor and talks to Jake while he plays. When we decide to go downstairs again, she begs for my help getting up off the floor. Even though I want to help, I know she needs to use those muscles and encourage her to do it on her own. This causes a giant temper tantrum (steroids, lack of sleep) that causes me to have to send her to her room where she promptly falls asleep for 2 1/2 hours. After she wakes, we eat more, of course, and go across the street to her friend Corinne’s house. I haven’t told Tanner about this because I know she won’t want to go… it makes her so anxious. As I expect, she balks at going and we arrive with her crying. Poor Corinne looks alarmed, but sweetly asks what’s wrong and invites Tanner to sit on a little couch in the playroom. Within minutes, they are looking at my new iphone and comparing games. They spend the next hour happily drawing and talking together on the sofa. I have to pry her off to go home. The trip home seems like miles. Her legs buckle on the stairs out of the house and she falls onto her bottom. It goes downhill from there. The heat beats her and she is exhausted when we get home. We regroup and have a much-anticipated visit from Lily, an 8-year-old little girl from Franklin who also has pre-b cell ALL and is about 7 months into treatment. It is their first meeting and we were excited to see her. But, the horrible stomach ache returns and Tanner can’t really enjoy the visit the way she wants to. Her stomach gets worse and worse and she can’t eat the McDonalds she wanted so badly all day long. We finally manage to get the right medicine to ease her pain just in time for bedtime.

So, it’s not just one day up and one day down, it’s 15 minutes up and 15 minutes down. You never know when a symptom will creep up and rob her of her personality temporarily. And, even though I know the tests show she’s kicking leukemia’s ass mightily, I don’t see it. I just see a little girl who can be giggling and cutting up one minute and groaning in pain the next.

So, I’m learning to take baby steps. To not expect it to get progressively better each day, but to have faith that it will get better… eventually. I guess I’m going to have to learn how to water a plant every day no matter how slowly it seems to be growing.

Love,
Beth