Category Archives: friends

Trick-or-Treat

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Wow! What a difference a year makes. Last year, Tanner had just been released from the hospital at 1 pm on Halloween after a 10-day stint for pneumonia. She had lost all her hair while in the hospital and had come home with her port accessed so we could give her IV antibiotics around the clock for the next few days.

This year, no worries. She is full of energy and has beautiful new curly hair and looked adorable as Alice in Wonderland. She and Jake had so much fun trick-or-treating. Our neighborhood was FULL of trick-or-treaters which always makes for a good time.

We’ve had a great weekend. Nothing special, just simple fun playing with neighbors and hanging out at home. I’m on day 4 of my low iodine diet. It’s a little repetitive and limiting and with no dairy allowed, I’m missing creamy stuff. But, I think I’m losing some weight, so there’s that silver lining you can almost always find!

The worst part of the diet is no chocolate or red dye #3, which pretty much eliminates all candy… on Halloween! It almost didn’t seem like Halloween without the candy coma.

Tanner will have to miss three days of school this week because they are offering the flu mist Tuesday, which is a live virus and Tanner can’t afford to be around a large number of people with that vaccine in their system. Dr. Mixan said three days. Wednesday is clinic day and she will have the dreaded LP. We’re forgoing all anti-anxiety meds this time. I’m going for bribes — silly bandz????? We’re also going to sit down with her and let her plan HOW she gets the sleepy milk. Does she want to lie on the table or have me hold her or sit in my lap. What does she want them to say before they give it? Or, does she want to count to three before they give it? Does she want music playing? What does she want to eat or drink when she wakes up? I think giving her control of what we can will help her feel less helpless. We’ll see.

Hope your Halloween was spooky and happy!

Love,
Beth

Telling It Like It Is

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October 28, 2010

I made it through my first day of the low iodine diet. Thanks to Beth and her yummy bread and muffins, it wasn’t too bad. Although I will say that scrambled egg whites are a little weird (no point in trying to make an omelet without cheese). I never realized how often I must take a little “taste” off the kids’ plates while I am fixing meals until today when I couldn’t.

Batman and the Joker joined forces today!

Jake had his Halloween party at school day. They wore costumes and trick-or-treated to all the classrooms and offices. He was Batman, of course, and his little best friend at school, Spencer, was the Joker. Too funny. Hilariously, he insisted on wearing his new Superman pajamas under his Batman costume so when he took it off, he was still a superhero! Imagine if Batman could really fly, instead of just gliding, and had x-ray vision in addition to that Batarang… talk about superpowers!

Last night, when I was picking up Tanner’s room before bedtime, I found a little piece of paper on her bed with “Wish List” written at the top. Tanner had written 10 things that she wished for. Most were cute things that any seven-year-old would wish for like “more Silly Bandz” and “All the Build-a-Bears I can make.” But, what broke my heart was #1 on the list… “No More Leukemia.” Further down the list, but not far behind, written in a second grader’s careful scrawl, was, “No More Medisun.” It solidified for me my suspicion that no matter how much Tanner seems immersed in school and friends and play rehearsals, leukemia is still top of mind for her. It still dominates her life.

John and I recently had a conversation about Tanner and I expressed my concern that all this fund-raising and cancer awareness stuff we are involved in could cause her identity to be wrapped up in having leukemia. John said, “It already is. How could it not be?”

And, he’s right, of course. How could a child endure the type of medical treatment she has had; be told all the time not to touch something, eat something or do something because she might get sick; and know how much longer it will go on, without it becoming an integral part of who she is? It’s become a part of who we all are, really.

And, now, ever so slowly, cancer is becoming a part of who I am. For the next two weeks, I will be reminded every time I choose something to eat, that I have cancer. I will cook and freeze food so my family will not have to cook while I am out of pocket. I will frantically try to do all the laundry and cleaning and grocery shopping I can do to leave the house in good condition before I’m not able to help anymore… again… for the third time in 3 months. No matter that it’s not a big, scary cancer like Tanner has… it’s still affecting us all. I can understand how leukemia is top of mind for Tanner.

If you remember, this summer I wrote about a film crew following us for a fund-raising video while we were at Vandy. The video is now available for viewing online at http://pediatrics.mc.vanderbilt.edu/interior.php?mid=7926. It’s a powerful testament to the blessing that the Children’s Hospital is to our community. Tanner appears at about 4:15 if you don’t want to watch the whole video (it’s about 8 minutes), although it’s worth watching. There are no words to describe how proud John and I are of her role in this video. From a child’s perspective, she tells it like it is. No adult explanations needed. Her child’s view is pretty mature, considering all she has been through.

As Tanner says, “Kids shouldn’t have to go through all this mess.”

Love,
Beth

Why Don’t I Have Cancer?

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October 18, 2010

As I was explaining to Jake this morning that Tanner needed a pink pill (Pepcid) because she has cancer, he innocently asked a question I really didn’t expect. “Why Don’t I Have Cancer?”

It broke my heart. See, he wanted one of those pink pills, just like he wants to get some of the gifts that Tanner gets (like the pink guitar), or the doctor that Tanner has (“I want to go to Dr. Mixan”). At 3 ½, Jake is just old enough to get that he’s not getting some of the things that Tanner is getting without understanding that he’s also not getting some of the things that Tanner is getting, if you get my drift. In other words, he sees that she has some “privileges” that he doesn’t, but doesn’t understand the price she pays for them.

So, now, my healthy little boy wants to have cancer, too. He’s too little to know you shouldn’t tempt fate by wishing for cancer in this family!

It was easier on Jake when he was too young to notice the special treatment Tanner sometimes receives (or what looks like special treatment to him). Jake was 2 when Tanner was diagnosed and was oblivious to all that. But, now he is just old enough to understand special treatment, but not old enough to understand that some of what looks like special treatment (clinic visits, medicine, extra hand sanitizing) is really not so great. I think he even envies her getting her port accessed.

And, just when I think he is completely jealous of her, I watch him be so supportive and sweet and think maybe he does get it. Last week, while Tanner was at school, we were riding in the car and I had an empty soda can in the cup holder. Jake said, “Mommy, give me the can so I can take off the pop top for Tanner… she will be so happy.”

It’s a difficult thing to manage… her needs versus his. How do you assure that she gets enough special treatment to make up for the medical treatments, teasing at school, missing out on social events and just feeling “different,” but not so much that it makes Jake feel like a second-class citizen? It’s just another element to the difficulty of having a child with a life threatening disease.

Tanner has had a somewhat difficult week or so. My “Mommy Radar” tells me something is going on and I am anxious to go into clinic on Wednesday for a counts check. She just doesn’t look good and her energy is not at its usual uncanny level. I actually took her to the pediatrician on Wednesday for a quick counts check, but all her levels were fine. There are a lot of kids at school sick with strep and some other viruses and I was worried about that. She looked pale and was complaining of shortness of breath and headache, both signs that her hemoglobin could be dropping. Thursday night, she came down with a stomach virus and was up all night vomiting. I thought surely she had strep, but she never got a fever or sore throat and was feeling better by Sunday. Now, tonight, she has a really bad stomachache that had me thinking we were headed to the ER. Tanner definitely knows what real pain is and she was showing me all those signs. I gave her a little painkiller and she has gone back to sleep, but all the same, I think I will sleep in her room tonight.

Even with all of this going on, we have managed to fit in lots of fun. Roller skating parties, gymnastics parties, S’mores with the neighbors, Gentry’s Pumpkin Farm, a Civil War reenactment battle, and so on and so on. It’s fall break and we’re headed to the zoo in the morning with friends for our last day of fun before school starts again.

I’m afraid on Wednesday that her counts will be so low, we’ll have to pull her out of school and other activities. It will be devastating to say the least.

It’s more than one mother or father can worry about some days. The kid who asks, “Why did I have to get cancer?” and the other who asks, “Why don’t I have cancer?” It’s a rock and a hard place for sure.

Love,
Beth

Lighting the Night with Joy

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October 8, 2010

Light the NIght 2009

Last year, at the Light the Night Walk, we pulled Tanner in a wagon, propped up on a pillow, and covered with a blanket. She was pale and weak and tired, but determined.

LIght the Night 2010Last night, as we crossed the parking lot at LP Field, John and I exchanged a meaningful glance as he took a video of our daughter, pulling that same wagon, loaded with chairs and posters, all the way to the tent. She was bright-eyed, pink cheeked and, as always, determined.

It was a beautiful night and our tent was overflowing with the love and support of the friends and family that came there to lift up our family. Jake came this year, which made the night complete. After all, the four of us all have cancer in one way or another.

We had the best time. Tanner had three good girlfriends there and they sang, danced and skipped their way through 1.75 miles of sparkling downtown Nashville. The kids had their faces painted by Titans cheerleaders, jumped in the inflatables and ooohed and ahhed at the fireworks that started right as we crossed the Shelby Street Bridge. Jake was fascinated with the lighted balloons and collected them from walkers as we went along.

How many squealing 7-year old girls can fit in a wagon?

It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. After I dropped the kids off at school that morning, I met my friend, Margaret, who had come all the way from New Jersey with her husband, Larry, to walk with us. We had coffee and shared stories, then I picked up both kids early from school and got them home and down for naps.

Then, I checked Team Tanner’s site.

I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

There had to be some mistake.

Just five hours earlier, when I had last checked the site, we had a little more than $15,000. More than I had ever dreamed and I was so grateful. At 2 pm we had $19,000… really.

I searched through the individual fund-raising pages to figure out where this much money had come from in such a short period of time. I began finding large donations from John’s coworkers at Franklin American Mortgage Company. As tears rolled down my cheeks, I called John to tell him to personally kiss all of them for me.

I checked the site again about 2 hours later… $21,000. More tears. Another call to John.

One final check before we got in the car to head to the walk… $24,132. My hands were shaking as I yelled out to John to look at the computer screen. Unbelievable. Nearly $10,000 in one day… we could probably fund a study just from the money raised by Team Tanner this year.

It is a dream of ours that no family ever have to go through this again. That no child ever have to sacrifice so much of their precious childhood to a disease so insidious that it would kill in a matter of weeks if left unchecked. A disease that hides in their little bodies for years, waiting for a weak moment so it can make it’s way back into their bloodstream. Last night went a long way towards realizing that dream. You all have helped us feel victorious when it is so easy to feel beaten down.

We are so grateful that there really are no words.

Love,
Beth, John, Tanner and Jake

P.S. The walk was such a beautiful celebration of the spirit with which children and adults fight for the right to keep living, to keep finding more and more joyous days.
But, I was reminded in one swift moment, how quickly cancer can end a celebration. I saw a friend whose son is 20 months out of treatment. She said they had been to clinic that day for his every 3-month blood check and his counts were still very low; they have never recovered from treatment. He is having a bone marrow biopsy today to determine whether the leukemia is back. Sobering and terrifying and I can’t stop thinking about them. Please pray that the leukemia leaves this little boy and his family alone so they can keep enjoying their lives.

A Very Lucky Girl

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September 27, 2010

Good grief! What a Sunday! The Lord’s Day… a day for worship, for fellowship, for community, for putting others before yourself. Thirty kids at Bethlehem United Methodist Church did just that on Sunday. They raised $2,400 for Team Tanner by baking and pounding the pavement, Light the Night style.

We arrived at church on Sunday morning in time to set up Tanner’s lemonade stand across from the kids’ bake sale and sold after early service and before late service. In a couple of hours, together, we made more than $1,000, thanks to the generosity of our congregation, people who have already shown us immeasurable kindness.

Then, Sunday night, we went back for the kids’ Light the Night Walk. They started in the gym and ended up outside running and walking around the parking lot. Preschoolers through 5th graders… kids who asked their classmates at school to bring in their change for Tanner… kids who went door to door in their neighborhood, sharing Tanner’s story and asking for help. At the end of the walk, they took their money, which they had folded up in bandannas and carried with them, and dumped it happily, one by one, into a green box. Tanner and I watched in disbelief as it piled up… $1,200 worth, collected by children just to help a friend.

It was a triumphant night. One in which kids dealt a blow to the type of cancer that makes up ¼ of all childhood cancers. Imagine if we were able to find a real cure for leukemia? One quarter of all childhood cancer would disappear in one fell swoop. So fitting that kids should play a role in that. I was so proud of them and so humbled by their enthusiasm and dedication to helping their friend.

But, the night wasn’t over. John took Jake home to go to bed, but Tanner and I headed to Rally Mania, the Rally Foundation for Childhood Cancer Research concert at the Factory in Franklin. Along with Tanner’s friend, Madelyn, and two other little girls, Tanner was a Rally Rock N’ Roll Princess. After dancing and singing for an hour or so, they brought the girls up on stage, each escorted by a teenage boy who was also a cancer survivor. As the crowd cheered and clapped, they presented the girls with pink guitars, signed by all the artists who participated in the concert, including Eddie Money, Kix Brooks, Ashley Cleveland and Jars of Clay. Tanner was beyond surprised and has been “writing” songs on it all afternoon today. We danced and sang until the very end and Eddie Money brought Tanner and another Rally Princess up on stage with him. Then he kissed Tanner’s hand and called her an “Angel.” We had so much fun and she felt so special.

That's Eddie Money pointing at Tanner!

On the way out of the concert, carrying the pink guitar in a big cardboard box, I told Tanner I thought she was a pretty lucky girl. It sounded odd as it came out of my mouth, considering what she has been through and still has on her plate, but it felt right anyway. I told her that her having leukemia had given us the ability to see the fullness of peoples’ kindness, their wonderful way of reaching out to help when we needed it most. She agreed and said, “I think a lot of people love me.”

So, now Team Tanner stands at $14,600… a number I never dreamed to reach.

Love,
Beth

Headed Home — Minus a Thyroid

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September 15, 2010

We’re waiting for discharge at Vanderbilt where I stayed last night after having the second half of my thyroid and, hopefully, all of my cancer, removed. Everything went very well, but we won’t know for sure whether or not I’ll need any radioactive iodine treatment until I see the endocrinologist. That’s the method of giving radiation to any remaining thyroid tissue by ingesting radioactive iodine, which is then absorbed by the thyroid. It would render me radioactive for a few days, but it has few side effects. The lymph nodes around my thyroid turned out not to be a real issue as they were, in my unique anatomy, down my neck further than normal. The doctor did take one parathyroid to test, just in case, and we won’t know about that for several weeks.

It takes a village. Beth stayed with me last night so John could go home. Mom and Kim got the kids to bed and walked Domino. Mom will be here all week and friends have started a dinner list, as usual. We are blessed beyond all understanding with the best friends and family anyone could ever hope for. We often feel we are wearing out our welcome, but they insist on helping anyway. Humbling for sure.

Just a short story about Tanner… she has been collecting soda can pop tops for Ronald McDonald house at school and home. She gets them from all the kids at her lunch table and brings them home and puts them in a little bag… all her idea. It has been driving her crazy that a little boy in her class won’t give her his pop tops. The morning of my surgery she asked me to print out a picture of her with long hair and with no hair. When I asked why she said, “I’m going to show Jordan so he knows why he should give me the pop tops.” LOVE that never give up attitude!

Thanks for all the well wishes. Can’t wait to get home.

Love,
Beth

Clinic Day #40

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September 8, 2010

Today was Tanner’s monthly clinic visit for Vincristine and counts. Her neutraphil counts were about where we expected them after having raised her chemo two weeks ago to 75% — 1,500, which is the high side of where they like them to be. If they are still up next month, they will raise her chemo again. I’m hoping that’s not the case as the last 2 or 3 times they have tried to raise her methotrexate level to 100%, her counts have crashed and it takes 3-4 weeks for them to come back up above 1,000. That would mean her missing a lot of school and be so disheartening for her. She’s doing so well.

It was the fastest clinic visit we have ever had. We were in an out in 1 ½ hours thanks to a new method of ordering chemo. Love Vanderbilt. She was back at school in time for lunch.

The weather cooperated enough for us to have a very successful lemonade stand! We don’t have an official count yet, because we have lots of coins to count, but we raised somewhere in the neighborhood of $170!!! Wow! She is so excited and can’t wait to tell Corinne at school tomorrow. Thanks to Corinne, Laurel and Ashley for being our lemonade stand partners.

We had some special visitors at our lemonade stand – Madelyn and her mom, Amy, and brother, Hudson! Madelyn is a little four-year-old girl who lives in our neighborhood and also has ALL. It was fun to see them and always great to be able to chat with Amy.

Started another 5-day pulse of steroids tonight. She is on the same increased dosage that she had such a hard time with last month. I hope she can hold it together enough to make it to her Alice in Wonderland rehearsal on Friday night. She has been counting the days down until this first rehearsal for two weeks.

Thanks to all the sweet former neighbors who were so generous to Tanner’s Lemonade for Leukemia stand today. We miss y’all!

Love,
Beth

Clinic Day #38 – What a Day

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August 11, 2010

I had such high hopes for Ativan easing Tanner through the LP today, but it did not turn out the way I had hoped at all.

The day started at about 2 am when Tanner woke with a nasty headache. I gave her some painkiller and she went back to sleep, but woke at 6 am screaming and clutching her head. I had a moment when I was right back to the night of her bactrim reaction; screaming and clutching her head was the last thing she did before going unconscious. I had to fight the impulse to throw her in the car and race to the hospital. But, then I remembered Cari saying something about headache being a possible side effect of the IVig transfusion. The on-call doctor confirmed my suspicions and told us to give her a full dose of oxycodone. If that wasn’t enough, they could give her morphine in the clinic.

Poor Tanner spent all morning with a horrible headache and nauseated. She slept in the car on the way to clinic with a trash can in her lap, and I carried her into the hospital. But, she started to feel a little better… until we gave her the ativan. Oh my.

So, ativan is an anti-anxiety med that has the added benefit of easing nausea as well. It seemed like the perfect choice to use for the LP. We have given it to Tanner before in a pill form and she did great on it. Just knocked the edge off of her. Apparently, the IV version works a little too well on her.

First, I noticed slurring and stumbling. Then, the silliness started. And, finally, the agitation and complete lack of impulse control set in.

By the time we got to the pre-op waiting area, she was just as silly as she could be. When I went up to register her, I noticed someone running… fast… out of the corner of my eye. I turned and it was… Tanner. She was bolting, running from a surgery she desperately did not want to have. She looked crazily gleeful, but turned panic-stricken and terrified when I caught her and tried to get her to let the nice lady put an armband on her. I knew when I heard the woman calling for help for the “child having an anxiety attack” in the lobby, that we were in trouble.

Usually, John and I do LP together. We both like to be there. But, today, John stayed home with Jake and I was solo, which made running down my little runaway, bogged down with a computer bag, purse and a bum neck, darn near impossible. We ended up putting me in a wheelchair with a vice grip around Tanner in my lap as the nurse pushed us to the pre-op area. She was totally disconnected from reality.

Sadly, being disconnected from reality didn’t change the way it all came down in the end. It happened the way it always does, no matter what we do. At the very end, she yelled, “Is that the sleepy milk?” and begged me to hold onto her and not leave her. So pitiful.

The doctors and nurses and I convened afterwards and just decided to give up on the anti-anxiety approach and just go straight at it from now on. If we have to hold her down, so be it; it’s what we end up doing anyway despite all efforts otherwise. They said she is smart enough to figure out every way we try to disguise it.

After she fell asleep in my arms on the table, I laid her down and kissed her and reminded myself that we just have four more of these before August 6, 2011. Just four more.

All the agitation was gone after she woke up from surgery. In fact, when I went to recovery she had the nurses totally cracking up because she was talking a mile-a-minute and being really funny. It took that damn ativan until about 4 pm to really wear off. Never again.

The good news is that she didn’t get sick from the methotrexate injected into her spine this time. She still has the headache though; it hasn’t gone away yet.

Tomorrow is the first day of school. Earlier today, it seemed impossible to think she would make it, but as always, Tanner’s will astounds me. We spent the last half hour before bed packing up her backpack, sharpening pencils and painting her fingernails. She’s ready.

In the retelling, today’s story seemed somewhat funny, but as is most often the case, it didn’t seem that way at the time. It occurred to me this afternoon, that the only difference between today and every other day Tanner has had an LP is that she didn’t have any impulse control today. The impulse to run away must be there every single time for her. Today, she was able to indulge herself and run wildly through the lobby, trying to escape a disease she never asked to get and a fate I would never wish upon anyone, much less a seven-year-old.

Love,
Beth

Fireworks and Fireflies

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July 4, 2010

Do you remember the magic of fireflies when you were young? The wonder of a little bug that comes out at night and lights up the darkening sky? Tanner and Jake almost never get to see them. We put them to bed so early, it’s still light out.

A couple of weeks ago, I bought some bug catchers and some butterfly nets so we could catch fireflies. I bought six of them so that when we had Lily and Madelyn’s families over for a cookout, we could stay up late and they could all catch some. That would have been last weekend, and the kids were really excited about it. Ironically, as would happen only when you try to get three kids with leukemia together, one of them ended up in the hospital. Little four-year-old Madelynn had a fever and low counts and we ended up canceling until everyone could come. Tanner was extremely disappointed.

Tonight, after having a great time decorating our bikes and riding in the Fourth of July bike parade in downtown Franklin, we planned to go to Corinne’s house to catch fireflies and, hopefully, see a few fireworks in the backyard. We set out with glow necklaces, silly string, bug catchers and butterfly nets in tow. The kids waited and waited for the fireflies to show up, and finally, they did.

They all ran around catching them in their nets and putting them in their bugcatchers. Tanner ran to me, elated that she had caught five fireflies. Then, she tripped over a jump rope and fell face first on top of her bug catcher. The bug catcher broke apart and fireflies streamed out into the sky. Tanner screamed; we thought at first she had hit her port and hurt herself, but she was hurt in a different way. Her little heart had endured as much disappointment as she could take. She grasped at the fireflies and sobbed as she watched them get away. There was no consoling her. I picked her up and hugged her to me and took her inside for a moment to try to calm her down, to tell her that there were lots more chances to catch fireflies this summer, that we could put hers in Jake’s bug catcher and take them all home with us. Nothing worked. She wasn’t crying about one disappointment; it was ten, maybe twenty, disappointments wrenching from her body in loud high pitched sobs.

She was mourning all the lost opportunities, all the times she has been told to be brave, that we’ll get to do it another time, that we can redo theatre camp, that she’ll get to go back to school eventually, that there will be another birthday party, another class trip, another chance to sing in the church choir, another dance lesson, another beach trip with my family.

Sometimes it is too much disappointment for an almost seven-year-old to handle. So many opportunities that disappear into the night like lost fireflies.

At home, we watched fireworks from the windows. She wanted to go outside and catch more fireflies, but she and Jake were exhausted and it was late. I promised her, once again, that there would be other opportunities. That we would invite friends over one night and catch fireflies in the yard. Just like I have promised her so many other things that will return to her once this disease has left our lives for good. Two-and-a-half years is an eternity to a child, especially one that lives on the edge of constant disappointment. It’s just too long.

Despite the meltdown, the night turned out okay. We returned home to find poor Domino in his crate barking furiously at the “intruders” that were making such loud booming noises. When we opened the crate door, he barreled out growling and barking, skidding around the corner to the front door, looking for the bad guy that might hurt his family. Love that dog. We took him down in the basement, where it wasn’t as noisy, and everyone played for a few minutes. Then, we watched some fireworks out the windows and went to bed. Turns out Jake and Domino feel similarly about fireworks. Both of them only like to watch them from inside; outside they are just “too woud.”

Luckily, I can recreate firefly catching any night of the summer. And, just like she always does, she’ll get over it. I just wish she didn’t have to.

Love,
Beth

Clinic Day #36 — Ever So Slowly

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July 1, 2010

We went into clinic this morning for counts. I was expecting, after three weeks of being on 50% oral chemo dosage, for her counts to be well up above 1,000… but… no. 900. 900? That’s it? That’s only gaining 100 neutraphils per week… pretty slow, but I guess at least it’s in the right direction.

There is a theory that after a long time on chemo, the body develops bone marrow fatigue. As if to say, “Why should I bother to make any new cells, you’re just going to kill them?” Seems realistic to me.

So, we’re not quite ready to dine out in a restaurant again, but we’re not hibernating either. We’ll take it.

Been busy swimming a lot, playing with Domino and having playdates. Tanner’s friend, Meredith, came over yesterday for a “slumbover”… that’s when you have a friend over in the afternoon and they stay for dinner, you put on your pajamas and watch movies and they go home at bedtime. They had a super time.

Tanner got her birthday present a little early today (her birthday is July 8th). She wanted a new bike and we gave it to her today so she could ride it in the 4th of July parade in Franklin on Sunday. She opened up the garage door to go out and ride her scooter and just screamed in delight when she saw it… I love that.

Please pray for our little friend, Madelynn and her family. Madelynn is four and lives in our neighborhood and has ALL. She has just started maintenance and is experiencing the roller coaster that is the first months of this stage as they try to find the right dosage to keep her counts stable. Maintenance is such a dance; we’re still doing it. But, those first few months are very unstable. We were actually supposed to have a cookout with Madelynn’s family and Lily’s family last weekend and, ironically, had to cancel because Madelynn was in the hospital with low counts and a fever. Thankfully, it turned out to be a pretty benign virus and she got to come home pretty quickly. But, her counts continue to stay very low. I ran into her Mom, Amy, walking in the neighborhood early the other morning. We talked briefly about how disappointing it is to start maintenance… it seems like it should be so great, but it’s actually pretty rocky. It’s just a tough pill to swallow when you’ve waited for those first awful six months to be over.

Love,
Beth