Category Archives: friends

Lemonade for Leukemia

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Lemonade for Leukemia

Lemonade for Leukemia

September 28, 2009 This afternoon, Tanner, Jake and I made a pink sign that said, “Lemonade for Leukemia.” Then, while Tanner had school with Mrs. O’Hara in her classroom, Jake and I made lemonade and packed the wagon with a card table and chairs, cups and Leukemia and Lymphoma Society red bracelets.

At 5:10, we pulled the wagon across the street and set up shop. An hour later, we packed back up, having collected $259 for Tanner’s Light the Night Team. Yes, you read correctly… $259!!! Tanner is so excited. We came home and I thought after dinner we would count up the money and make the donation on-line. But, Tanner had other ideas… she wanted to know if she could have the loose change that John and I throw into various containers throughout the house. Needless to say, we’re taking it tomorrow to Kroger to put it in the Coinstar machine to be counted.

But, here’s the best part… she lost a tooth today (that’s a whole other story) and we put it under her pillow for the tooth fairy. After putting her to bed, I came down to eat dinner and she showed up on the balcony and said, “Mom, I want to write a note to the tooth fairy to ask for extra money for Light the Night. Can you help me?”

So, she dictated the following note:

Dear Tooth Fairy,
Please leave extra money so I can get ahead of the other team and have the most money for Light the Night.
Love, Tanner, Jake, Mommy and Tanner

She asked me, while I was writing the note, why I kept laughing. I wanted to tell her that I loved her competitiveness, her never-give-up attitude and her wonderful innocence in thinking that we could somehow make up the $4,000 that separates us from the first place team. That is the attitude that will help her come through this stronger than before and I love seeing it.

So, look out! Tanner Page is on a rampage to be the high dollar fundraiser for Light the Night this year.

I want to thank my friend Robin Embry for putting together this Light the Night team for us and all my dear friends at Lovell Communications for jumping in to help. I don’t think we would have ever done this without her and it has turned out to be the most positive thing for us. I know that I’ve dedicated a lot of blog space to this event, but it’s not just because we want so badly to see this cancer eradicated. This fundraiser has given us, and especially Tanner, something positive to focus on and has empowered her to feel like she could have some effect on this disease. That is priceless and we thank everyone for helping her feel this way.

Now, excuse me while I go find my wallet and make sure the tooth fairy is generous.

Love,
Beth

This Is How a Cure Happens

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September 27, 2009 I’ve been sitting here on the sofa for the last hour writing thank you emails to those who have donated to Tanner’s Light the Night Team. I’m happy to say it’s not the first time I’ve spent time writing thank yous for the event, nor will it be the last, as I am still not finished. I’ve had tears in my eyes for the vast majority of the time I’ve been writing. I can’t believe the generosity of our friends, our family and those we have never even met.

Tanner was so excited when I told her that we had passed our goal. In fact, we haven’t just passed it, we’ve blown right by it in a flurry of generosity that has made me hopeful that someday, no one will have to ever get leukemia. In the past four days, we have raised another $1,000 for a total, as of this writing, of $5,920. I can’t believe it!

This is a how a cure happens… one donation at a time… donations in honor of a little girl who appreciates it so much.

We’re planning our lemonade stand for this week so Tanner can contribute as well. She’s really excited and so hopeful that she’ll be able to walk with us on Thursday. John and I said today it will be a “perfect storm” of circumstances if she is able to come, but we’re still hoping.

We had a wonderful weekend. My parents took on the responsibility of Tanner’s medication (I didn’t realize how complicated it was until I tried to explain it) and kept the kids overnight while John and stayed in downtown Nashville Friday night. We had a great dinner at my favorite restaurant, a good night’s sleep and a leisurely, uninterrupted breakfast before meandering our way home Saturday afternoon. It was wonderful and my parents are awesome. They stayed with us Saturday night and the kids loved getting to see them.

Tanner has had some odd moments of not feeling well and not being able to describe her symptoms that have me worrying about her red counts, but her energy continues to be great, so I’m trying not to worry about it. Poor thing, I keep staring at her face to see if her lips are blue and picking up her hands to look at her fingernails. I’m sure she’s sick of me.

We have some cancer kid friends that need your prayers … Tanner reminded me last night not to forget to pray for Kinsee – an eight-year-old with T-cell ALL who goes to St. Jude on Tuesday to begin preparing for a bone-marrow transplant. She will undergo intensive radiation and chemo treatments until all the cells in her bone marrow have been killed and her white counts are down to 0. Then, they will transplant the donor’s marrow into her bones and see if she recovers. She will be in the hospital for a minimum of 100 days. This is a very dangerous procedure that, Thank God, is not part of Tanner’s treatment plan.

Another eight-year-old you have probably heard me talk about, Lily, has had very low neutraphil counts. Neutraphils are your big, infection-fighting white cells and a normal count level would be from 5-10,000. Lily’s neutraphils last week were at 300. She has had to be pulled out of school until her counts recover, after just having been able to return. Lily has not been feeling well the last two days and has had a low fever. Please pray that her immune system recovers and she does not have an infection or virus.

Thank you so much to everyone who has donated to help stop this disease, or at least find a more humane way of treating it.

We love you,
Beth

A Milestone Clinic Day

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September 17, 2009 Today was Tanner’s last treatment in Interim Maintenance, the third of five phases of treatment for ALL! A milestone, for sure. My Mom and I were saying on the phone that this phase has gone quickly, I think in part, because we were on a 10-day cycle instead of a 7-day cycle, and also because Tanner has handled it so well. We now have two weeks before the next phase begins — Delayed Intensification — from the looks of it, and from everything I have heard, the hardest phase.

Tanner’s neutraphils (big, infection fighting white cells) were still up around 3,500 this time (normal is 4-10,000), which is very high for a kid on chemo. No one can explain this to us, but we’ll take it. As I suspected, her red counts have dropped. Her Hemoglobin (red cells that carry oxygen throughout your body) was a little above where they would give her a transfusion. They said she could get one, since she is experiencing symptoms of low red counts, but we decided to wait and see if her body would bring it up on it’s own. We’ll go in for counts only, no chemo, again next Thursday to check and will keep an eye out for increased paleness, fatigue, shortness of breath and headaches in the meantime. All these are signs of anemia, and while Tanner has been consistently anemic since being diagnosed (most leukemia kids will be), dropping below a certain level will necessitate a transfusion.

It was a hard day for both of us today. I think having to go to the hospital every week for these exhausting days is just getting really old. After having been such a pro about having her port accessed last week, Tanner had a mini-meltdown about it today. I stepped out in the hallway and let her favorite nurse, Carrie, handle it, which actually seemed to help. They worked it out. But, then, Dr. Mixan told us she would have a flu shot today. I know a flu shot should be no big deal to a kid who goes through what she goes through every week, but shots have always been a big traumatic experience for Tanner. Today was no different and three of us had to hold her down to get it done. Afterwards she crawled into Carrie’s lap and sobbed. She kept saying, “It’s scary… I’m scared.”

While getting her chemo, which begins making her sick to her stomach while they are still putting it in, we watched a tiny little girl, no more than two, throw up two seats down from us. From her mother’s calm reaction, it seemed a pretty normal occurrence. Tanner said she felt bad for that poor baby and knew how she felt.

I keep dreaming about Tanner’s chemo. In my dreams, I watch them hook the syringe full of chemo up to the line off of her port and slowly squeeze it in. Clear Vincristine and bright yellow Methotrexate (Tanner says it looks like pee). Over and over again. And, I wake, wondering what it feels like and how it makes her feel.

The first three months of both my pregnanacies, I was nauseated. I never threw up, but felt like I wanted to most of the time. My stomach just never felt right. I wonder sometimes if this is the way it is for her. It makes me ache to think about it. I don’t know if she feels that way all of the time, but I know that she complains about her stomach a lot, despite taking 4 different drugs daily to help. I remember how at the end of three months of constant indigestion and nausea, I felt worn down by it, like it would never end. I wonder if she feels that way, too, when she whines about it in a way that makes John and I want to tell her to “buck up.”

I woke this morning, after dreaming again about the chemo, wishing I could take some, just to see how she felt. To know how bad it hurt so I could empathize better and be a better caretaker. Tanner is a drama queen in all senses of the word; it is just a part of her huge personality and it is sometimes difficult to separate drama from real pain when you’re dealing with her. But, today, there’s no question. She just feels bad. You can feel it and you can see it on her face. Tonight, at bedtime, she asked, “You got any meds for me?” Meds, seriously. Sadly, I have to tell her no, I’ve given her all I can give. I tell her to go to sleep and she won’t feel it anymore. I leave the room with her asleep, or so I think. She is back out of her room in minutes; she has to go to the bathroom… again. She tells John, “As soon as you can give me some meds, you bring them… all night. Okay, Dad?” We promise her we will.

I wish I could take that chemo so I would know what she felt like; but even more I just wish I could take it for her… so she wouldn’t have to.

Love,
Beth

P.S. This is my public shout out to my husband, without whom I could not endure this. He is probably one of the only people that I tell when I’ve really had it, and, no matter how overwhelmed he is as well, he always comes to my rescue. Tonight, he picked up groceries on the way home so I wouldn’t have to go out tonight to do it… and brought me Ben & Jerry’s. Now, that’s a man I could still love with all my heart after 10 years. Thanks, Baby; I don’t deserve you.

Three Little Girls in One Big Arena

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Leah, Tanner and Gracie

Leah, Tanner and Gracie

September 13, 2009 I sat in the arena last night with my daughter in my lap, tired as only a six-year-old up 2 hours past her bedtime can be, but still singing along with Taylor Swift and loving every minute of it. I thought how there were thousands, maybe ten thousand, little girls in that arena who were lucky to be at that concert. But, none were so lucky as my little girl, for whom being able to go to a concert was a small miracle in the midst of four long months of limitations. I admit, I teared up, but she never knew it. I wanted only happy moments for her that night. And, we had them.

Some of my favorites…

–The three little girls, squeezed (car seats and all) into the back seat of my van, Taylor Swift blasting on the stereo, while we moms covered our ears as they sang, screamed and laughed their way to Nashville.

–Leah turning to me after Taylor Swift sang her first song and very seriously saying, “Miss Beth, we will stay for one or two more songs, then we will need to go home because it is way past our bedtime.” (Sorry, Leah, we stayed a lot longer than that.)

–The girls up on the front row of the suite dancing and twirling their glow sticks for all they were worth while Kellie Pickler performed.

–Tanner insisting, even after having fallen asleep briefly a few times, on us staying until Taylor sang “Love Story.” Thanks, T, it was worth it!

–Gracie, up on her feet singing all the words to “Love Story,” when only 10 minutes before she had been sound asleep in her Mama’s lap.

–Girl time not only for the little girls, but the big ones. Anna Lynn and Shelley are the kind of friends that show up at the Emergency Room at midnight on a school night because there might be something they could do to help. And, because they know what it‘s like to be a mom and can imagine what it would be like to be terrified that your child won‘t make it. They’re also the kind of friends that quietly organize meals and come by to take care of Jake when I need it. I’m glad I could do some small thing to say thanks.

–Meeting the oncology nurses from Centennial and Leigh Stamps and her friends, who made up the other two “Light the Night” teams that won tickets to the concert. These great ladies raised money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, not because they have a personal stake in it, as we do, but because they saw a need and are the kind of people who take action when they see an opportunity to help.

We all had a great time, even the Moms. It was a good show and the first concert for all three little girls. They were exhausted when we arrived home at 11 pm, but it was worth it.

And when I got home,
‘fore I said, Amen,
Asking God if He
Could play it again.(Taylor Swift, Our Song)

Love,
Beth

Big, Exciting News!!!

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One, happy little girl

One, happy little girl

September 12, 2009 Two HUGE things have happened to us in the last few days. One is that Tanner got to have a salad. I know, this doesn’t seem like a huge thing… especially for a six-year-old… but I had promised Tanner that the next time her counts were high, I would thoroughly wash some lettuce and make her a salad. She was in salad and crouton heaven.

The other is that we won 6 tickets to the Taylor Swift concert tonight from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and the clinic said Tanner could go!!!! We raised the second highest amount of money for Tanner’s Light the Night team during a one week period and will sit in a suite with the other two winning teams. Tanner is SOOOOOOO excited!

When I first got the call about the tickets from Robin Embry, who is coordinating Tanner’s team, I thought, “Oh no, here is another cruel irony. We raise all this money in Tanner’s name and then she can’t go to the concert. There‘s no way we can sit in the midst of all those people, even if we are in a suite.” All afternoon Thursday, I was just sick about it. It just seemed so unfair. That night, I had Bunco at my house and was telling the girls about it. Celia Whitler, who is the host of Tanner Time, said she might have a connection to help us find the most germ-free environment to watch the show from and to call her husband Ron in the morning and see what they could do. Maybe we find the best place to sit. I began to think maybe we could make it happen.

The next morning, I was at it with a vengeance. I decided to chase this thing down until I hit a total dead end. I called the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and talked with them and with my friend Ron. Everyone was trying to find a solution… was there an empty suite somewhere? Could she wear a mask and sit in the corner? Finally, later in the afternoon, I called the clinic at Vanderbilt to see what they would say about it. The nurse looked up Tanner’s chart and said, “Her counts are so high, I don’t see any reason she can’t go, and she doesn’t need a mask; it would just ruin it for her.”

Oh my Gosh!!!! Finally, a break! A providential aligning of the stars that combined high counts and an awesome opportunity to celebrate life! I called everyone that had been working on the problem with us to let them know we had success. I called two girlfriends of Tanner’s and invited them and their Mom’s to join us.

Last night, we pulled up some YouTube video of Taylor Swift in concert and said, “Wow, she puts on a cool concert; wouldn’t it be cool to go to that tomorrow night?” Tanner looked confused. “Wouldn’t it be cool to go to that with Leah and Gracie and their Mom’s tomorrow night?” “Are we?” she said, wide-eyed. “How?” After we explained it, she screamed in the way that only a six-year-old girl can, and we all did a happy dance.

This morning, Melissa from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society came by and delivered the tickets. We are so excited! Tanner has never been to a concert before and she LOVES Taylor Swift and Kelly Pickler, who is opening for Taylor. She’ll have to take a big nap this afternoon, since the concert doesn’t even start until her bedtime and I doubt we’ll make it for the whole thing, but it will still be an awesome experience. After having to miss so many things over the past few months, this is a welcome opportunity to do something special and forget about her limitations for once.

Thanks to all who have donated to Team Tanner; not only have you helped fund research for the cure of blood cancers, but you have helped create a very special night for our little girl. Thanks also to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society for the tickets and for being so gung-ho about helping Tanner be able to go. And, thanks to Franklin American Mortgage company, John’s employer, for making a call to the Sommet Center so we can park in the Arena Garage and avoid entering the building with all the crowds of people, which might be dangerous for Tanner.

People are so kind to rally around one little girl to make a special dream come true. And, good things… no wonderful things… can happen in the midst of great adversity.

Thanks, God. I owe you one.

Love,
Beth

A Little Magic

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September 6, 2009

“You would never know.”

That’s what my best friend Kim said tonight while we stood and watched Tanner roll down the hill at our other best friend Beth’s house. They have a huge yard and the kids love to run wildly through it, as only kids can.

There are many times when Tanner looks and seems completely normal that it’s easy to forget. She looked so happy, like any other kid, rolling down that hill. Climbing up it was a little difficult, but she did it.

Beth and Glenn had us all over for a cookout. The kids picked acorns off a tree and then we hid them like easter eggs in the yard for them to find. They planted some seeds in pots to grow carrots (we had to stop Tanner half way through because the dirt was getting all over her and it was probably not the best idea). They climbed on Glenn’s “tractor” and pretended to drive. They took turns singing into Aunt Beth’s real microphone — Tanner sang some Hannah Montana and Jake sang a little “Itsy bitsy spider” and “Old McDonald.”

After a great dinner, we toasted marshmallows over the cinders in the grill and made S’Mores. Then, they chased fireflies in the yard.

On the way home, Jake, who is never awake when it is dark outside, kept looking at the car lights and the sunset and saying, “Look at the colors Mommy.”

We arrived home tired and full and Tanner was asleep before she hit the pillow.

It was a perfect evening. Thanks Beth and Glenn for sharing a little magic with my kids.

Love,
Beth

This is Jake’s Day

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Jake's first day of school

Jake's first day of school

August 27, 2009 Recently, my hairdresser told me that my hair was falling out, likely due to stress. Tanner overheard me saying this to a friend and asked me tonight what stress meant. I told her it meant that I worried about things.

“What do you worry about?” she asked.

“I worry about you,” I said.

“Because I have leukemia,” she stated. She didn’t ask. She knows why I am worried about her.

“Yes,” I said. “And, I worry about Jake.”

“Why do you worry about Jake?” she asked. “He doesn’t have anything wrong with him.”

“I worry that Jake gets forgotten sometimes,” I said. “It’s hard for him, too, honey.”

Tanner looked puzzled.

“Tanner, did Jake get a present in the mail, today?” I asked. She shook her head. “It was his first day of school today, but it was also your clinic day. Do you think I got more calls and emails about his first day of school or about your counts today?”

“My counts,” she guessed, wide eyed. “Why did people do that? It was mean!” she said, concerned for her little brother.

“No, honey, it isn’t mean,” I said. “Leukemia is a pretty big deal and people want to know how you are doing, because they love you.”

“A bigger deal than a first day of school,” she said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “But, Jake’s first day of school is still a big deal, especially to him. And, I worry that even Daddy and I forget to make a big deal for his stuff sometimes.”

As I said this, I remembered how I had pulled Tanner’s old nap mat out from under a bed the night before and washed it for him to take to school this morning. I had searched for weeks online for that nap mat when I bought it for Tanner, trying to find exactly the right mat, but I had totally forgotten about getting one for Jake and decided at the last minute that Tanner’s hand-me-down would do.

This was a risky conversation I had blundered into; I wasn‘t at all sure I should be having it. I didn’t want Tanner to feel guilty about the situation, but I really thought she might be able to understand that this has been hard for Jake, too. So, I waited with baited breath to see how well she would get my point.

After a moment, she said with a smile, “I’m going to give him some of my presents tomorrow.”

Whew. She understood and she responded exactly as I had hoped she might. She loves Jake fervently and he is fast becoming her best friend. She actually already shares almost everything she is given with him. These days, they often have no one else to play with; and they find ways to cross the age gap between them and find common ground. And they fight, of course, but what siblings don’t?

So, today was Jake’s Day… his first day of school. He was a little clingy when we first walked in, but was fine once he saw a particularly appealing “monster twuck” and didn’t even say goodbye when I kissed the curls on the back of his little head. The note from his teacher at the end of the day said he was “happy and playful.” That’s my boy. He took a nap on his nap mat for the first time and told me the teacher said to “shhhh and cwose my eyes.“ He also told me that Seth was his new “fwiend.” His paper crayon taped to the floor to mark his spot for lining up is “bwue.” Big stuff.

This is Jake’s day. If you want to read about Tanner‘s clinic visit, you’ll have to note the postscript after my sign off. Today, Jake gets to be first.

Love,
Beth

P.S. Tanner had a great day at clinic today. Her neutraphil counts were up to 1300 from 610, so she was able to take both types of chemo today. They reduced her methotrexate dose by 20%, to see if she tolerates it better this time. She was a champ and I was really proud of how brave she has become with all of this. The two chemos really messed with her stomach, though, and we had to stop several times while driving home from the hospital and on the way to pick up Jake for restroom breaks. But, she felt pretty good at bedtime so I’m hopeful she’ll handle this round as well as she handled everything else.

Same last name?

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Tanner and Jake playing doctor in June

Tanner and Jake playing doctor in June

August 25, 2009 It’s amazing to watch a kid internalizing something that is happening to them and then see it show up in their play. I was in the kitchen cleaning up today and heard Jake yelling, “No, no, no!” at Tanner as she was saying, “You have to hold still or it will hurt!” This, in the world of a mother, is grounds for leaping the kitchen bar to see what is going on.

 

What I found was Jake, lying on the floor with his shirt unbuttoned, Tanner trying to hold him down as she “sliced” him with a pretend scalpel from the doctor kit. After convincing Tanner that she really shouldn’t hold her brother down for pretend medical procedures, I volunteered to let her operate on me instead.

Tanner proceeded, with great aplomb, to surgically implant a port-a-cath into my chest. Well, actually, it was a little closer to my belly-button, but why nitpick?

She then accessed my port with a pretend needle, and with a syringe, proceeded to “flush” my port and administer chemo. All the while, I was supposed to be asleep from “sleepy milk.”

Priceless… both for my memory bank and for Tanner’s mental health. In one playful moment, she turned the tables and became the one in control of all the medical procedures she has endured. Good for her.

This play mimics many of the things that happen to her each week at clinic or have happened to her during her hospital stay at diagnosis. The day after she was diagnosed, Tanner had a port-a-cath surgically implanted into her chest. This is a small, circular port with a silicone bubble on the top and a catheter line that runs from the port to an artery directly above her heart. When she needs anything you would normally receive or give through an IV (blood, medicine, chemo, etc.), she gets it through her port. It allows medicine to get through her body quickly and allows her more freedom than a central line which leaves the IV tubes hanging out of the child’s chest. Every week, when we go to clinic, the nurse sticks Tanner with an IV needle through her skin into her port. That’s how they draw blood to check her counts and how the administer her chemo. Luckily, there is a numbing cream we can put on her port before we go to the hospital that really cuts down on the pain of accessing (and deaccessing) the port.

Last week, she sat at a disconnected computer in my office while Jake and I played foosball and pretended to be the admitting clerk at the hospital. She told me to pretend I was in the ER and she was trying to find me a room. The conversation went something like this:

T: Mam, can you tell me your name?
B: Beth Page

T: What is your son’s name?
B: Jake

T: Same last name?
B: Uh, yes.

T: Your phone number area code first?
B: I give the number, trying not to laugh

T: I’ll need your insurance company
B: United Healthcare

T: And your group number
B: Pause (Now I am laughing and have to take a moment). 51645

T: Thank you, Mam. I’m looking for a room for you and your son. You don’t want to have to sleep in the ER; it’s very noisy here. Just give me a minute. (she types at the computer for a while). Guess what? I found you a room! You’re so lucky!

Too funny… and too awesome. This is exactly the type of thing that lets her process what has been happening to her and shows me that she is accepting this new normal. She is six, but she has it all figured out, thanks to a doctor’s kit and a somewhat willing brother as a patient.

Love,
Beth

The Energizer Bunny

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August 21, 2009 Just a quick post to say, again, that Tanner’s energy never ceases to amaze me. We went letterboxing this morning (thanks to all those sweet people who responded to last night’s post with plans for today… I have the best friends imaginable) with friends and rode bikes for a mile or more, then played on the playground. Tanner wanted to ride another trails that loops around the playground, but I was pooped from running after bikes and we went home. Had lunch, nap for Jake, quiet time for Tanner. Then, Tanner and I danced for a while. Then, she danced some more by herself. THEN, we went swimming at the Whitlers’… for two hours (sorry guys, we had no idea we were there that long). — (cruise director response: y’all can stay all day and all night anytime!)
She got a little sleepy in the car on the way home, but rebounded as we were eating and was chatty Cathy at bedtime.

HOW IN THE WORLD?!!! I was tired and I do not have leukemia.

One of my friends commented on Facebook that Tanner used to have the energy of 5 kids, so on chemo, she probably has the energy of 2. I think she’s right.

One funny side note… Yesterday I was broaching the dreaded task of trying to sort out all the medical bills and match them up with EOB’s. (May I just say, I will never again complain about our insurance premiums. Thank God and Franklin American Mortgage Company for good insurance, a good job and a supportive work environment.) Anyway, I came across a bill from Vanderbilt for the night that Tanner had to spend in the hospital because she had a fever. The charges were $8,700 (for ONE night), but our portion to pay was…. $1.00. That’s right, one dollar. Vanderbilt sent us a bill for one dollar! Too funny. I couldn’t bear to write a check for $1 and waste a stamp on it, so I paired it with another bill and wrote one check for both.

Again, thank God we have good insurance. I read somewhere that average treatment cost for a child with leukemia is over half of a million dollars. After looking at the charges thus far, I can easily believe it will get to that point. I don’t know how a family who is not as fortunate as we are can do this. The financial strain, on top of what you are already going through, must be unbearable.

I said I was going to make a quick update, and I’m already off on a tangent.

Never mind.

Love,
Beth

Stir Crazy

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August 20, 2009 It’s just been three days since we’ve been on these new precautions due to Tanner’s low counts, and already, we’re stir crazy. We like to go, go, go here at the Page house and it’s hard to find someplace to go right now. So, this morning, after our plans to go swimming had been foiled by the impending storms, we were verklempt. What do you do when you can’t really go anywhere?

We decided, after playing all morning at the house, to go out for a bike ride before lunch. Our neighborhood is right next door to Tanner’s Elementary school and you can see the playground from the end of street. Not thinking, I led my little troop on scooters and bikes down to the cul-de-sac which borders the school. Tanner and Jake were ahead of me, as I was on foot pulling a wagon. When I rounded the corner, Tanner was standing with her back to me, off her bike, facing the playground where I could hear schoolchildren shrieking and laughing. I watched her tiny shoulders droop and saw her bike helmet slide to the ground. She sunk to her knees and curled up, crying, but still staring at the playground, where she should have been playing.

I approached her slowly, kissed her head and pulled her into my lap. “I’m so sorry, T,” was all I could think to say. She cried for a little while, then got up, threw her helmet in anger and began running toward the playground. “I can go there if I want. I don’t care if I have leukemia!” she yelled. I just let her go, knowing she wouldn’t get far. She stopped and lay down in the grass, facedown.

Just then, a mother of one of Tanner’s classmates who had seen us from the parking lot approached… a welcome distraction. She chatted with Tanner, telling her how much her classmates missed her and were waiting for her return. Tanner warmed up gradually and was ready to show off her new “two-wheeler” bike riding skills when Jake fell and skinned his knee. Lots more crying. Then, Tanner, waving at our guest, yelled, “Watch me ride!” Right before the chain fell off of her bike. Seriously.

Are you there God, it’s me, Beth Page. I think you’ve forgotten about us down here. A girl could use a break now and then, you know?

Needless to say, we went home. Tanner crammed in the wagon, with her disabled bike resting precariously across the edge. Jake riding his scooter with his bloody knee, crying, “I’m bweeding.”

In the end, though, it turned out to be an okay day, despite a rocky start. We ate lunch, Jake took a nap, Tanner played a new computer game and did some homework. Later, we went back down to the cul-de-sac (yes, we are gluttons for punishment) after having repaired the bike and applying a large band-aid, and ended up flying a kite and playing on the school playground with neighbor kids.

Then, the ducks came back… for the fifth day. We didn’t have any bread this time (we’ve given away all we had to them on previous nights), but the neighbor had ritz crackers and we fed them those. Seems those duck have taken up residence.

The Vincristine continued it’s assault on Tanner’s legs today. She fell in the morning, saying her foot suddenly hurt and she could not walk on it. We rested for 5 minutes and it was okay, but it’s just evidence of the neuropathy that the Vincristine causes. I noticed her running in the field today; she is looking awkward again. And, at bedtime, her right leg failed her on the way up the stairs and she fell. She asked why she was having so much trouble on the stairs. “It’s the Vincristine,” was all I needed to say. She knows what that means, and although it frustrates her, she accepts it.

Even though what happened at the playground was sad this morning, it marked an improvement in her ability to articulate her emotional pain appropriately. Two weeks ago, that would have ended in a giant temper tantrum and I would have been the punching bag. Today, she threw a helmet in anger and let me hold her while she cried. A vast improvement that I think we can attribute to the play therapy. The therapist feels like she is working out some of her fears through play, and that just being able to express it in some way is a relief to her.

So, it’s two steps forward and one step back… or maybe the opposite today. We’re hoping for sunshine tomorrow so we can try swimming again in the morning.

Note to self: do not go to the cul-de-sac during school hours… just too painful.

Love,
Beth