Category Archives: cancer

Clinic Day #49

Posted on by
4

March 23, 2011

As clinic visits go, today’s was pretty smooth and easy. Tanner’s counts were high – 2,200—but they didn’t change her chemo. She has, we believe, a sinus infection, which could raise her counts as her body tries to fight it. If her counts remain high next month, they will raise her chemo levels above 100%, so hopefully her counts will come back down before then (seems weird to be wishing for low counts, but the name of this game is low, but not too low).

Tanner has been on antibiotics for two weeks now for the sinus infection with little improvement. We could suspect allergies since it is practically snowing Bradford Pear blossoms here, but allergy medication does not help her at all. So, we will continue on the antibiotics and try some prescription nasal spray as well.

After Tanner got her Vincristine (IV chemo), we went down to the food court for lunch. It was nice to not be in a hurry to get back to school (we’re on Spring Break this week). They had medical play today and both she and Jake just love getting a doll or stuffed animal to play doctor with. The doctor play you see at the hospital is definitely not your usual variety. Most kids just take temperatures and listen to hearts. But, “hospital” kids start IV lines and deliver oxygen through masks. Tanner hooked her doll up to an IV pole and carried it around.

We met a family during medical play that had two children both suffering from a bone disease that causes their bones to break very easily and stunts their growth. They were 7 and 8 and neither one any bigger than Jake. The mother said they have broken around 70 bones each and that the daughter is deaf in one ear because the tiny bones in her ear are broken. They come in every three months for a transfusion of medicine that strengthens their bones. I’m listening to this woman tell the story of these kids and realizing that they will never get better. She confirmed that they will always have this problem. I told her that Tanner has leukemia and that sometimes I feel lucky because at least she will (hopefully) get better and not have to endure any more treatment. She laughed and said every time she is in the infusion room she feels lucky because her even though her kids have a bone disease, at least it’s not as life threatening as cancer. We all count our blessings to our own beat, I guess.

It was a tough day for me. Every clinic visit seems to get a little harder lately. I’m tired of worrying and thinking about sick kids – mine and other people’s. This week hasn’t been such a great week for some local CKs.

Savannah, an 11-year-old with soft tissue cancer that I have been following through friends and on CaringBridge, died this week. She had battled this terrible disease for more than 5 years through 3 relapses and had finally run out of treatment options. We had seen Savannah several times in clinic and she stood out to me for her grace and poise. She and Lily were good friends.

We also saw a family in clinic today that we met early on in treatment. Thomas’ brother was an intern at John’s company and we connected with his Mom nearly 2 years ago in recovery while we both waited for our kids to awaken from sedation after lumbar punctures. Thomas has T-cell ALL, a more difficult to treat type of leukemia than B-cell ALL, which is what Tanner has. Thomas’ age, 16, and the fact that he is a boy, increases his risk, but he has done well on treatment. Now, however, he is having some worrisome symptoms that have doctors checking his bone marrow for relapse. I stood in the hall with his Mom and we hugged and cried a little before they headed down for the surgery. I’ve checked his caringbridge three times tonight hoping for good news, but nothing yet.

Another Vandy kid I follow, Cole, is not doing well either. He has the same type of leukemia that Tanner has, but had a central nervous system relapse last year and is undergoing an unbelievable chemo regimen. He has had unexplained high fevers for a week that has stumped everyone thus far.

Several weeks ago, at a Girl of the Year function, I met the Mom of a little girl named Samantha who died last year after a five-month battle with T-cell ALL, including a bone marrow transplant. She was 7 when she died, which is hard for me to hear, and her Mom, even though she was welling up talking about it, quickly assured me that her leukemia was very different than Tanner’s.

On the way home from clinic, we stopped for gas and I went in to buy some candy for the kids. As I was waiting in line to pay, a photo on the newsstand caught my eye. A little girl with a hat and a surgical mask on was surrounded by smiling girls at a party where they had announced her Make-A-Wish trip to Disney. I didn’t recognize this child, but turns out she is also from Franklin and has the same soft tissue cancer that just took Savannah’s life.

It’s just too much sometimes. It feels like cancer is everywhere and that it will never end. Treatment might end for Tanner in August, but the worry won’t go away. We’ll still go to clinic every month on pins and needles hoping that her bloodwork doesn’t show that the beast is back.

I’m tired of worrying. Of wondering if every little thing is actually a big thing. I’m tired of watching kids lose the battle. I’m tired of choking back the terror when I have to admit to myself that two relatively textbook years of chemo treatment can mean nothing in just one little moment.

Cancer, I hate you with a venom I did not think I possessed. Today you are winning the battle with me, but I have no intention of conceding the war.

Love,
Beth

Clinic Day #44

Posted on by
5

December 1, 2010

Tanner went in for her monthly clinic visit today to get Vincristine in her port. Her counts were high (too high, really) at 3,500. Dr. Mixan doesn’t know why, but per protocol, we will wait a few months to see if she comes back down before raising her chemo above 100%.

Tanner has been to clinic 5 times in the last month. During maintenance, we typically go once a month, but for counts checks, flu shot study and a fever, we happened to be there a lot last month. This morning, she just started to cry when I told her it was time to get dressed for clinic. I hugged her and told her I wished we didn’t have to go and helped her get dressed. We dropped Jake at Aunt Beth’s house and went to the hospital.

The clinic visit went very smoothly, but Tanner kept telling me the whole time that her stomach hurt and she didn’t think she could go back to school. Then, when I thought for a brief time she might make it back for recess, she rallied and was excited to go back. But, when we got in the car, I looked at the clock and there was no way to make it to recess. Tanner started yelling at me in this desperate voice, “Just drive really fast. Don’t stop for lunch. Just get me there… just GET ME THERE!”

I didn’t say a thing. What could I say? I knew it wasn’t just about recess. It was about missing things in general. Going to the hospital to get poked and get chemo while your brother spends a fun filled day at Aunt Beth’s house and your classmates get to go out for recess. Not for the first time, nor the only time. For the 60th or 70th time.

The car got very quiet and I could hear her sniffling in the back seat. I wanted to say something comforting, but I don’t know any more comforting words. I’m fresh out. “Don’t worry, we’ll just be doing this 20 more times or so for 9 more months and
THEN we’ll be done.” Yes, that would be cheerful.

Then, she told me she was sorry she yelled at me and asked me how much longer she would have to do this. “Nine months,” I said, quietly. She just began to cry and said, “I wish I was someone else.”

Again, no words of comfort. She had given up and so had I. It’s just too long sometimes. Too much behind us and too much ahead. She’s doing so well and I know I should be grateful, but I don’t feel that way lately. I just feel tired and ready to not worry about all of this.

I ended up letting her stay home the rest of the day. I just couldn’t muster up enough momminess to encourage her to go back. I’m sad for her, but in this numb kind of way where I seem paralyzed to do much to help.

I realize this post is a big downer, but if I’m being truthful, these days are just as much a part of the journey as the celebratory ones or the tragically sad ones. In between are these numb ones where caring about all of this seems like a lot to ask. Leukemia is an exhausting disease that could wear anyone down. I know we will make it to the end; even on a day like today I have no doubt of that. I know we are strong enough to endure. But, I also know that there will be battle scars that never heal as a result. For all of us. And some days, I mourn those scars and question why this had to happen at all.

Love,
Beth

I Come Home, Tanner Goes to the Hospital

Posted on by
1

November 17, 2010

As I was on my knees fastidiously de-radiating my friend, Kim’s house so I could go home to my family, John and Tanner were on their way to the hospital with a fever. The cough she had been fighting all week finally peaked and she was up to 102 degrees. John was able to skip the ER and go straight to clinic (much faster). Fortunately, her fever came down and her counts were high enough that they were able to come home after an IV round of Rocefin (a broad-range antibiotic).

She took a big nap yesterday afternoon, but was feeling fine by bedtime, despite some coughing during the night. We kept her home from school today, but we all went in for her Thanksgiving play and Thanksgiving lunch (I didn’t stay for lunch as I am still not clear to use regular non-throwaway utensils). The play was cute and she is feeling fine. I think she will be able to return to school tomorrow.

The bumped up chemo has done it’s job. Her neutraphils were at 1,150, which is about perfect for maintenance. Her hemoglobin and platelets, however, are holding strong, which is all great. Hopefully, they won’t drop any more and she can just stay at this perfect spot.

While she and John were at the hospital, they met some Titans – Mark Mariani (L) and Robert Johnson (R) – who were visiting kids in the infusion room. Tanner looks like a little sapling between two mighty oaks, huh?

I’m feeling just fine… a little tiny bit fatigued, but otherwise back to my normal self. I can be around the kids, but can’t touch them much. No more than 30 minutes of contact a day until the day after Thanksgiving. I get quick hugs to try to sustain me.

John’s Mom is on duty and has been a great help. She’ll get Jake to school tomorrow while I go into Vanderbilt for my body scan. This should tell us whether the cancer had spread anywhere beyond the thyroid. I have to lie still for an hour-and-a-half. Let’s hope I can listen to an ipod… otherwise it’s going to be a very long scan. Maybe I’ll nod off…

Speaking of nodding off…

Love,
Beth

On Its Way Out

Posted on by
3

I think the radiation is definitely on its way out. I feel much better today after several days of mild malaise and fatigue. Even stopped by the house today to pick up Domino and take him for a walk. The walk was tiring, but it felt good to get moving and be outside. I think my friend Kim is going to come home to find a permanent indention in her new sofa in the shape of my heiney. I’ve read two books and watched countless movies and even gotten a few (a very few) things done.

Mostly, I miss my family. John and the kids seem to be doing great, but I know it is unsettling for the kids to keep having me drop out of sight while I recover from the surgeries or now while I am hiding my glow from them. Tanner still doesn’t know I have cancer, but I think she is smart enough to figure out that it’s somewhat serious and it makes her anxious. But, mostly I think they just miss their mommy… and I miss them. Still, I think John has really enjoyed his time with them.

I’ll come home Tuesday. Even though I can’t touch the kids more than 30 minutes cumulatively each day, I can at least be around them by then and I can help. And, I can get hugs, even if they’re quick. That will feel good.

I go back to Vanderbilt Thursday for a body scan to see how effective the treatment has been and determine if the cancer had spread anywhere outside the thyroid. If it had, the cancerous tissue would have absorbed the radioactive iodine and it would show up on the scan. I think I have to lie still for 1 ½ hours (can you say, “Nap?”).

I ended my low iodine diet today at dinner time. John and the kids did a “drive by” and brought me Jets pizza, some candy and a cake in the shape of a turkey that says, “Glow, Mama, Glow.” I laughed out loud. Jake was so cute bringing me the candy. He put it on the ground and backed away from me and said, “You’re done with your diet!!!!” Sweet thing. It killed me not to be able to give him a big hug.

Tanner has her Annie callback tomorrow night. She seems to have gotten over her cold and cough pretty much, so I think her voice is back in singing form. I wish I could go so badly, but I’ll just have to get a report from Daddy.

Thanks for all the well wishes. People have been so nice… as always.

Love,
Beth

All Aglow

Posted on by
2

November 12, 2010

I’m aglow… with radiation! I’m sitting on a plastic tablecloth on my BFF Kim’s couch watching the Today show. It’s like a vacation as long as I forget why I’m here. I don’t feel really bad, but I don’t feel good either. I feel like I’ve been poisoned… go figure.

I’m still on the low iodine diet through Sunday to ensure the radioactive iodine absorbs into any remaining thyroid tissue as well as possible. So, Beth is coming over to make us hamburgers with homemade French fries and homemade ketchup. Yum! How does a girl thank friends like these? The thing is, I knew that they would take care of me… it’s just what we do for each other.

John and the kids dropped by last night and rang the doorbell and drove off before I could answer (This is affectionately referred to as the “Ding Dong Ditch” in the South). They left funny gifts the kids had picked out… a reindeer antler headband and a “Do Not Disturb” eye mask! Too funny!

Yesterday was surreal, but a little anticlimactic. No hazmat suit for the lady who gave me my RAI pills (I feel ripped off), just gloves. But, the pills themselves came in a space age looking metal canister. When she opened it, the metal was 2 inches thick and there was a very small indentation inside with a small plastic vial in it. The pills were in that vial and I had to take them without touching them (apparently it’s okay to touch them with the inside of your body, but not the outside!). Then, after I took them, a guy came and measured me from one foot and three feet away with a radiation detector to determine how radioactive I was. Apparently, everyone is different depending upon body mass (this is the one time it would have paid to have been more overweight than I am). Then, they write your contact precautions based on those measurements.

So, no closer than three feet from someone for me and six feet for kids or pregnant women for at least three days, but our doctor suggested we go seven days for that precaution. Even after that, I’m not allowed to have direct contact with the kids for more than 30 minutes a day for the next 16 days. Bummer. I’m going to miss cuddling with my babies so bad. But, I can get out more than I thought. No reason I can’t run to the video store or grocery during off hours when there aren’t a lot of people.

I feel like I’ve hijacked this blog… it is called Tanner Time, after all. So, here’s how Tanner’s doing. She’s having a somewhat hard time handling this extra chemo load. I think we had gotten spoiled being on 50% chemo for so long and now she’s on 100%. She missed school Monday and Wednesday. She just didn’t feel good. And, she’s fighting some kind of cold. Jake had a mild case of croup this week and missed school, so it’s been a little nuts this week.

Tanner auditioned for an orphan role in Annie last weekend and did so well. She has a callback this Monday and is so excited. It was a leap of faith for John and I to even let her try out because the rehearsal schedule will probably be a little tiring, but we just felt like it was something she wanted so badly that it was worth it. I was so proud of her for doing so well at the audition; she had just had that big dose of chemo and was on steroids, but she still got up there and gave it her best. Hope her cold clears up by then.

I think if nothing else, I am gaining a new respect for Tanner’s resilience. She has pointed out to me several times over the last few weeks that I am just like her – I can’t eat what I want, I have to stay away from people and I have a yucky taste in my mouth that changes the way food tastes. And, now I feel bad like she must have so often over the last year-and-a-half. I’m having a mini-dose of her life. Wow. I respect her even more. She doesn’t complain often and now I realize she really could. I have to say if I woke up one morning and felt like this, I would call in sick to work, but I think she goes to school like this some days. Strong kid, that girl of mine.

Thanks for all the well wishes; I’m doing just fine.

Love,
Beth

Telling It Like It Is

Posted on by
Reply

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?

Posted on by
3

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

Posted on by
3

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.

Finally… Some Good News

Posted on by
4

October 4, 2010

We’ve been anxiously awaiting the pathology report from my most recent surgery… and I mean anxiously. You see, we’ve gotten used to bad news… even come to expect it. I thought for sure, they were going to tell me my parathyroid glands were cancerous as well and we were going to have another surgery to take out those. Three surgeries in three months… I told John I was seriously going to cry if that happened… for the first time in a long time.

Today, we were pleasantly surprised! My pathology report was clear… no cancer at all in the right side of my thyroid… hallelujah! So, no more surgeries. I will go to the endocrinologist later this month to determine what the next steps are… maybe nothing… maybe radioactive iodine. But, we can handle that.

Score one for good news!

We had a fun weekend with the kids. Jake had a soccer game Saturday morning, then we took them to Toy Story on Ice. They had a ball. Then, Sunday, we took cupcakes to the sweet kids at church who had raised so much money for Team Tanner. I took the check from the church, along with some other checks people have given me, to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society today. Our total, to date, is $14,491. Ah-mazing!

The Light the Night Walk is this Thursday. Tanner’s clinic day is Wednesday. Sucks, but it just seems to work out that way. She’ll be on steroids for the walk and for Moore Miles, her school fundraiser, the next day. Don’t know how many laps she’ll be able to run with the steroids and IV chemo in her, but I’m willing to bet she will surprise me… she always does.

I gave up trying to make them be serious for the picture!

This picture serves as a special thank you to everyone who sent in poptops for Tanner. We received several packages of poptops; Tanner and Jake are so excited by how many we now have. We’ll take them to church this week and put them in the jar for the Ronald McDonald House. Can’t imagine the extra burden of having to be away from home for this treatment. Thank God we live so close to Vanderbilt Children’s.

So much good news… feels so good.

Love,
Beth

WE DID IIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

Posted on by
Reply

September 21, 2010

Oh, you wonderful people… with a little more than 2 weeks to go, we have officially surpassed our Light the Night goal of $10,000!!!!!! Oh my gosh!!!! As of this writing, we have $10,185!!!!

We are so thrilled to be making this contribution toward hunting down this vile disease and finding a way to make it go away for good!!! A way that doesn’t hurt so much, doesn’t take so much, and doesn’t take so long. A way that works for all forms of blood cancers, not just a few. A way that offers hope where there is currently little.

But, we’re not stopping here! Let’s see how far we can go. Let’s see how big of a difference we can make. We still have our church’s Light the Night walk for the kids on Sunday the 26th, for example. So, we know we’re not stopping at $10,000.

If you need more information to decide whether this is a cause toward which you would want to dedicate some of your charitable giving, there is a Leukemia and Lymphoma Society video on YouTube that would be worth watching. It is a good overview of the nationwide event with personal stories from survivors and those who are walking in honor of those who didn’t make it. Last year’s Team Tanner is all over the video. Look for signs with Tanner’s picture, our Team Tanner banner carried by Keith and Leslie, and a shot of the whole team grouped around Tanner’s wagon. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Df4a9XV8rBk It really is such an uplifting, special event.

Tanner’s story from last year’s walk is also on the LLS Website. Tanner was extremely sick the day of Light the Night. She had endured four types of chemo that day and we pulled her in a wagon because she was too weak to walk. Her strong spirit was intact, though, and she insisted on coming. You can read her story at http://www.lightthenight.org/tn/localchapter/patients.

Go Jake, go!

We had a great weekend with Jake’s soccer game on Saturday and Tanner singing in church on Sunday. Jake LOVES soccer! After a rocky start (he pulled the goal down on top of himself and spent a considerable amount of time crying about it instead of playing), he did super and looked so proud of himself and happy playing. It was great for us all to be there, cheering him on and for him to have the spotlight.

Making a friend

I’m feeling stronger every day. I’m pretty much back to my day-to-day activities at this point with the exception of not being able to lift anything heavy (including Jake) or doing any strenuous housework. I have an appointment at the end of October to find out if I will need the radioactive iodine therapy, and won’t know if my parathyroid came back clean for another week or so. So far, so good.

Thank you for all the well wishes, kind thoughts, prayers and meals this past week. I have said it often, but I will say it again… you do not walk through a year like we’ve just had alone. You would wither up and blow away. You are carried by the kindness of those you love, those you know and even those you don’t know. Never underestimate the power of even the smallest of kindnesses. They make life bearable when everything else says otherwise.

We are blessed amidst our difficulty.

Love,
Beth