Surrendering worries
She woke up with a sore neck.
How many simple and innocent things will afflict her over the course of her childhood and yet instantly Brian and I will think: cancer. We will always immediately fear the cancer is back. Growing pains, fever, lumps and bruises, swollen lymph nodes, paleness and fatigue, constipation, loss of appetite...all kids have these days. But when it happens to Charlotte, we will be instantly transported back to diagnosis. We will always compare her symptoms to what we understand relapse looks like. Today, we got a taste of this. And it tasted so awful. I hate this disease.
Her belly had been a bit distended since round 2 ended. Granted our doctors are on it. Granted we understand why that could happen. But every day I check it. It looked so much like it did when she became suddenly so sick last March. I feel it. I fret over it a little. It goes down some but I still wonder and eye it suspiciously. Brian and I both do. We talk about it. It couldn't be the cancer, right? This isn't a tumor growing back, is it? What the hell do we know?
Then, Monday she wakes complaining of neck pain. There is nothing we can see to indicate so we brush it aside. Well, nothing is truly brushed aside anymore but this complaint is more like filed away in the folder of "what does this mean? Let's keep an eye out and follow up". Then 2 days later she complained of it again after waking up from a nap. I go to feel the area of concern and she winces, immediately bursting into tears. My hand hits the nurse call button and I tell her what happened. She goes to find the doctor. Keep in mind: this is just a tender neck! Seriously. But keep in mind: Charlotte is the only child in this entire hospital getting this medication right now. The only one going through immunotherapy for Neuroblastoma at the current moment. Nothing is a nothing when you have cancer.
The doctors come. They come twice to examine. She has a pretty enlarged lymph node one one side of her neck now. Before they come I am tearing up because I am worried something is wrong. Where did this lump come from? Those of you who know me best know how I am a true worrier at heart so this doesn't suite me well because I already worry and go to extreme places even when the worry is unfounded. I worry she is relapsing. I call Brian to talk me down from my ledge. I worry because I have followed stories and I have seen how people have discovered relapse. I know lymph node involvement can suddenly appear and can indicate relapse.
The doctors think it's an infection. I am somewhat relieved but still unconvinced. Moments later she eats a tuna fish tortilla roll up and complains her throat hurts. I smile because this may mean maybe she is getting sick and it is an infection. Sore throats could mean good news. Drs come again and swab her throat. She's already on a broad IV antibiotic because of the fevers that accompany Immunotherapy but they want to culture to be sure she is covered by this medication depending on what they find. I finally breath a little deeper.
It probably IS an infection. Could even be a simple cold! I don't know if its psychosomatic but my throats starts to feel sore too. Maybe we are both getting sick. Maybe I need a serious chill pill but I don't know where to find one or how to swallow it. Brian and I are in this club now and I think we will always worry something unusual is up when there is a symptom of anything. I don't think I realized that until today.
We will always stop in our tracks. We are now programmed to jump to our worst fear. Logic plays no part even when we know things could be easily explained. Perhaps because we initially believed things were easily explained to begin with and then we felt betrayed by this notion because for Charlotte, they were not. She did not have some virus. She did not have some dietary issue. She did not have something simple. She had cancer. And it spread like a wild fire. I don't know if we will always live waiting for the ball to drop. But I can tell by how I reacted today, that our confidence truly rests on a frail glass shelf. It's teetering here and can be easily disturbed. What a strange place to live.
We believe she is getting better. We are resolute in our decisions. But one thing off balance, one questionable symptom, and I feel like the world could come crashing in at any given second. I suppose this is our world now. I suppose this is where we live. And I didn't realize this until today. Im one symptom away from crying for fear that Charlotte's cancer is back. Maybe God will help us in these times. Maybe this is really a good time to consciously turn towards him. I mean, the only other option is to turn away or to stand still, paralyzed, and who the hell would want to do that.
How many simple and innocent things will afflict her over the course of her childhood and yet instantly Brian and I will think: cancer. We will always immediately fear the cancer is back. Growing pains, fever, lumps and bruises, swollen lymph nodes, paleness and fatigue, constipation, loss of appetite...all kids have these days. But when it happens to Charlotte, we will be instantly transported back to diagnosis. We will always compare her symptoms to what we understand relapse looks like. Today, we got a taste of this. And it tasted so awful. I hate this disease.
Her belly had been a bit distended since round 2 ended. Granted our doctors are on it. Granted we understand why that could happen. But every day I check it. It looked so much like it did when she became suddenly so sick last March. I feel it. I fret over it a little. It goes down some but I still wonder and eye it suspiciously. Brian and I both do. We talk about it. It couldn't be the cancer, right? This isn't a tumor growing back, is it? What the hell do we know?
Then, Monday she wakes complaining of neck pain. There is nothing we can see to indicate so we brush it aside. Well, nothing is truly brushed aside anymore but this complaint is more like filed away in the folder of "what does this mean? Let's keep an eye out and follow up". Then 2 days later she complained of it again after waking up from a nap. I go to feel the area of concern and she winces, immediately bursting into tears. My hand hits the nurse call button and I tell her what happened. She goes to find the doctor. Keep in mind: this is just a tender neck! Seriously. But keep in mind: Charlotte is the only child in this entire hospital getting this medication right now. The only one going through immunotherapy for Neuroblastoma at the current moment. Nothing is a nothing when you have cancer.
The doctors come. They come twice to examine. She has a pretty enlarged lymph node one one side of her neck now. Before they come I am tearing up because I am worried something is wrong. Where did this lump come from? Those of you who know me best know how I am a true worrier at heart so this doesn't suite me well because I already worry and go to extreme places even when the worry is unfounded. I worry she is relapsing. I call Brian to talk me down from my ledge. I worry because I have followed stories and I have seen how people have discovered relapse. I know lymph node involvement can suddenly appear and can indicate relapse.
The doctors think it's an infection. I am somewhat relieved but still unconvinced. Moments later she eats a tuna fish tortilla roll up and complains her throat hurts. I smile because this may mean maybe she is getting sick and it is an infection. Sore throats could mean good news. Drs come again and swab her throat. She's already on a broad IV antibiotic because of the fevers that accompany Immunotherapy but they want to culture to be sure she is covered by this medication depending on what they find. I finally breath a little deeper.
It probably IS an infection. Could even be a simple cold! I don't know if its psychosomatic but my throats starts to feel sore too. Maybe we are both getting sick. Maybe I need a serious chill pill but I don't know where to find one or how to swallow it. Brian and I are in this club now and I think we will always worry something unusual is up when there is a symptom of anything. I don't think I realized that until today.
We will always stop in our tracks. We are now programmed to jump to our worst fear. Logic plays no part even when we know things could be easily explained. Perhaps because we initially believed things were easily explained to begin with and then we felt betrayed by this notion because for Charlotte, they were not. She did not have some virus. She did not have some dietary issue. She did not have something simple. She had cancer. And it spread like a wild fire. I don't know if we will always live waiting for the ball to drop. But I can tell by how I reacted today, that our confidence truly rests on a frail glass shelf. It's teetering here and can be easily disturbed. What a strange place to live.
We believe she is getting better. We are resolute in our decisions. But one thing off balance, one questionable symptom, and I feel like the world could come crashing in at any given second. I suppose this is our world now. I suppose this is where we live. And I didn't realize this until today. Im one symptom away from crying for fear that Charlotte's cancer is back. Maybe God will help us in these times. Maybe this is really a good time to consciously turn towards him. I mean, the only other option is to turn away or to stand still, paralyzed, and who the hell would want to do that.
Charlotte and her lovie, "Mimi"
Popsicles!
Playing with a favorite nurse, Kristy
Art is good therapy
Doing nails with the social worker, Lindsay
Music❤️
Our fish friends from the beginning are still here y'all! They keep swimming....
This IS a really good time to consciously turn towards God and also to fervently continue to cherish every moment of Life. Keep taking those deep breaths and giving and asking for as many HUGS as you can. Acceptance of our current reality is key to not getting paralyzed...as wobbly or fragile as it may feel.
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