Sunday, December 27, 2009

An Emotional Rollercoaster


Now I really understand what that phrase means. I've never been a very openly emotional person. Not stoic, by any means - I can be quite empathetic and even sentimental when the situation calls for it. But since having children I've developed more fears than I ever thought possible - my own mortality never frightened me, but my children's mortality has had me in a perpetual state of nervousness for the past eight years. I may even be a bit overprotective, but hey, that's better than the opposite, right?

But now that the worst case scenario has struck, even I have succumbed to an overwhelming anxiety, a debilitating depression, all-out despair, borderline psychosis. I am not myself - my anxiety has taken me over. This is the first time I have ever felt the need for pharmaceutical assistance, and now I know what other people go through under these conditions. I've always been pretty good at self-medicating by more traditional methods when under duress and in need of calm, cool, rational thought, but those methods don't work when I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't keep from breaking down crying at the drop of a hat. Luckily the Ativan has seemed to help me keep an even keel. Welcome to THAT world, BeeDub, a world you never thought you'd experience.

Laura says I've been strong and am eager for treatment, which is true to some extent. But inside I'm more terrified than I have ever been in my life. She looks FINE! She's rarely in pain, she's happy-go-lucky and enjoying Christmas vacation and to look at her you'd never predict her precarious situation. Is this all really REAL?!?!?

Of course it is - denial won't help - I know what we need to do... We need to start the CURE, so why waste any time getting started? The biggest fear has been the fear of the unknown. We know a lot, now, about what to expect, but we don't know how Millie will respond, and what time at home and in hospital will be like on a daily basis. This will change and get better as time goes on.

I worry less about outcome - I have faith in modern medicine and the doctors, experts and specialists we have met. I know we will beat this. It would just be nice to say, "The tumor's totally localized! It's hasn't metastasized! Let's just do surgery and be done with it! We can monitor her for future tumors!" But that's not reality - reality is that technique usually results in relapses and spreading of the cancer to the point of inoperability.

I worry more about a treatment that is nearly as deadly as the condition itself. They say they know how to adjust it for a six-year-old's height and weight (the more common age of these sarcoma patients is around 10 or 11). But they say they've had children as young as infants not only survive but live a cancer-free life - the numbers are heavily in our favor. And I worry about the demoralizing aspect of all that hospital time. But perhaps I'm projecting - I HATE being in hospital (and have avoided it pretty well, knock on wood), but Millie will be surrounded with social workers to keep her entertained, two of whom she's already met and seems to like. There will also be other pediatric oncology patients and apparently a playroom where they can mingle. She's a very social little girl, and DVDs, games and books will make the time pass quickly. Her school teacher is already planning a light home study program and communication from her classmates in the form of cards, gifts and perhaps even teleconferencing!

She's also a very strong little girl, with her mother's eternal optimism, inner strength and sunny demeanor. And right around turning six she has shown a stubbornness, determination, and dare I say tenacity, that I think she can channel into getting through this ordeal with her head held high. And she has such a wealth of support from friends and family that it's almost overwhelming. The positive energy coming from you all is palpable, and is probably what has kept Laura and I as together as we've been. Tomorrow our journey begins, so keep that energy coming. Understand of course that while we dearly appreciate your phone calls and emails, please realize that we may not be able to reply in a timely manner. As treatment becomes more "routine" (as much as that can ever be the case) we will be able to schedule visits and that sort of thing. Until then, please know that each and every one of you and your support means so much to us... THAT in itself brings tears to my eyes.


5 comments:

  1. You can call me ANY time you need to, Man--please know that.

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  2. We are here for you guys. Anytime. Anything. Every bit of positive energy is going out to Millie and to you all. We love you guys, and know this will pass. And until it does, we are here.

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  3. Been thinking of you all non-stop... particularly today. Thank you so much for sharing so openly here. You have infinite love and light surrounding your family. xx, -Cecily

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  4. Hi. Thought of you all all day today. Lit a candle today in Millie's honor at the Mission in Carmel. Also said a prayer for her in the peaceful prayer garden at the Mission. We're all thinking of her and hope that today's surgery went well.
    Also, while reading through the recent blog posts I smiled when I saw the Christmas one because it somehow reminded me of when Griffin was born that very cold and SNOWY January so many years ago. I remember being so excited to meet him. One of the first babies of our close knit group of college girlfriends.
    Lots of thoughts going through my mind and I hope that all the warm wishes are making themselves felt by you all. You're on your way to the cure now....Big hug Birgit

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  5. Lots of love coming from Chicago! Hope today went ok and not too overwhelming and Millie had good stuff to keep her distracted and entertained. Please free to call anytime if you need someone to talk to, we are up late. Wish I could be there to give you all a big hug but guess this will have to do. Love the three of us. - Amy

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