Posted by Kimberly on March 11th, 2005 — Posted in Zen Baby, Oncology Odyssey
I’m shaking.
I think I might throw up. Again.
I’m too upset to cry.
We took Zen Baby down for her C-T Scan. Foolish, naieve (selfish) me, I thought it’d be a breeze. Far easier than *preparing* her for the scan, which involved withholding food, not allowing her to nurse for 5 hours, forcing her to drink something nasty (twice), and keeping an oxygen monitor on her toe (seriously, how does one keep an oxygen monitor on a pissed off one year old’s toe?).
But then we got to the suite. And Zen Baby was doing her part by falling asleep. But the nurse started quietly requesting an RT (respiratory tech) be called. Then more vigourously demanding it–only to be met with blank stares by the guys sitting behind the reception desk because they don’t actually work there. When the chick who does work there arrived, she got into a pissing match with my nurse. Who was trying to keep shit together and not freak out the mom, but wanted that RT stat.
But you see, I’m in a high stress profession where you need to converse on many layers. So I could read the tone, looks, body language (and the fact that by the end my nurse was shaking and looked near tears didn’t help).
So I kept it together. Got really freaked and did what I do, which is make a joke: “Should I pinch her?” (Zen Baby’s numbers were fine when pissed off). Got really freaked out when the nurse answered in all seriousness, “Yeah, let’s do that.” And did.
I watched, observed, actually reassured my nurse I thought she was doing a great job advocating for Zen Baby (how twisted is that? Did I ever mention that I was apologizing for being a bother while pushing Zen out???). Tried to keep the thought, “Oh God, my baby is dying in my arms” out of my head.
Failed.
Miserably.
Anyway, they blew oxygen in her nose, the number went back up (the problem being that when Zen Baby went to sleep, her o2 level dropped by at least 20 points while her heart rate remained the same, and since they’re not sure where the tumour is….badness) .
Oh, and the entire pediatric residency rotation answered the page to C-T. Running.
So, Zen Baby is having her C-T scan, and I’m freaking all of you out because I had to tell someone.
Sorry.
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Posted by Kimberly on March 11th, 2005 — Posted in Zen Baby, Oncology Odyssey
Yes, they’ve pretty much diagnosed the type of cancer, and no, I’m not going to tell you. I’m not trying to be coy; I thought long and hard about this last night. And the thing is, you have all been *so* WONDERFUL to me. But that temptation to google, and then to share what you’ve googled, can be a powerful thing. And I have a lot of people in my life googling right now. And a very large medical team I need to believe in. So I hope you understand and aren’t too offended.
Zen Baby has indeed inherited my “fighting spirit” as someone so delicately put it. She hates it here, and is not afraid to show it. She’s got very good pattern recognition skills, and freaks out whenever someone in scrubs is within a 2 foot radius. I say, “Good for her! Give ‘em hell kid!” And then of course I hold her down so they can poke her with pointy things.
It’s amazing how quickly your frame of reference shifts, and how the once unthinkable is routine because it has to be done. There will be a longer post about them at some point, but the nurses here are fabulous. They respect Zen Baby’s space, and don’t make me feel like I’m being ordered around. After one very frank conversation with a resident, no one talks to me like I’m stupid anymore, either.
Must go hold down the baby for unpleasantness (but, let’s remember, it’s for the greater good!). More later, I hope.
And what do you mean, “As well as can be expected”?!!?? I’m coping beautifully. I have not yet cursed anyone out, disowned god, thrown anything, or kicked anyone. And I’ve only collapsed into a weeping puking mass on the floor once.
Apparently I’m an overachiever at grief, too.
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Posted by Kimberly on March 10th, 2005 — Posted in Zen Baby, Kipple, Oncology Odyssey
Hi everyone. This is Kirsten. I just got off the phone with Kimberly, and she gave me permission to post an update for her, as she is going to be living at Children’s Hospital for the rest of the week.
Zen Baby has been admitted to hospital until at least the weekend, so that various tests can be performed. The diagnosis of what type of cancer has been made, but they still need to figure out a lot of other factors - what stage it’s at, what systems the tumour is affecting, etc. A biopsy is going to be performed, and the results of that won’t be in for about two weeks.
Kimberly is doing okay, as well as can be expected. She’s handling the tests one at a time, and she reports that the hospital staff have been simply wonderful. They’re kind, they’re willing to try new things to accommodate the comfort of both their patient and their patient’s mom, and they’re very supportive in general of the family unit as a whole. What a blessing that is, to have the medical staff, who aren’t required to have perfect bedside manner to work in their profession, to be so kind and compassionate. It’s an extra that really matters at a time like this.
Kimberly’s parents have stepped in and are taking good care of Diva Girl, who so far only knows that Zen Baby has a boo-boo in her tummy, and she gets to sleepover at Grandma and Grampa’s while mommy and her sister stay in the hospital for a few days.
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Posted by Kimberly on March 9th, 2005 — Posted in Zen Baby, Oncology Odyssey
To be honest/fair I’m probably more shellshocked than strong at this point.
To all of you who have included us in your prayers, I want to say “Thank you”. I appreciate it. Please don’t forget to include Diva Girl, though. She’s bigger, and I don’t talk about her so much because of that, but she’s just a little girl, and she’s going to need all the help she can get, too.
I *do* take comfort knowing you are all just a post away. In some ways, it’s easier that we’ve never met–it makes it easier to accept your support without making it ok for you. That probably sounds really selfish, but the first thing I’m learning is that, ironically, you spend a lot of time reassuring other people that it will be ok when you’re the centre of a health crisis. So some “no strings attached” support is really welcome. Which is not to say that I don’t savour and take strength from the support of people I *do* know.
God, you have all helped make a horrible day easier. And I am truly sorry that you must now be looking at your own little ones thinking, “There but for the grace of God….” Please don’t. This sucks. But shit happens. And it doesn’t mean it will happen to you.
I want to give a very public thank you to Kirsten. She put The Girl in the car for only the second time in her life in order to be there for me when I very selfishly called her up and answered her very cheerful “hello” with a sobbing “Zen Baby has cancer.” No warning. Nothing. And Kirsten (and her wonderful husband) stepped up and came right over to be with me. No questioning the logistics of newborn transport–which are not inconsiderable. Just instantaneous support. I am so blessed. Thanks. That meant so much. I’ve said it before, everyone needs that one friend you can call and just sob into the phone and they immediately put you first. Even when there’s really big stuff in their own life (She’s even more adorable, btw). Thanks for making your whole family that for me.
I also want to let you all know that Zen Baby seems fine. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t know. She’s her happy, active self. And I’m taking a lot of comfort in that tonight. I
.
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Posted by Kimberly on March 9th, 2005 — Posted in Zen Baby, Oncology Odyssey
I don’t have my usual sense of humour and witty, sarcastic charm going for me today. Let me tell you why: Zen Baby has cancer.
Yes.
I’ve detailed the FTT saga, and won’t go into it again. I thought we were done with scary medical stuff involving my baby. Apparently, we were just beginning.
Over the past month, I’ve noticed Zen Baby’s abdomen swelling and becoming rather taut. I pretty much put it down to her finally eating more and gaining weight (3 lb in 3 mo!), but was a little bugged by the tautness, so brought it to the DR. attention at the 12 mo visit. We had an ultrasound early this morning which, given how much she enjoys being touched by strangers *and* being restrained, was , um, unpleasant. But the techs were great.
And then I was told to call our DR. And I was told to come in now.
And then I was told Zen Baby has a 12 cm tumour in her abdomen and an appt with the pediatric oncologist tomorrow.
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Posted by Kimberly on March 1st, 2005 — Posted in The Ladies, Zen Baby, Kipple
In a few short hours, my baby will be one year old.
I remember the intense excitement I felt on the eve of Sabrina’s first birthday. I took the day off school, bailing on my practicum teaching assignment in favour of spending the day with my big girl. Presents were bought and wrapped far in advance. I couldn’t wait for the big day. I awoke with such a feeling of joy and accomplishment: One whole year, and the kid was still alive!!!
This time, I don’t need to assess my priorities and twist my schedule to be home for the big day–I’m on mat. leave. I gave Regan her sippy cup today (she needed one!), and I’m not going to bother wrapping the blocks. Don’t get me wrong–I’m thrilled that Regan is still alive after a year. That she’s a happy and thriving little girl. But that sense of relief–that a huge weight has been lifted–isn’t there this time.
But that may be because it was never there this time. With Sabrina, I was back at school in 3 weeks. With Regan, I’ve been home fulltime for almost a year and counting. It’s not no pressure, but it’s a different, easier to manage pressure.I worried all the time about Sabrina; if she slept past her schedule, I was sure she’d died in her crib. I have never once felt that about Regan, and not just because this time I’m a secure enough parent to co-sleep.
My best friend says I’m calmer this year. That I’ve mellowed. I think she’s right. Regan has slowed things down and made them easier. She’s encouraged me to be more myself, but in a way that leaves room for other people, too. She’s rounded the jagged edges. I won’t say they’re smooth–I don’t think I’d ever want them to be–but they aren’t as sharp as they used to be.
Sabrina stirred up my life in wondrous, exciting ways (and still does). Regan seems to settle it. It is still wondrous and exciting, but it’s not scary anymore.
With Sabrina, One was the milestone that said: “We survived.” Regan’s first birthday isn’t about survival. It’s about how we thrived this year.
With Sabrina, the feeling was one of relief. With Regan, it’s all about the anticipation.
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