by Sarah | Mar 31, 2011 | All About Denver, All About Kennedy, Cystic Fibrosis
The stopwatch was never ending.
Just a few weeks ago I lamented the never ending ticking of time.
Over four years of non-answers for two children, going on months for the latest.
I just wanted answers. One answer.
Today the stopwatch started beeping, signalling time up.
It sounded strangely like a ringing phone.
**
Yesterday we took Brandon for his “repeat sweat” test. It was to rule out error in the initial (low) abnormal score. Accounting for the test having an error and his numbers actually being in the normal range.
It was a formality.
Except, it stopped being a formality when the doctor’s office called us to give the results…instead of waiting for our call.
This time the numbers were different – but they were in the positive range.
Add in the ugly appearance of his lungs on the x-ray for December.
And the appearance of staph on his sputum culture.
And the odd result of his genetic test.
They’re calling it.
Brandon…
He has Cystic Fibrosis.
Which gives Angel’s odd course to diagnosis even more credence.
I asked for answers.
Now we have to figure out how to give answers to my 13 year old son.
Angel is growing up with it from the age of 1…to her it will be ‘normal’.
Brandon is a fully functioning, exceptionally brilliant young man…with a bad case of the worries.
His life today will not change…he’ll have more meds, and will get a chest compression vest/machine of his own.
But getting him to understand that.
To understand its not a death sentence.
That his life will be full…and probably very long.
Somehow we’ll make him understand.
Once we get our heads around it.
by Sarah | Mar 17, 2011 | All About Denver, All About Kennedy, Cystic Fibrosis
The seconds tick by.
Second by second.
Into minute by minute.
Into hour by hour.
Into days.
Into years.
4 years ago we were in the midst of a struggle for a diagnosis. The years of questions evolving from one stubborn cough. Four months later it came down to an unsure “most likely is” but “might not be” diagnosis of Cystic Fibrosis. (read the full story in parts: 1, 2, 3)
Last year in May we got the words from the pulmonologist that made Angel’s diagnosis “Absolute“. Because unless you have Cystic Fibrosis…you don’t get psuedomonas.
Then I got the brilliant idea to have Brandon tested. This spiraled into genetic testing for both Angel and Brandon.
The test results are in.
And still we have no answers.
They both have a defect on the CF gene.
Angel’s is more ‘severe’ than Brandon’s.
In either case the defect found is not a KNOWN strain of CF. It’s not a known defect…it’s on the gene…but it’s never been seen before.
The official word of the pulmonologist…the one we have trusted for 4 years…the words she’s calling it…the words she’s using…I want to have faith in them.
She says that how she reads it is this:
1. Angel has Cystic Fibrosis. As we have said for 4 years. The defect on her gene is not a recognized defect…but it is CF. It’s quite possible that this unusual defect will mean her CF will continue to be a milder version, we just don’t know.
2. Brandon has asthma. While he has a defect on the CF gene, also unrecognized, it seems more like he’s a carrier than an actual CF patient. He is to continue to see the pulm for asthma every six months and that is how we will continue.
3. Both of them need to go to a genetic counselor for a more in-depth appraisal of the results. So we can learn more about what it means for Brandon’s future & having children…so we can look more into the oddity of Angel’s defect.
I want to have faith in these words.
I want to have faith in the pulmonologist that has been with us on this whole confusing journey. That is the top in her field. That has guided us this far with an unwavering conviction in everything she says and does.
My faith is shaken.
Once again I find myself floundering in the unknown.
On a journey that I thought was decided. The path clear. The stopwatch clicked off.
Someone restarted that stopwatch.
The time is ticking away again.
The uncertainty dragging each second out until it feels like a day.
My faith in the doctors faltering.
My faith in the tests fading away.
Back into the murky waters of unsurity.
Is it CF? Or isn’t it?
All I have ever wanted for my children is answers.
One thing I have never received…
Is one 100% without a doubt pure, positive answer.
Not for Riley (we still don’t have a 100% on her, just a ‘likely’). Not for Angel (we thought we had it, but it was ripped away). Not for Brandon (not when he was little & not now).
Why is that so much to ask?
One answer.
I’ve lost faith that I will ever get that.
Just one answer.
Just one.
by Sarah | Mar 3, 2011 | All About Me, Crap, Cystic Fibrosis, Random, Special Needs, Writing
Dear Mother Nature:
I love you. With all my soul I do.
I beg of you. PLEASE stop with the wet, wet, wet springs (and it’s not even spring yet this year!!). Our poor crawlspace was so happy and dry until you get all deluge rain-storm happy the past few years.
I’ll gladly take more summers like last years incredibly hot one if it means we get a dry(ish) spring.
Thanks much.
XO
Me.
****
Dear Anthem,
You blow.
Denying Cystic Fibrosis meds is NOT COOL.
Eat shit.
Me.
*****
Dear Indiana,
I was so mean to you. I still am sometimes.
It’s not your fault, I suppose. You just happen to house a great deal of redneck twits. Though, per capita, not the greatest percentage of places I’ve lived.
Still, I apologize. You are a saving grace in this insurance Hell. Because of you, our Angel has what regular insurance seems to think she doesn’t need. So thank you and your CSHCS.
I love you a little more every day.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Me.
******
Dear Pandora,
I get it. Advertising is important.
That being said, I’m married. Showing me a BIG flash page of singles…not so much.
They weren’t even cute…
Except that bottom one…he’s pretty cute…one little problem…
Oh, Pandora. I KNOW him. He’s married. Cute. But very married. Where did this advertisment come from anyway?
Hugs…but you don’t get kisses,
Me.
****
Dear Top Chef,
LOVE the All Stars season.
Bring it back.
But this time make it fan favorites. And give me Kenny. I loved Kenny and he was gone FAR too fast.
XOXO,
Me.
*****
Dear Angel & Riley,
You two are driving your mama nuts.
Stop beating the living crap out of each other.
XO,
Your very tired mama.
***
Dear Characters,
I love you all.
To my two MC’s:
Keep running me ragged. But please leave room for the new ones. They aren’t as strong willed as you, they are far less developed. But I have to get to know them if I can ever tell their tale.
I promise, if you let me get to know them I’ll give you many long baths together while I’m busy writing the story of the new guys. Not like you need a tub. You’re happy with a crowd nearby…you and the thrill of getting caught.
Behave.
On second thought, don’t…you’re both far more fun misbehaving…
XOXOXOXOXO,
Me.
by Sarah | Feb 23, 2011 | All About Denver, All About Kennedy, Crap, Cystic Fibrosis
Answers.
For once.
A doctor that says…
“I know what it is.”
A doctor that says…
“I know what it’s not.”
No more tests.
No more specialists.
Just once.
For the questions to be done.
For five and a half years it’s been a never ending stream.
Never ending questions.
More specialists than can be counted on two hands.
Tests.
Hurry up – get this test done.
Now wait.
Wait.
Wait.
We have results.
But no answers.
More specialists.
More questions.
Retelling the tales over and again.
Just once.
Just once.
I want an answer.
by Sarah | Feb 10, 2011 | All About Me, Crap, Special Needs
Way back when this picture was taken I sure thought I was. (Picture credit goes to my mom who had the fancy camera way back then…in FILM *Gasp*)
Back, 11 years ago, when Brandon was only 2. When I only had the one. When my co-parent was my own parents. When the biggest problem I dealt with was chronic BM issues (yeah, he’ll kill me if he ever reads this). When he was cute and adorable and obedient and kind and polite.
When life was “easy”.
Now there are three.
There is school. Homework. Teachers. Doctors. Specialists. Special Medicines. Bills. Cleaning. THREE kids. Doctors. THREE kids. Quirks. Hospitals. Marriage. Home repairs. Car maintenance. Cleaning. THREE kids.
Oh, did I repeat myself once or twice? Yeah. I know.
I don’t want to use the term “bad mother”…because, you know…it’s such a debate trigger.
Sometimes, though. Sometimes I look at myself and I see that I’m not good at this.
I don’t have patience.
I don’t have answers.
I don’t do the things that you’re supposed to. I love to read to myself, but get bored reading to my kids (shameful, I know).
I don’t have patience.
I don’t check homework every day after school.
I always miss deadlines for snack week, permission slips, all those things.
I don’t have patience.
I don’t give my kids daily baths. Or every couple of days. (But in my defense, my baths were 1x/week)
I use the TV as a babysitter.
I’m online too much (I’m trying to do better…some days I do better than others).
I don’t have patience.
…..
Are we detecting a common theme?
Sometimes I wonder what part of my brain actually thought growing up that I would grow into this ‘perfect’ mom. I saw myself doing it all. Crafts, dinner, cleaning…the perfect little household.
My ‘perfect’ has redefined itself into something that feels far from perfect for me.
It’s a process.
I’m working on redefining myself as a mom.
To snap less. To breathe and have patience. To do more cleaning. More cooking. Making sure I’m more involved in what my kids are doing in school.
I want to feel like I’m good at being a mom. Like I DESERVE the title. EVERY day. Not just now & then.
by Sarah | Feb 7, 2011 | All About Molly, Autism
We chopped her hair off.
She had us worried.
Terrified.
She wasn’t eating.
Her hair was so thin. She was getting weaker.
We chopped her hair off.
Now…
She’s eating like a champ. (Almost) Everything we put in front of her.
Figures.