Yet Again, I’m Blogging About Mental Health

Today is Mental Health Month Blog Day. Mental health – and illness – is a topic of great importance to me and something I’ve written about before. It’s importance has only grown as I’ve gotten older. My experiences with mental illness have led me to get involved in helping others through sites like Band Back Together and I try to speak about my experiences openly and honestly whenever possible.

Did you know that a quarter of Americans experience a diagnosable mental health disorder every year? It’s highly likely that you or someone you know (or SEVERAL someones you know!) is dealing with mental illness. And yet, “research published in the Journal of Health and Social Behavior (Vol. 41, No. 2) finds that 68% of Americans do not want someone with a mental illness marrying into their family and 58% do not want people with mental illness in their workplaces.”

Whaaaat??

This is why it’s important to talk about mental health!

I'm Blogging for Mental Health.

I was diagnosed at age 15 with depression after I read an article in a magazine. Mental illness runs in my family – my dad, my mom, my brother, my grandmother, and cousins have been diagnosed with various problems – but I was one of the first to receive a diagnosis and treatment. Once I was diagnosed, a number of my family members realized they struggled with the same issues as I did and sought help. Our family life improved drastically after we got help.

Getting help was the best thing I ever did – for me and for my whole family.

I thought I knew everything I needed to know about depression by the time Jack was born, over 10 years after I was initially diagnosed, but then I experienced Postpartum Depression and PTSD reared its ugly head. I threw myself into therapy once again, this time taking a multi-pronged approach with group therapy, skills building classes, and individual therapy along with medication. I went through a variety of these intense therapies for about four years before I felt like I could take a break.

Treatment has been tremendously helpful. In many ways, I am a different person than I was before that very intense therapy. I grew up with so much trauma and while that is common, it’s not easy to cope with. I came up with some very creative ways of coping but the coping didn’t end when the traumas did. And because I was so busy coping, I wasn’t living.

But treatment alone would not have done it for me. I needed community. I needed friends and family. And as difficult as it was to reach out, I did. And my friends and family kept me going throughout my treatment.

Now my son struggles to cope with the challenges in his young life, partly due to genetics and partly due to his experiences with cancer. I am especially thankful these days that I took the time to help myself! I am strong enough now to help him. I can tell him that it’s okay to be sad and that he doesn’t have to just CHEER UP and GET OVER IT. I can help him grieve and move on so that his feelings won’t haunt him for years and years. And I can show him how to ask for help from family and the medical community.

He doesn’t have to be alone.

It is my hope that – eventually – no one will have to go through mental illness alone. Mental illness was something I struggled with by myself for a long time and it wasn’t until I got help from others that I truly started to find healing. It was 100% worth it.

I encourage you all to share your experiences and to reach out to others – whether you are the one struggling or you know someone else who is. Even if the results are small, they make a difference and can change a life.

I Hate Cancer

I hate that it turns my affable little boy into a wild animal who growls and beats on everything in site.

I hate that a temperature of 99 degrees leaves me worrying that he is getting sick. I mean, it’s elevated by .04 degrees! That should mean nothing!

I hate that my heart breaks anew on a regular basis. Today it happened when Jack melted down for no real reason, then told me about his friend’s brother who got cancer in “a place we don’t talk about” (he pointed to his genitals). That is so SCARY for a little boy!

I hate that much of our quality time has been taken up by dressing changes and medication and doctor appointments and blood tests.

I hate that my own health has suffered, as well.

I hate that we don’t know what’s going on in Jack’s body, that we have to blindly trust that the medications are working.

I hate the fact that all the immunizations he had may be wiped out.

I hate that we have to deal with school and work when what we really need is a mental health day (week/month/year).

Much to my surprise, I hate that Jack doesn’t energetically pop out of bed on his own at 7am like he used to.

I hate that I have to give my child poison and make him feel even worse and risk damaging his vital organs.

I hate that I have to be strong for him when all I want to do is hide under the covers and cry.

I hate that I can’t wrap my brain around money because of all the stress…and I hate the credit card debt that has resulted.

I hate being so sapped and bone tired all the time.

I hate that I no longer have the time or energy to devote to friendships and family members and taking more than decent care of myself.

I hate that cancer is on my mind ALL.THE.TIME.

I hate the constant pull to just give up – that I can’t possibly listen to even a little bit.

Cancer is bullshit and I hate it. A lot.

Walking For Wishes

One of the hardest parts about this portion of the cancer journey is the lack of attainable milestones. There are three phases to Jack’s treatment regimen, and we’re in the third and longest portion – Maintenance. While Maintenance is supposed to be the least intense phase because the treatments are more spread out, they stretch out across two and a half years. Jack started Maintenance in October 2012, so our next milestone is…

March 15, 2015.

That’s a long way off. Right now it feels like the end of treatment will never come. It seems like we have an endless number of doctor appointments, medications, procedures, blood draws, and dressing changes ahead of us. And through March 2015 we’ll surely worry about fevers and infections and side effects and fatigue and keeping our jobs and paying bills.

Rather than focusing on the depressing difficulties ahead, we distract ourselves. One way to do that is to create other things to look forward to, which Jack has done through the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Last year he met with the Bay Area chapter of Make-A-Wish and submitted his wish to meet Lady Gaga (go check out his video!). We’ve been patiently waiting for his turn since.

Recently Lady Gaga had to cancel her tour due to her own health challenges. Not only are we sad to hear that she is having health problems, but we are bummed that the granting of Jack’s wish – a milestone we were looking forward to – will be delayed, as well. That wish means a lot to our whole family. It means hope and inspiration and excitement and happiness and light in the dark. It means some manner of relief, which is difficult to be found during a cancer battle no matter how many people offer support. I’m sure you can understand why we are a bit fixated on it.

With Jack’s wish being delayed and new waves of exhaustion settling upon us, we decided to distract and rally ourselves with a new goal: the East Bay Walk For Wishes. The Walk For Wishes is a 5k walk that raises money for the Make-a-Wish Foundation. The East Bay Area chapter hopes to raise enough funds to grant wishes to sixteen children – a total of $120,000.

Our team is called Jack’s Juggernauts and we are (at the moment) eleven people strong! Our team aims to raise $7,500, which is the average cost of ONE child’s wish. My personal goal is to get to $1500 and right now I’m only a little over $400 away from that. I know some very generous people!

Many of you have just finished your taxes and are either getting back refunds or bemoaning your tax bill. Either way – you can do yourself a favor for next year and get a tax deduction by donating to our walk. You don’t have to itemize for donations to count and, in many cases, your employer will match your donation.

If you would like to help us out in our efforts to rally our family and help out kids who are facing life-threatening medical conditions, please donate. Any amount helps.

Support Jack's Juggernauts!

Better Safe Than Sorry

Jack has missed a ton of school lately. So it goes for the kid with Leukemia, right?

The week before last, which was his Spring Break, Jack spiked a slight fever and was diagnosed with an ear infection and ruptured eardrum. This happened the day before we were all due to fly to Maryland to help out my sister’s family with their new baby. Jack ended up staying behind with his dad and step-mom while David and I flew out to Maryland. We were heartbroken that Jack couldn’t come with us. It felt wrong to go without him but ultimately we figured out we wouldn’t likely be able to all go if we postponed anyway. And babies are only new for so long!

Jack’s ANC (the measurement of his immune system’s ability to fight off infection) was on a steady decline due to the infection. He was borderline neutropenic (551 – the neutropenic threshold is an ANC of 500) on Wednesday and very low energy with sweats, so I made a judgment call to keep him home.

So he missed most of last week and he’s only been to school one day this week. He’s finished with his antibiotics and ear drops but on various days has woken up complaining of aches and pains or, on Monday, feeling “like I have disgusting liquid going up and down my spine.” I have no idea what that means but it sounds crummy!

He had his monthly clinic appointment on Monday afternoon; he had an exam, a chemo infusion and blood drawn for labs. His ANC had rallied to over 1,000 and the doctor confirmed that his ear was healing. Yay!

Yesterday he went to school, but he’s out again today due to stomach pain, an earache (in the other ear!) and a “watery throat feeling.” (Can you imagine calling into work with that excuse?) It seems he’s sickly more often now, despite having come through last year with flying colors. Perhaps it’s the accumulation of over a year of treatment?

Jack usually doesn’t ask to stay home; instead, I’ll overhear some “ow”s or see him clutching his side or notice that he is getting overly frustrated about something small like putting his arm through the sleeve of his jacket. Then I ask him what’s going on and it’s like pulling teeth to get that info out of him, particularly if it’s anything related to the bathroom – he is so incredibly embarrassed to talk about that. In fact, he asks me to forget it was even mentioned! So I assess his symptoms and determine if there are any medicines he can take – tylenol, claritin, tums, etc… Sometimes, like today, I ask if he wants to try to go to school and see if the medicines kick in and he feels better (sometimes distraction is the key!). In the past we’ve tried just taking him to school but a couple times ended up turning around halfway there anyway so that he could go home and throw up… He rarely has fevers so there is not a very clear indicator of whether he should stay home.

Even more confusing is the fact that Jack is like the opposite of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Hell, he barely mentioned his ear bothering him before he was diagnosed with a ruptured eardrum! The kid seems to have a high tolerance for pain. (I’m pretty sure he gets that from me. The day I got a concussion and still considered whether I could make it to work comes to mind…)

Sometimes Jack stays home and feels better within an hour or two. Most of the time he’s mildly ill and just needs extra rest. Rarely does he actually have an actual illness that requires quarantine. So it’s fairly often that I struggle with the idea that we’re jumping the gun on keeping him home.

When your kid has a life-threatening illness, though, you pretty much live and breathe the motto “better safe than sorry.”

Luckily, as noted in the recent 504 meeting with the school, he’s doing great at keeping up in school. He’s getting 100% on his tests and assignments. The biggest problem with him missing school is the stress it causes him – despite how well he’s doing, he worries a lot about falling behind. He’s such a worrywart!

Despite feeling under the weather, Jack worked on some schoolwork his teacher sent home and finished four pages at home today. At the very least, his willingness to do the schoolwork reassures me that he’s not trying to play hooky in some elaborate reverse psychology scheme. Hopefully I’ll have a few more years (and we’ll have cancer out of the way!) before he pulls something like that.

Leukemia, Section 504, and Education Planning

I met with Jack’s first grade teacher, the school principal, and the district nurse yesterday to discuss a 504 assessment for Jack. If you aren’t familiar, Section 504 is part of the Rehabilitation Act that protects students with disabilities. Since Leukemia is a chronic, life-threatening illness that impacts his learning, working, and performance of manual tasks, he qualifies as disabled. Once a 504 assessment is made and it’s determined that a student qualifies, an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) is typically created to address the student’s needs in school.

Obviously, it’s taken me a while to get in gear and ask for this. The irony of requesting this assessment now is that Jack has caught up to his peers in most areas of concern since he started back to school in October. With that said, he is failing Physical Education, missing quite a bit of school, and his self-esteem and confidence are low. His stress level is difficult to manage even on a good day.

I was nervous going into the meeting. Not only am I still getting used to being an advocate for another person – a person whose needs have changed dramatically in the last year – but I’ve also read complaints about parents’ frustrating experiences with schools when enacting 504. I worried that I might get pushback from the school because Jack really is performing well. Thankfully, the school officials were all very understanding. I feel like we are off to a good start in helping to get Jack some relief.

In our hour-long meeting, I summarized Jack’s medication and treatment routines, explained how his health and side effects of treatment can impact him on any given day, and shared my concerns related to the challenges these things present to his education. Mainly it boils down to the fact that Jack puts forth so much additional effort in order to meet standards because of these challenges that it has compromised his emotional health and feelings about school.

We recorded the following challenges that impact Jack’s ability to learn:

  • Sensitivity to temperature changes
  • Bone and joint pain, soreness
  • Catheter in chest
  • Lowered muscle definition
  • Difficulty with coordination
  • Delayed reflexes
  • Shortness of breath
  • Dizziness
  • Weakness/fatigue
  • Attention/focus impacted by chemo treatment levels
  • Monthly steroid impacts mood and ability to cope with expectations
  • Medication taken at school, can get headache near time of receipt

Based on these things, the school will make accommodations for him to aid his learning in the following ways:

  • Additional time to complete assessments and assignments
  • Extra opportunities to repeat and explain information and directions
  • Extra time to respond to information and questions
  • Teacher will provide parents with work when child can’t attend school (to be completed if he feels well enough)
  • PE accommodations, such as alternate responsibilities/tasks
  • Teacher will remind Jack to eat and take snacks to accommodate his lack of appetite and slowness/distractibility when eating

This plan is a bit vague, but it should be enough to give the teachers the ability to customize the help they give Jack without making it a big production in front of his peers. I’m hoping that the additional understanding of Jack’s health issues from his teacher’s will take some of the pressure off of him and maybe that will even result in less self-injury! That’s my hope anyway.

I felt so relieved when I walked out of that office! I alternately wanted to cry and giggle hysterically. I didn’t have to push for any of this and it felt like I was part of a team that has Jack’s best interests at heart. There are people who have access to things that I don’t and they are going to help my child – we aren’t alone and we don’t have to spend tons of time blindly fumbling around the educational system.

Instead we can spend our time blindly fumbling our way through the parenting of our chronically ill kid! It may be a small victory but I will take it!

Slow and Steady

We’ve been doing a lot of prioritizing in Casa d’Ewok lately. Mainly we are doing the things we absolutely must do, along with some things that make us happy and that’s about it. We are trying to get rid of extra tasks so that we can focus on getting some of our sanity back.

It’s slow going. There are always things that are unpleasant and time-sensitive to do! And once I get started, I have a hard time stopping because I’m worried about losing momentum. But I’m getting a little better at it all the time.

This weekend we focused on resting when we could and trying to get our house in order. In the last six months, two dimmer switches have broken and one started buzzing, the handle on one of our toilets broke, the refrigerator door stopped closing properly, and our house has really started to look like the Tasmanian Devil lives there. So on Saturday David and I trekked over to OSH and stocked up on various home improvement items. Then I did some laundry and napped while David went about mowing the lawn and fixing the various broken things we’ve been patiently living with for months and months.

I learned that having a husband who can fix things is pretty goddamned awesome. And hot!

We also went over to our neighbor’s house for dinner and board games. It was great to socialize with people who live on our street and then stumble home on foot, tipsy but happy, and hit the hay before midnight! We love our neighborhood and neighbors!

David and I recently discussed the fact that more and more, we are becoming homebodies. 90% of our weekdays are now spent working, commuting, and caring for a child with chronic illness, so…the weekends mean a lot. We need that time together at home. This used to cause me a great deal of angst – I’m a terrible homemaker, yet I don’t like sitting at home on my ass, either. I’ve always needed to get out and do things and see people!

But now it’s different. I feel old and tired and in need of some very straightforward, repetitive, easy things. I don’t want to go anywhere or have obligations or spend money. I want to spend time with my husband and my son and I want to spend time with myself. I want to relax and live at my own pace.

So, I am doing that. And it feels good.

Cancer Creeps In

(c) hawmkoonstormbringer on Deviant Art

(c) hawmkoonstormbringer on Deviant Art

“In two years and one week we won’t have a million little spoons to wash,” David said to me this weekend. We use two to three spoons each day to give Jack his medication. We’re both looking forward to going through less spoons.

*

“I can’t lay down like normal because my back hurts. I have cancer and had a procedure today.”

I took Jack to the dentist yesterday, which was also a procedure day. I try to clump his appointments together so that I don’t miss as much work AND so that we can get the crappy stuff over with all at once. Unfortunately I failed to think this through entirely when booking the dentist appointment. Jack’s lower back was sore from the lumbar puncture he had in the morning, so laying down in a dentist’s chair was uncomfortable. I folded up my sweater as cushioning for his lower back.

We made special requests. We do this here and there to ease some of the things Jack goes through. Do you have toothpaste other than mint? Can you put a movie on other than Tangled (it stresses him out)?

Jack yowled the whole time he was getting his teeth cleaned. He went on and on about how awful the toothpaste (first ‘chocolate,’ then watermelon) tasted. I felt sorry for the other patients. I hoped Jack’s yowling didn’t scare them. I held Jack’s hand and asked him to try to be quieter. But when you’re a kid who chews chemo every day, your tolerance for other bad tasting things is lowered. What can you do?

*

“I think Bri doesn’t play with me anymore because she thinks my Broviac is gross,” Jack told me recently. I asked if the other kids at school knew about his Broviac and he said yes – he had showed them. Some kids are still mistakenly under the impression the tube comes out of his stomach and find that frightening.

*

Cancer is on my mind all the time. I wish it wasn’t that way but it pops up where I least expect it. We went for a playdate this weekend and I had planned to avoid the topic. But it’s pretty hard NOT to talk about something that permeates every part of your life. Still, I don’t want to be the person who brings down every conversation. Thankfully, I discovered that our hosts were familiar with the disease. The mom broached the topic and I followed suit.

She nodded sagely when I confessed that I feel like I can no longer chime in on a Facebook status when someone’s child is ill, particularly if the symptoms resemble those that Jack had when he was diagnosed. It’s as if I am the bringer of doom and gloom. I allow that little whisper of “it could be serious” to get through. I give credence to a parent’s worry for their child. People stop talking once I have weighed in.

It’s similar to what happened when I was getting a divorce. Suddenly I could see the worry in the eyes of the couples around me – ‘If they couldn’t make it work, what does that mean for us?’

If her child can get a life-threatening disease, can mine?

Everyone knows the answer. It’s harder to ignore the possibility when the evidence of it happening right out of the blue, with no warning at all, is standing right next to you.

Today I mailed out the request for a 504 assessment to Jack’s school district office. It feels strange. Jack is pretty gifted in many areas. He’s also fierce and determined; he’s caught up well with his peers after missing over six months of school. He can do the homework and he is getting 100% on math tests now.

But here I am asking for him to be considered disabled. It feels wrong.

This is the reason I’ve delayed broaching the topic with the school before now. My son, even with Leukemia, has so much compared to so many others. How can I ask for more? His performance would be normal for so many other kids. Most people can’t tell he has problems at all. Isn’t that good enough?

But it’s not about how much we have or how much others don’t. Jack is doing better than expected, but he is struggling a lot in order to do so. Yes, he’s completing his 12-14 pages of homework each week, but it takes him so much longer than it should and it wears on him. He is tired and moody and often feels like he isn’t living (although he uses different words to say so). It’s hard to learn and retain information when you are using up all your energy just to get through the work.

Hell, if I’m exhausted every day, how must he feel? His worries and his challenges are a bit different, but they are so much bigger than he is. He has too much to worry about for such a small guy.

For the last year I’ve been thinking we’ll get used to all this and life will go back to the way it was. I thought we’d eventually make ourselves believe that everything will be just as it would have been otherwise…that all the worry would ebb away. I’ve been waiting for the time when I could worry less about what is going on in Jack’s body and return to thinking about more frivolous things – or even important things like my relationships with friends and family.

But I’m starting to get it. We aren’t going to go back. We jumped the track and now find ourselves somewhere completely different. We have to move forward. I can’t care about many of the things I used to care about – I don’t have the capacity and I’m in a completely different place.

So, to my friends and family and even people I’ve yet to meet: I’m sorry. I know cancer is unpleasant and it might seem like I’m “all cancer all the time” now. I just can’t help it and I hope you’ll forgive me for that. I am still finding my way.

Cancer creeps into everything.

Progress In Inches

We’ve made some progress this week! Maybe things are getting better!

(I know – I should shoot myself now for saying that. It will all go to hell now that I’ve made a positive parenting-related comment!)

Jack saw his therapist on Monday. Together they brainstormed ideas for how to deal with anger (besides hurting himself). Jack used one of these methods last night – he drew a picture of the thing that had angered him, then ripped it up and taped it back together in a funky pattern. This seemed to give him a bit more control over the situation and he was happy that he “showed it.” I was proud of him!

He has seemed to be more open to talking about difficult subjects since Monday. Back when Jack was diagnosed, we were given an activity book that is supposed to help kids explore their emotions about their chronic illness. Jack has mostly refused to talk about cancer at all before now. But last night I said I had a neat workbook that I hoped he would try and suggested that it would be helpful with some of the frustration he’s been feeling. I sat next to him and flipped through the book, summarizing the different activities. When I mentioned “Things That Make Me Feel Alone,” Jack said he felt alone when his dad takes him to the redwoods and also on an empty street. :( He didn’t want to draw or write that down, though. I moved on and when I got to the one entitled “Things I Hate About The Hospital And Clinic,” he grabbed the packet and took off to the living room where his colored pencils were located. He drew a syringe, an elevator, a dressing change, and he wrote down ‘procedures’ because “I don’t know what they look like since I’m asleep.”

It was interesting that in thinking about it, he said there are several things that he doesn’t mind at all – i.e. the waiting, the examinations, the infusions. I made sure to point that out to him – it’s not all horrible even if it’s boring!

He went on to another page and drew the reactions of people around him when he was diagnosed. His picture showed indifference, the one of his parents showed worry, the doctor looked confident (“like ‘I know how to fix this!’”), and new people he met were nervous.

WOW. I was so relieved that he was actually expressing these things! Jack is a total people-pleaser and doesn’t want to talk about things that aren’t happy or cool because he doesn’t want anyone to be upset. It was part of the reason for the delay in realizing he had cancer – he won’t complain about something until it is unbearable. And even when he does complain, it’s understated – “my throat feels weird” becomes puke two minutes later. “My legs are floppy” means his legs are feeling weak and unsteady and he can’t walk well. The things going on with his body are generally the last thing on his mind (which can be good and bad).

We’ve been encouraging him since he was admitted to the hospital to complain more. I know that sounds strange! But his physicians would ask if he was having diarrhea or headaches or cloudy urine or tingling in his hands and we would have no idea. He’s king of “I’m fine!” But seriously, kid, we need to know if anything at all is bugging you because it can be a sign of something big!

Anyway, he’s getting better. He definitely complains more, although often still in a roundabout way. It’s weird when you have to suggest to your kid that he needs to eat or maybe he needs some allergy or headache medicine! And while I know what to look for to anticipate these things (hm, he’s very intent on coloring that dragon even though it’s lunch time and he is surely hungry!), others don’t and I’m not there all the time.

One thing he definitely hasn’t had trouble complaining about is clothing! It’s been an ongoing battle to find comfortable things for him and sometimes we lose the battle. However, I took him to buy (a third pair of) new shoes two nights ago and after trying nearly every pair in the store on, he was absolutely sure that some fur lined boots were The Ones. He freaking loves them. Yay! Now to find more pairs because those are not gonna last!

I’ve ordered socks without seams (they have them on Amazon!) and socks of various lengths and good quality in the hopes that we can get past his sock issue (also – he doesn’t feel right NOT wearing socks). And yesterday I ordered NINE pairs of shoes from Zappos that looked comfortable – some of which are fur-lined and others that are just fairly trim in design. I hope something works. Summer is coming and he’s not going to be able to wear those fur-lined boots forever. (I’ve tapped out my local resources for shoes – at least as far as how much I can afford!)

I’ve spent ungodly amounts of money on clothing for Jack this year. There should be a special charity for soft, comfortable clothing for kids with cancer!

David took Jack out for ice cream yesterday after he got 10 lilypads colored in on his behavior chart (he gets one each time he finishes homework, brushes his teeth without dawdling, and remembers to not maul the cat). We’re trying to reinforce the fact that he’s good and does good things because he’s WAY too hard on himself. The therapist said we should avoid charts with sad faces since he already focuses on his ‘bad’ behavior so much. Anyway, this seems to be working.

It’s a weird balancing act to parent such a sensitive kid. It’s nearly impossible to discipline him because he already punishes himself more than necessary! I’m not exactly a subtle person so it’s been challenging to dial back my reactions to some of the things he does – even a stern look will have him in tears in no time flat! Thank goodness I’m not more authoritarian – that would crush him!

The insight shared by you all has helped me, as well. I’ve learned that six year olds are very particular and kinda jerky. I’m trying to remember that his behavior is usually not a reflection of what I’m doing (or not doing) – it’s more about what he is feeling or trying not to feel. I can help guide him but I can’t fight all these battles for him.

So…progress for him AND me. I’ll take it!

The Beginning (My Submission For The LTYM Show)

I recently auditioned for the 2013 Listen To Your Mother show in San Francisco. I was not one of those chosen to join the cast for this year’s show (a mere 14 out of 54 auditioners), but I was happy just to audition and read my words aloud. Sometimes you don’t realize how powerful something is until you hear it out loud – and see others’ reactions to the words spoken. After reading my piece, the two reps for LTYM and I let out the breath we’d been holding. The reading was intense – just like the days described!

This is an edited version of the raw, harried one that was published over a year ago. I’m proud of how it turned out and wanted to share it even without the benefit of spoken word. I think that this story perfectly describes the ups and downs I experienced with Jack’s diagnosis.

The Beginning

It began when my 5-year-old son Jack seemed less energetic than usual. His temperature was slightly high, but he didn’t have a fever. He had aches in random parts of his body. Weirdest of all, he was becoming extremely frustrated with his favorite activity – Lego building – and seemed to be losing dexterity when trying to fit the pieces together.

While his symptoms were all minor and inconsistent, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. I booked a clinic appointment to get him checked out.

Naturally, Jack perked up the afternoon of the appointment. I even thought about canceling the visit but my husband encouraged me to keep it just to be safe. I felt a bit silly – he was probably just fighting off a cold! I was totally going to be dubbed a paranoid parent.

“Doctor, my son can’t put Legos together! I think he might be dying!”

During the exam, Jack was his smiley, goofy self and barely seemed sick at all. It figures, I thought.

The pediatrician suggested that Jack was probably fighting something off, and maybe he was also low on iron. If I wanted, I could give him iron supplements.

He then turned to leave the room but glanced back at Jack and paused… “I know he has a light complexion anyway, but does your son look paler than usual to you?” I said yes, definitely, and I pointed out the circles under his eyes, as well. The doctor then asked if we wanted to confirm anemia with a blood test. Sure, I said. I didn’t want to have to come back in a few days if Jack still had this weird bug or give him vitamins he might not really need.

Much to my surprise, Jack didn’t get a finger prick like I did when they tested my iron during pregnancy. Instead, several vials of blood were taken in the lab. I thought it was strange, but I was too busy trying to calm Jack’s fears about the needle to ask any questions. And by “calm Jack’s fears,” I really mean “hold him down bodily.”

Despite the traumatic blood draw, we went home feeling somewhat reassured. The doctor had even told me I could send Jack to school the next day.

The next morning the test results were online before I even got out of bed. I opened them immediately…

Okay, so, hm… low neutrophils? What are neutrophils?

Decreased platelets? What the heck does that mean? And what is WBC Other?? Jack’s been trying to tell me for years that he’s an alien. Maybe he was onto something!

Or maybe that is just what happens when someone has low iron or is fighting something off. His white blood cells are at the higher end. And what do red blood cells do again? That’s probably not good that those are low… Okay, lemme go look at the iron test…

Well…his iron looks great! Yay!

But…uh…what does that mean for that other stuff then?

I then did the absolute worst thing a parent can do when faced with a medical mystery – I started Googling. And I’m sure you could guess what kind of results I got – Dr. Google said it could be anything from a staph infection to Lupus … TO CANCER?! My heart in my throat, I shut my laptop and headed to the phone – I needed to talk to a doctor ASAP.

The doctor wasn’t in yet so I spent some agonizing time waiting for a call back. To be safe, I decided to keep Jack home from school. While I was thinking about calling in sick to work, the doctor called me back. He told me that Jack was anemic, but not due to low iron. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on, so he had to speak with a specialist. He said he’d call me back.

By this point, my anxiety was through the roof. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for the second callback. The doctor told me that Jack would be admitted for monitoring – probably overnight – and I needed to take him to Oakland where the pediatric specialists were located. Then he said something that really alarmed me:

“I’ll be watching Jack’s case closely, and here’s my direct extension in case you have any more questions…good luck.”

Oh God, I thought! This doesn’t happen! Doctors from big HMOs in San Francisco don’t give you their direct extensions! SHIT! Something is VERY wrong!

I hung up and buried my head in David’s chest to cry for a few minutes before taking an Ativan to control my panic. I then steeled myself to get Jack dressed and out the door without alarming him. I packed snacks, his magnedoodle, and a few books, and off we went.

Things are kind of a blur from there – stats and vitals were taken by a million doctors and nurses and interns. I think everyone except us knew what was going on with Jack – they just didn’t want to tell us until it was 100% confirmed. They did say that his blood test had caused some alarm because it appeared he had some odd cells and that could either mean they screwed up the test (which was the hope!) OR, if the test was accurate, he could have leukemia. They wanted to repeat the blood test to make sure.

At the end of that day, I was really hoping for Lyme Disease. My friend Becky said she was on Team Mono. I decided that would be okay – just please, NOT cancer. Please, something less dangerous than that.

The next day, it was confirmed that my son had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and we had a 3.5-year battle ahead of us.

It was truly just the beginning of our journey.

Everything Is Against Him

It’s been a hard week. And it’s only Wednesday.

Monday and Tuesday Jack was late to school. This is sadly too common. He is soooooo slow to get anything done and any hurrying I try to do just stresses him out and delays him further. The school office doesn’t blink anymore when we come in late. They also don’t mark his tardies as excused, though.

The biggest issue we’ve been fighting with is clothing. Monday he had trouble with pockets being too bulky. Tuesday it was that the waist of the pants was too loose. Sometimes things don’t feel good on his skin. Or they feel damp (when they are probably just cold). This pair of underwear goes up too high, or this shirt isn’t the one he feels like wearing today.

Today it was all about socks. They bunch up. They don’t fit right. They feel weird when he puts his shoes on. The heel is in the wrong spot. The seam bothers his toes.

His shoes are a whole other story. He wears one pair and the soles are badly worn down. I’ve bought two pairs in the last two weeks and he can’t stand to wear either of them because they are too tight or too uncomfortable. Even though he tried them on at the store and said they fit!

Homework hasn’t been easy. Jack hates to be corrected. We ask him if he’s put forth his best effort and he says no…so then he has to keep trying. And then he says he’s tired. Or he storms off into his room and slams the door and hides because he’s frustrated about having to think. He did this several times last night. I try to get him to focus on doing what he knows first. We can worry about corrections later. But he stumbles over some of the math concepts and gets frustrated when he can’t grasp them quickly.

I don’t doubt he’s tired, honestly. He is difficult to drag out of bed in the mornings (at least, during the school week). He gets to bed much later than I would like because of how long it takes him to eat, and then the hour of waiting time before he can take his pills, and then the dawdling that happens during bed prep time. By the time I get him to bed my evening is gone, too. We’re all tired.

Time is a big problem. He eats slowly and runs out of time to play, which upsets him a lot. At school he hasn’t been finishing his lunch because he’s afraid of running out of time to play. Or sometimes another kid distracts him from eating.

Jack exclaims, “Everything is against me!” or “I never get to have fun!” Then he berates himself – “Ohhhh, why do I waste so much time?!” and smacks himself in the head.

We try to remind him that he has friends and family that aren’t against him. That clothes aren’t out to get him. That he gets to have fun at recess and he gets to watch Scooby Doo and work on various craft projects. We make deals (he’s been a fan of deals in the past) – if he finishes two pages of homework, we can build or color or craft together. We have reward charts for things he needs to focus on – finishing homework, being gentle with the cat, brushing his teeth without dawdling. Various things work for a day or two before they no longer seem to motivate him.

I don’t know how to help Jack. I don’t know how to help myself, either. I feel defeated and so very tired.

Somehow, we need relief.