The unwanted guest

What a July it's been, for our family.

Brooklyn's latest test results came in a little over a week ago. Her MRI was NED (no evidence of disease) and while her urine markers were up, the oncologist assured us it's nothing at all to worry about as random urine samples for absolutely anyone can change from day to day.

The spot on her liver has not changed in any way, therefore the doctors will continue to monitor it with ultrasounds every three months after her MRI scan and bloodwork.

She has officially moved to the 'aftercare' clinic in 3F at McMaster.
The secretary congratulated us when she handed back our appointment card.

This month we celebrated and thanked our friends and family with a big party at our place... food, cold drinks, ice cream, fun and lots of laughter. We cried a little, hugged a lot and ended the day feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for our village.

A front AND backyard full of our family and friends. We are so blessed.

Brooklyn is, by all definitions, back to normal.

She'll be participating in the Heater's Heroes event next month in Niagara Falls.
She's happily attending camp twice a week.
Swimming in the pool with her brothers.
Playing with friends.

She is a survivor.
She is a hero.
She is my daughter.

Despite all this goodness and normalcy, lingering doubt remains.
My mama brain never shuts off.

She expressed feeling very dizzy two days in a row this week and the roller coaster of worry began...

What if?
How could?
Why?

Let me tell you, the thing about cancer is that once it's arrived, you can never really pack it up and send it out the door. There will always be an unwanted guest in the heart of a parent whose child experiences cancer.

I pray for, and worry about my kiddos every. single. day.
But this unwanted guest called cancer, it has the strength to overwhelm gratitude.

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess

A snapshot of child life

Last week Brooklyn and I took a trip up to McMaster Children's Hospital to visit our friend Nancy, one of two child life specialists in oncology. The pre-planned appointment was set with a goal of preparing Brooklyn for her next MRI, taking place this week.

Brooklyn spent about an hour with Nancy, focusing their time together on IV insertion and use as well as the MRI machine. Brooklyn's last experience went very poorly in nuclear imaging so Nancy kindly suggested we be more proactive in our approach this time around.

Brooklyn learned about how the needle retracts after entering the vein and leaves only a 'straw' behind in her body. She was reminded how helpful emla cream is in reducing needle pain, and practiced removing bandages carefully and slowly to diminish hurt. They talked about the difference between 'sleeping' at home and 'sleepy medicine' at the hospital, and why its so important she sleep through this test.

She also made a diagram to remind herself what she can and cannot do on the day of her MRI. The outside depicts things she can do - play ipad, close her eyes, take a deep breath, etc - and the inside marks the four things she cannot do - run, hit, yell or kick. She also pre-picked a special prize to reward her for good behaviour at this week's appointment.

Here are a few photos to help visualize her experience.




Visual reminder of can and can't dos.




Brooklyn giving her doll 'sleepy medicine'.




Step one of IV insertion.




After placing 'emla' on Nancy's hand, she then
practiced taking the band-aid off to reduce pain.




Miniature MRI machine

The child life team at Mac are incredible people. They are courage-builders, peace-makers, teachers and cheerleaders for children experiencing traumatic and scary situations. My heart is always so darn full after spending any amount of time with them.

Brookie's MRI is this week. I will share her results later in July.
Please pray for a NED result.

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess

To my husband on our anniversary

On June 24th Jay and I mark a very special milestone.
Ten years of marriage.

We don't remember our wedding song. (and we think this is funny)
I can't remember our first date. (movies? dinner?)
But we will never forget the day we sent our first fur baby over the rainbow bridge.

You love beer.
I love rum and coolers.
But we secretly prefer a cold fountain pop to just about anything alcoholic.

We've endured two apartments.
One mouse house.
One family mortgage.

Three dogs.
One fish.
Two induced labours.
One emergency c-section.

I've had three surgeries.
You've had one. And a pretty scary MRI I do recall.
Throw in a broken ankle for good measure.

We've struggled to connect.
Taken our anger out on each other.
Minced words over nonsense.

Sleepless nights.
Anxiety filled days.
Overwhelming weeks.

Yet here we are.

Strong.
Faithful.
Loving.
In love.

Our relationship is built on a foundation of mutual respect, deep love and genuine appreciation for our similarities but more importantly our differences. We couldn't care less about the jones' or any other societal pressure to be something we are not.

We are who we are.
And it feels so darn good.

We've learned that stuff - possessions and displays of income - mean very little to us. We took a giant financial leap backward just to prove this point. And we both still appreciate this decision, four years later.

We are raising our children to express love.
Help the helpless.
Trust in God.
Sing because it feels good.
Dance for every reason possible.
Cuddle.

We've admittedly allowed our relationship to take a backseat to the daily rituals of life with three kids. But we don't mind because we know we love one another. Our bond is quiet, yet the strongest piece of our family. We know it, and our kids find comfort in this.

Thank you for loving me, especially on days when I don't even love myself.
For picking me up off the floor on my worst days.
And celebrating the best ones.

For reminding me of our blessings.
And turning down the to-do list echoing in my head.
For making me laugh every. single. day.

Thank you for being an incredible father.
Husband.
Best Friend.
Soul Mate.

Thank you for ten years, Jay.
Love, pure love, our love, will always carry us <3

Here's to ten more.

First since

This weekend was a special one.

Brooklyn celebrated her 6th birthday.
She also participated in her third-ever dance recital, a tap number for Fascination Dance Studio.

This birthday was her first since being diagnosed with cancer.
This recital was her first since being hospitalized.

First since.

The thing about cancer is that once someone you know is diagnosed, mortality bullies ego.

I thought about the death of my daughter from cancer.
I considered that it was possible to lose her, after more than five years on this earth.

Children die of cancer.
Despite medicine, surgery and prayer.
Daughters and sons die.
Brothers and sisters leave their siblings.

Brooklyn's outcome is far and away a small minority of cases. Last I spoke with Brooklyn's oncologist I was told that most children Brookie's age land on the opposite end of the spectrum, with widely spread and stubborn tumours requiring intense therapy.

But that didn't happen to Brooklyn.
She is NED.
No evidence of disease.

She is gorgeously recovered, and as a family we find ourselves marvelling at the first since situations.

This weekend we shed more tears of joy, felt more pride and healed more than we ever imagined. Jay shared with Brooklyn that he shed those tears today, while watching her dance her final tap performance to Bippity Boppity Boo, a fitting tribute to the princess who lived by 'have courage and be kind.'

Brooklyn responded to her Daddy's story by reminding him that the last time he shed those tears was when she was discharged from the hospital, post-surgery.

Tears of joy, another first since we feel so blessed to experience.

#TeamBrooklyn #WarriorPrincess

A lifetime of courage

I was at a local early years centre this morning, chatting with my sister-in-law about my messy morning and as we're talking, she was tickling my niece. Anyone who knows my niece can attest to the fact that she's adorable (and reminds me of Brooklyn's little days) and silly and fun.

My niece lifted up her shirt, begging for more tickles.

I stared.
My eyes were fixated on her adorable stomach.
There was no scar there.

My heart hurt.
My eyes stung.
It caught me off guard, to feel such grief.

Brooklyn's belly will always mark the place where doctors saved her life.
She will tell her cancer story every time someone notices the scar.

A four inch bravery line.
A lifetime of courage.

#TeamBrooklyn #WarriorPrincess

National Cancer Survivors Day

 

Today she climbed wooden obstacles. Tackled hay stacks. Crawled in the dirt.

Today she proved why neuroblastoma couldn't win.

Today, Brooklyn demonstrated why she is a child cancer survivor.

Today she is my hero.

 

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess

This morning was a tough one

Brooklyn and I went up to Mac for her three month check up, sprinkle donut in hand, singing loudly to the 90s mix on the radio.

 

We arrived on time, and B was happy to be there.

She ran to the far right desk in the entrance of the 3F clinic, proud to know her way around.

She grabbed her paperwork, and in we went.

 

The 3F clinic was quiet. We may have been the first family to arrive.

She was happy to play toys and wait for the doctor until we found out she required a finger poke, as oncology teams call it, down in the lab.

We hadn't been there before.

A finger poke was new.

She was used to IV lines and major blood draws.

Because of this, she immediately shut down the moment I told her we needed to take a walk.

 

The child life specialist and I bribed her with ipad time and treasure chest rewards.

She was leery, but she went.

 

Upon entering the lab, her switch flipped.

 

Happy, agreeable Brooklyn was gone.

Angry, anxious Brooklyn had taken over.

 

The nurse, child life and I couldn't convince B to walk into the finger poke room.

She literally dug in her heels, crossed her arms over her chest and started shouting NO WAY.

 

My heart sank.

My body started to shake.

Tears formed in my eyes.

 

A beautiful, teenaged cancer kicker (who was waiting for her own finger poke) noticed.

With her thin frame, cute hat and positive smile, she came over to Brooklyn.

 

She was in for her second finger poke of the week, she said.

Do you want to come and see how we do it, she said.

It's really ok, she said.

You even get to pick the bandaid, she said.

 

Brooklyn's shoulders dropped a little.

Leery once again, she held my arm tightly and entered the finger poke room.

 

This gorgeous cancer kicker, with her wide smile, talked Brooklyn through the process. Why they warm her finger, how quick the poke was, how she looks for a cool bandaid while the nurse works in order to stay distracted.

 

B watched.

B listened.

 

In the end, it didn't matter. Brooklyn has post-traumatic stress associated with needles and her fight or flight instinct did kick in. She completely lost herself, kicking and screaming and hitting and crying so hard she was sweating.

 

It was overwhelmingly sad.
My heart broke into a million more pieces.

Cancer fucking sucks.

 

But, this girl, this teenager who's fighting cancer the way a boxer would his opponent, she reminded me of something.

 

Even when our bodies feel weak.

Even when our spirit is on empty.

Even when every single OUNCE of our mind tells us life isn't fair.

 

We have to fight back.

We have to stay focused.

We have to lead with love.

 

This girl, she led with instant and genuine love for my Warrior Princess, and for that I am so grateful.

 

This morning was a tough one.

I will take some time to cry.

Grieve.

Hurt.

 

And then I will pick myself back up and love, the way this beautiful girl demonstrated today.

I hope you'll do the same <3

 

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess