Tag Archives: death

Wee Ghosties

Posted on March 25, 2011 | 9 comments

I haven’t mentioned this to anybody yet, because I don’t want to sound crazier then I already am, paranoid. OK, I’m kind of nervous about this next sentence, but here is goes. I think Gage sees dead people.

Dead serious, ***no pun intended***. But do you remember the time in the hospital when Gage almost died? Well, I think that since he almost “crossed over” he was told it was not his time, and to go back. Thank you baby jeebus he listened too. I am not writing this to be funny, I swear. I truly and honestly believe with everything that I have, that Gage has become that creepy kid from The Sixth Sense.

He holds these long conversations, with absolutely no one. Conversations, with wild hand gestures and long pauses that make you believe someone or something is talking back to him. His voice rises and falls in excitement and anger. He offers his “friends” his sippy or snacks. He doesn’t talk to his living friends the same way he talks to these “friends” his whole demeanor changes, he is not shy with them or hesitant in any way. I think he feels safe with them, like a kindred spirit or something

Oddly enough non of this bothers me either. If he does have friends that are no longer in this realm, good for him. Good friends are hard to come by now a days, take ’em where you can get ’em Kid.

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They Deserve a Chance…

Posted on March 4, 2011 | 6 comments

So one of the many things I remember from the hospital, one that I would like to forget is when we would go down for surgery, ct scans, or ultra sounds the nurses would sit my adult sized ass in a CHILD SIZED WHEEL CHAIR! which totally is not what this post is about, but I just remembered this one time when trying to shimmy my way out I actually got stuck and they had to have someone help me out. Because my ass was not meant to squeeze into a pediatric wheel chair. UGH- embarrassing memories, thanks blog post.

Anywho, the other thing I remember most about those trips in the hospital was I would be in the mini wheel chair, and Gagers would be on my lap waving to everybody we passed. I wouldn’t at look anybody we passed in the eye ever, because I hated their pitying looks it was bad enough hearing the “oh, that’s so sad and poor baby.” Really? You totally think that is appropriate to say when I can hear you? It’s not comforting to me. In fact I want to scream “yes, this is fucking sad. But would you like to know what’s worse? Pediatric cancer research sucks.”

Did you know? The federal government has made only very modest investments in research through the National Cancer Institute (NCI). For every six research dollars per patient with AIDS and every one research dollar per patient with breast cancer, a child with cancer receives only 30 cents. To us, and the families of the 35 children diagnosed with cancer each day, it is clear that much more needs to be done to ensure access to treatment and the opportunity to fully recover.

30 freaking cents, that is all Gage is worth to them. It truly is enough to make me want to march to Capitol Hill and shove this blog down their throats. To make them see pictures of Gage make them look at his face, hear his laugh, show them that he is one amazing kid. Make them love him like I do. I’d tell them to get their heads out of their asses and do something about childhood cancer research funding. Because every baby deserves the chance to grow old.

Ethan Deserves a Chance

Caleb Deserves a Chance

Gage Deserves a Chance

And so do the 12,500 children and adolescents in the U.S. diagnosed with pediatric cancer each year.

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Jovita

Posted on March 3, 2011 | 6 comments

I did something very indulgent yesterday. I hired somebody off of craigslist to come to my house and clean up Gagers room, because even though we have been in this house for… OMG, three months as of today. The most I had gotten done in there was getting his large furniture put together, clothes and toys were always on the floor. Unpacked boxes, hangers, empty target bags I hide from the Hubs so he doesn’t see how much I actually buy ***target is like mom crack, totally addicting*** and a hospital overnight bag. Just in case. But on the floor it all was, taunting me.

Everyday I would go in Gagers room and then walk right back out again, promising myself and the Hubs that I would clean it tomorrow. Promise. Finally after three months of midnight diaper changes and almost spraining my ankle over all the crap on the floor, I took action and her name is Jovita. She is an angel in a denim jumpsuit and knock off Sketcher Shape ups. It took her two and a half hours and forty dollars but it was more than worth it for me, seriously it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I swear Jovita is just like the miracle worker the rest of my day was totally amazing, my hair looked super shiny, my makeup looked flawless, and I fit into my skinny jeans!

OK, that last part was a total lie. My skinny jeans don’t fit and I don’t see them fitting for a long time. I’d like to blame the girl scouts for that. Them and their stupid cookies…thin mints sandwiched between dark double chocolate chip galato. Yumm-O.

Honestly though, sometimes a person just needs to do what is right for them. Jovita was exactly what I needed. Firstly, because I am super lazy much to the Hubs dismay and secondly, because I finally got to put Gagers new race track carpet on the floor in his room instead of rolled up against a the wall. He totally loves it.

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The Stinker

Posted on February 18, 2011 | 9 comments

Bath time in our house is a HUGE event. For Gage. Not for me. Gage loves baths, mainly because he only gets them once a week. Then he is only in the bath for like fifteen minutes tops, with no splashing. While during the entire bath I am freaking out, begging Gage not to splash, and telling him to “sit down before you fall down.”

Normally Gage would be able to take a bath for as long as he wanted to, heck I have had to refill the tub with hot water half the time, he can play in the water for hours. That all changed in December when, after careful consideration and tons deliberation Gages doctors decided to take out his port. Because no matter how hard we tried, and how much medication we pumped into him, Gage kept getting candida in his blood. So with fear and trepidation, we sent Gagers back into surgery to remove his port and replace it with a temporary hickman line. Which is a pain in the butt, not only because I have to drive to the hospital every three days to get the dressing changed, because it’s an open site. But also the site can not get wet. Hence the excitement of bath time.

I have concocted my own special, Gage is gonna have a bath dressing. Which involves saran wrap and surgical tape. Poor Kid he hates this, mainly because every bath he gets, I use half a roll of the saran wrap and a whole roll of surgical tape. But Gage gets his bath, the nurses get a clean smelling baby for clinic the next day, and everybody thinks I’m a good mother for making it possible to Gage to bathe; so everybody wins.

I was begging Gage to give me the bucket, since he is on steroids right now I have to ask nicely and make it seem like he totally wants to give me the bucket. Or he might go Linda Blair on my ass, and throw him self backward in the tub, his head might start spinning; and throwing up chemo medicine on me. Come to think of it, he does that when I don’t get his food to him quick enough too. But he did give me the bucket, nice and calm like; and so I gave him an extra fifteen minutes in the tub. Ain’t I just the nicest?

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Ragin’ Gage

Posted on February 15, 2011 | 9 comments

Gage started delayed intensification last Thursday. It was a long time in coming, six months in fact. Some days, I never thought we’d get to this point, and now that we are here I am scared of all the complications that can happen. I take his temperature like every hour just to make sure he doesn’t have some random fever. I call is doctors because his cough is back, and oh my gosh is that a rumble in his chest, did the cough move to his lungs? I have an overnight bag packed just in case we have to go to the hospital at the last moment.

The Delayed Intensification “road map” looks like this:

This is what Gage is going to be subjected to in the up coming weeks, he should also be receiving Pegasparaginase (PEG), which is two shots in his legs during week one. But he had the allergic reaction to the last shots of PEG he received, which in turn caused him to get pancreatitis and the ulcers on his pancreas that landed us in the hospital for three weeks before Christmas. So thank you Baby Jeebus, no more PEG shots!

Since starting delayed intensification, Gage has been so cranky. He is on seven days of dexamethasone, and seven days off for a couple of weeks and not only is he getting adorably chubby, since he is eating like a little piggy but he is getting not so adorably bitchy, as well.

His nick name from the hospital is back, we call him Ragin’ Gage. He screams and fusses all day long and as soon as Daddy comes home, he is all sunshine and lolly-pops. I have  actually called the Hubs at work, in tears begging him to come home, because there is nothing I can do to fix Gages tantrums. I know it’s the medicines fault that he is acting this way, but after seven hours of screaming fits, all rationalization is out the window.  Though the highlight to being at delayed intensification is once we are done with this round of chemotherapy we head into maintenance, which is kind of like the light at the end of the tunnel.


This is what Gage looked like last time he was on the dexamethasone. So cute and chubby! (sorry the picture is so blurry it was taken on my iPhone on zoom)

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Ready For Anything

Posted on February 14, 2011 | 2 comments

I don’t think that I will ever breath easy again. The panic attacks are back with a vengeance and I can’t control them. I don’t see things that have happened but things that could happen. Since Gage was diagnosed back in August of last year, we have had to be prepared for the worst. And by worst I mean I have his funeral planned out.  I know nobody wants to hear this but it’s truly been my way of coping with his leukemia. Sitting nervously in the waiting room at three o’clock in the morning not sure if he was going to make it out of surgery, I prepared myself. What Gage would wear, what the Hubs and I would wear, the colors. I knew then that no matter what since Gages life was such a joy and celebration to us, his funeral would be the same. A party in his honor, a celebration of his life.

It’s with a cold detachment that, when I think of it all, almost like it’s not happening to me. Like it’s not my baby. We all tend to think because he is doing so well right now, that he will continue to do well. Which is what I am begging for, because I truly do not know what I would do, if anything were to happen to him. But that can all change at the drop of a hat, he can end up sick and in the hospital, or worse. His life is just so unpredictable right now, as a family we don’t take a single day of Gage for granted. Which means he is going to be so spoiled because we can’t seem to say no to him, or take away his bottle.

 

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