Tag Archives: panic attacks

Another day another dollar or something like that

So this day came way sooner than I thought it would have. I don’t know how ready I am for it, but to say the least I am so shocked, I don’t really know how to react. Monday, I’m sure the panic attacks will start as will my first day back to work.

I found out today from my union that my benefits ran out back in February  and that I have no insurance if I don’t start work on Monday. Fun times oh, and that I owe $2000.00 that can be paid in two payments in order to keep my insurance. YAAAY! -read sarcastic-

So I can ignore the $2000. bill because lets face it, I have not been working since August and extra money around these parts is scarce. Especially that much extra money but not paying means losing my insurance and Gage kinda needs it. Not sure if you heard but he has leukemia.  FUCK. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Sorry, I’m not going to not pay the bill. Obviously, I have to. Money is just going to be tight around here for a while, but he is totally worth it. Don’t feel too bad for me because I didn’t mention that the bill was actually supposed to be $3000. but I talked them down to $2000. “Totally based on my powers of persuasion, you proud? “<— Best. Movie. Ever.  So you see it could have totally been worse.

Just in case you were all wondering. I love my job and I am so grateful that I even have one in this economy, because this writing business sure don’t pay. I am also grateful to have health insurance because if I didn’t Gage would have a million dollar or more  medical bill.  That I know for a fact, I can’t pay.

Now for a bigger problem. What do I wear on my first day back to work after nine months?

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I Live in Hope.

I have anxiety. Everyday, it seems to get worse. I read a story of someone’s baby who didn’t make it and I hold Gage and pray that’s not us. I wonder if what happens when we put his mediport back in will his candida come back? Will we catch it in time if it does? Oh my god,  what if he relapses?

For a long time I was able to get a hold of my panic attacks and anxiety  and then one of Gage’s doctors said ”we were lucky to catch the candida as quickly as we did last time, because a lot of the times, we lose the young ones before we get to them”   ….   ”but you’re doing a great job, job keep doing what you’re doing”    …

The thing is I don’t know what I am doing. I’m barely holding on some days. I feel like I am being held together with string and one false move and I’m going to shatter and break into a million pieces. I’m not able to fall asleep at night anymore, it seems every time I close my eyes I’m watching a movie of every complication Gage has ever had. I hear it all, I smell it all. The fear washes over me and it wont go away.

I took a CPR certification course yesterday, and as I sat there watching the training DVD,  I felt the anxiety start to creep up on me. My shoulders tensed up the blood started rushing to my head. Oh god, please don’t let me start crying, I don’t want these people, these strangers to think I’m crazy. As I sat there I hear CODE PINK  (code pink at our hospital means that a child is in distress) being paged over the hospital paging system. I went back to that day. The day we came so close to losing him. I sat there, a I started to sweat, my hands were shaking so hard. I was afraid, I was going to have to leave. But I NEED to get CPR certified! Thankfully, the instructor calls for a break, and I can call the Hubs, who reassured me, that Gage is still here,  still alive and that everything will be fine.  And for a moment at least, I’m ok.

Later that day I went to my Holy Place. Target  and aimlessly walked the isles, eating popcorn and drinking a watermelon slupree basking in the fact, I was by myself. A very rare thing. I found this:

I have to...

Of course I bought it. I don’t know what I’m going to write in it yet, but I keep it with me in my purse and I take it out and stare at the words, needing to see them.  Needing to know that what they say is true.

They Deserve a Chance…

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.

Jovita

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.

Leukemia. The New Normal

I haven’t been here in a few days. Sorry. It all just got to be a little over whelming, people have been calling and emailing me, questioning me about what I am writing. Am I sure I want to be putting so much of our lives out their for the world to see?

The answer? Yes, I want to write about it. I want you to know that even though Gage is in remission, I will forever live in fear of relapse. And that even though it has almost been seven months since Gage was diagnosed I still have daily anxiety and at least a couple of times a week I have nightmares. To add to my nightmare Gage has been having nightmares. I rush to his room because his screams are so scary and heartbreaking. I wonder if he remembers like I remember. I hug him and kiss him, and whisper in his ear, that it will all be all right, mommy is here and I love you so much. He always falls back asleep almost instantly, into that peaceful baby sleep, curled up on his belly with his diapered butt sticking up in the air. I usually will stay and pat his back, rub his chubby little cheeks, rub the curls on top of his head. Wishing our lives were normal.

31-40

YOU KNOW YOU’RE THE PARENT OF A KID WITH CANCER WHEN…

30. You have more meds in your cupboard than food
31. You can read your son’s chart better than his nurse
32. You look like you’re tan but it’s really Betadine stains
33. You and your hubby get matching stress tattoos for fun
34. You start teaching your daughter the parts of her body, and you point to her chest, and she says that’s her port
35. None of the security guards on the pediatric floor ask for your ID anymore, and you’re on first-name basis with the operating room staff
36. Medical students ask to borrow your notes
37. Your toddler refuses to sit on Santa’s lap because he’s too germy from all the other kids
38. You wrap presents and packages with medical tape
39. Your main source of nutrition comes from aspirin
40. Your child is more familiar with CT scan & bone scan pictures than the portrait studio!!!

The Stinker

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?