I Believe in Miracles
Posted: Saturday, August 01, 2009
by Brianna Popsickle
"I think your daughter has Hodgkin's Lymphoma."
The words hit me hard.
My little girl has cancer? How could that be?
She had all the symptoms; paleness, bruising on the legs, night sweats and loss of appetite. What kind of mother was I that I hadn't realized something was wrong? She was pale, but it was winter. I hadn't noticed the bruises on her legs. I turned down the heat, and traded her warm flannel sheets for cotton, when she complained of being too hot at night.
We thought she had the mumps. My husband took her to the night clinic. The doctor said it wasn't mumps, and arranged for her to see a pediatrician the next morning in the Emergency ward.
The pediatrician completed an examination, ran some blood work and sent us for an ultrasound. I waited anxiously with my five-year old son and my daughter, trying not to think about the round, black mass that had appeared on the screen, as the technician rolled the ultrasound scanner repeatedly over the side of my daughter's neck. The doctor returned to our room, looking grim. I knew it wasn't good.
"I've called The Hospital for Sick Children, and they would like to see her tomorrow."
"I believe she has Hodgkin's Lymphoma."
I looked at her in disbelief. I swallowed hard and stared wide-eyed so the tears forming in my eyes wouldn't fall to my cheeks. I knew once I started I wouldn't be able to stop.
She put her hand over mine and asked if there was someone she could call for me, or was I able to drive home? I told her I was fine. I told her we would be fine.
We stopped to pick up my husband at the school where he taught. Class had just let out. He could see by the look on my face something was horribly wrong. The kids talked to another teacher while I pulled him aside and gave him the news.
We drove home in silence. We walked in to the kitchen where I had hung Happy Birthday signs, balloons and streamers the night before. Today was our daughter's seventh birthday.
We ate her favourite meal, now aware of how little she ate. We took pictures of her with her brother and with her cake, and realized just how pale she was.
How could this be happening to us? We had already gone through our struggles. I had been through surgery and a cancer scare of my own years earlier. We had just come through a year of living apart while my husband attended teachers college. He landed a teaching position in another city, so we left our families behind and had just moved into our new home. Things were starting to look up, until now.
We spent the evening on the phone notifying our parents and siblings. I called my daughter's teacher and asked if she could let everyone know the birthday party scheduled for Saturday would be postponed. It would not be cancelled, just postponed.
And so began our frequent two hour drives to Sick Kids hospital. It was the middle of winter and it seemed to storm almost every time we made the trip.
I remember one trip in particular. My husband was driving as I sat in the seat behind him with our daughter snuggled up against me in her jammies, blankets wrapped all around. Elton John came on the radio singing "The Circle of Life" from the Lion King, a movie our daughter loved. My eyes met my husbands in the rear view mirror, as tears ran down both our faces. We didn't say a word as the love of our life slept peacefully beside me, unaware of what the next few weeks would bring.
From the moment we arrived at Sick Kids hospital we felt hopeful. We knew they were capable of fixing anything. She was examined by several doctors and scheduled for a variety of tests. Over the next series of visits she would have ultrasounds, a CAT scan, Gallium scan and more.
We spent hours in waiting rooms, reading her stories and stroking her head as she slept. I remember waiting in the oncology department. Several pale children, who had lost their hair to chemo or radiation, with big eyes and quiet smiles, were playing together. Suddenly one of them coughed and then another. I looked at my husband who instinctively knew what I was thinking. Those children were coughing the same cough our daughter had recently developed.
I looked at the eyes of the other parents and was reminded of a scene from the movie, Titanic. You know the one, where they are holding on to the rail of the ship just before it goes down? She looks into the eyes of those around her. Everyone had the same look of disbelief and helplessness on their face. It was the same look I saw on the faces of those parents in the waiting room that day. When our eyes met, it was like we knew what the other was feeling without having to say a word.
The consensus was in. Not only did the doctors suspect our daughter had Hodgkin's, they were certain she had Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, a high-grade, aggressive form of cancer.
Each visit there was a different test and each day we were sent home afterwards, where they thought she would be more comfortable. Little did they know, home to us was where we had moved from one month ago, where both of our families were. We had not had time to meet many people in our new city.
Word spread though, and the support was overwhelming. Dozens of cards started arriving from old and new friends, along with gifts of flowers and teddy bears. Masses were being said for her at our old church and at our new one.
Over the next week my daughter grew visibly weaker. My parents came to visit and my mom told me months later, when she had first seen her she thought, "She is dying."
I saw my husband age ten years as he tried to carry on with a new position as best he could, taking as little time off as necessary. We decided to send my son back with my parents rather than having him make the trips to the hospital with us.
We tried hard not to let our daughter see us cry. I did my crying in the shower and on my long walks each evening. I prayed until I could pray no more.
Finally, ten days since she had first been seen in Emergency, she was scheduled for surgery. They would remove the mass and do a biopsy. They said we would probably be looking at chemotherapy and /or radiation, and would discuss it more once the results were in.
We met with the surgeon who was the first and only doctor to say, "Who says it's cancer? We may get in there and find out it's not. Don't ever give up hope."
We held hands and prayed the rosary as they led her off in a little wagon to surgery. I tried to keep positive thoughts but one thing haunted me. She was to make her First Communion in a couple of months. Her dress and a veil made by my grandmother that my sisters and I had worn for our First Communion, were ready for her to wear. I started to wonder if she would ever wear it. In a weak moment, I told my husband if something happened to her, I wanted her to wear that dress. He wouldn't let me think like that, he wouldn't let me give up.
They removed the mass, and sent a sample for biopsy. We waited over a week for results. As she grew weaker my husband carried her from her bed to the sofa. Doctors told us to give her whatever she wanted to keep her comfortable.
My parents called and my husband talked to our son who started to cry, wondering if we were ever going to come get him. My husband drove four hours through a blizzard that night, to bring him home to us so we could all be together.
Our daughter took a turn for the worse. Doctors discovered that the incision in her neck had become infected. She was admitted to our local hospital for another surgery. She was kept for a week and given countless antibiotics to fight whatever infection was raging through her. They allowed me to sleep in a chair in her room. I remember having a girl's night, two of us crammed into her single bed, watching a movie and eating popcorn.
Slowly, incredibly over the next few days, she began to come around. She seemed to have more energy and some appetite returned.
And then we received our miracle. The biopsy came back negative. The doctors were as stunned as we were, probably more so. They determined she was full of infection but would probably never know exactly what the cause had been, or what type it was. But thankfully she responded to one of the many antibiotics she was given.
Once she was released, I had to take her to Emergency each morning before school, where they would unpack and repack the wound in her neck. It was an extremely painful procedure for her to endure and difficult to watch. I learned then just how strong my little girl was.
Even now, I think back to those children and parents we met in the waiting rooms at Sick Kids, and wonder what became of them. I wonder why our daughter was spared, and their children were not. I wonder how they got through it.
I would like to say the experience made us stronger, but I don't think it did. I think if anything we became a little numb.
I would like to say it brought my husband and I closer, but at the time, it didn't.
I would like to say it made us appreciate the little things more, but we had always appreciated the little things.
All the cancer scare did was make me painfully aware that I have no control. I can do my best to keep my children safe but their lives and ours are in someone else's hands.
It made me realize that bad things happen to good people. Just because you have come through bad times doesn't guarantee you will not go through more down the road.
When we left Sick Kids hospital for the last time when our daughter was seven, not once did we imagine we would be back with her years later, facing life-altering decisions.
One thing I did learn was, I couldn't have gotten through it without my faith in God. He gave us a miracle when our children were born, and he gave us another miracle the day our daughter was miraculously healed.
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Top-level comments on this article: (5 total)-prayer is heard and does work if its fervent and repeated;youre an inspirationThanks very much Paul, for your comment.
Brianna, "I couldn't have gotten through it without my faith in God." As long as you know, that you know and that which resides in you...God in man working through man to get to man. Stay your course. Through whatever, stay your course.(I will share one of my Laconics with you: Bow down to no man, but bid all men to come up to you.) This means when another look at you, let them see the LADY before them. All will treat you as such, all because of your faith in God. You do not have to argue with the world about your faith, you do not have to prove it to the world. The world is doing exactly what it is suppose to do, sin. We are sojournals. This world is our testing grounds. With your faith, just remember JESUS.Thanks Dr. Rucker, for taking the time to read and comment. I will stay the course.
It's my considered opinion that Nietzsche was full of it when he said "that which does not kill us makes us stronger."But what a story. I am so glad things turned out well for your girl- and your family. I have seen it go bad too many times.My best to you and yours, and ...Keep writing!Thank you very much Ken. I appreciate you taking the time to read my story and commenting.
I think life will challenge us to the last breath but with each experience we gain a another coping skill and another way of dealing with the next bump in the road. I think being vulnerable is more healing then being strong.I believe somethings are never going to make sense until we take that last breathe so we just have to let them go.Hugs to your family.Hugs to you Robin. Thanks so much for your comment. I agree with you.
I was one of those parents at Sick Kids. 17 years ago I left Sick kids without my daughter. You ask "I wonder why our daughter was spared, and their children were not. I wonder how they got through it." My reply to you is " The pain doesn't go away." My Katie left this world to soon. She left before her little life after began. I can't change what God has chosen. I don't understand how he loved her more than me, but he did.My heart goes out to you Rose, and to all those parents who came home without their child. No one, unnless they have lost a child, can truly understand what you've been through. I admire your courage and thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and commenting. You and Katie will be in my prayers tonight.
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