Why I Count

It may seem ridiculous to refer to the immensity of a poopy diaper by the number of wipes taken to properly clean off the aforementioned poop (that was a seven wiper diaper!). Or to count the number of police vehicles with their lights on seen on a recent trip to Seattle (6 going, 55 returning... the President had just landed and the I-5 through to downtown was clear!).

It might also seem just as ridiculous to count the number of appointments, IVs and tests I've had. If you've worked or experienced the the oncology world at a hospital for kids, you might know why I do this. Children are given necklaces and a bead is placed upon it for having gone through various tests, procedures, treatments, etc. Each bead represents an accomplishment... a badge of honor... the survival of difficult and sometimes very traumatic experiences. It does not mean that you've had to go those experiences without tears or ugly words or difficulties. It just means you survived and are on the other side of that bump or mountain. But as you look at the necklace and all of the various coloured beads, you realize how much you've endured and how far you've come. It's an expression of the journey and a celebration of things past!

I've worked in pediatrics for a reason. I'm a kid at heart. I like simplicity. I like clarity. I'm very easily distractable. I have a kid brain.

There's no way to quantify how my life has changed since my cancer diagnosis. There's no way to translate the amount of tears I cry into an understanding of my struggles. There's no way to grasp the present joy and anticipatory pain that I experience when I say good night to my husband or little boy with the words "Never forget how much I love you."

I count for this reason.

These are my milestones. This is how I've spent my time these last ten months. This is why mama is sometimes tired and puts on a video rather than playing with the toys. I'm not just sitting at home dwelling on impending doom and death. I'm as active as I can be and actively trying to do things to live a purposeful life. 

Here are some random facts about the things I count. Sometimes an appointment is fifteen minutes, sometimes it's five hours. Most of my IVs have been in my right arm; all 27 doses of chemo in my right hand (this in and of itself is pretty amazing!). And most times, IVs and bloodwork have needed only one poke! Then come the other tests. I'm pretty sure I'm glowing with radioactivity... but then again these tests have made it possible to see what can't be seen when you just look at me.

I'm truly thankful for each of these things listed below & I'm proud of myself for having gone through them. I'm blessed to live in a place where my main expenses are for parking and some medications. I'm a big kid and don't need a necklace (plus as a friend said, "the beads would have to be very small or the necklace very long!"). But my kid brain does need some way to quantify all that's gone on... and this is how my kid brain expresses it.

What I Have Survived Since Feb 12
(in 104 Appointments)

IVs (successful) x 51
IVs or Bloodwork (unsuccessful) x 8
Bloodwork x 54
Biopsies x 13 (I think)

Chemo x 27
Bone strengthening infusion x 10

MRI x 1
CT x 6
Ultrasound x 3
Xray x 5

ECHO x 1

Surgery x 1

Parking Ticket x almost one