A Building Storm

This post is #98 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

September 13, 2008

At this point in time, it seemed as though things couldn't be going better as far as Hannah's cancer treatments were concerned.  She was coping well with the side effects, her platelet issues had leveled out, and she was in a good routine at school.  Her bimonthly MRIs resulted in an "all clear" every time.

It was time to have a little fun.

So ten years ago today, Hannah, Bethany and I went to the American Idol concert in Tulsa, Oklahoma. If you've followed Hannah's story, you know that she was a huge American Idol fan. She watched the show faithfully from the second season on (the Ruben/Clay year). She was one of those fans who would pick a favorite and vote for two solid hours every Tuesday night. From the third season on (the Fantasia/Diana year), we went to the American Idol concert every year. We would always plan our trip to arrive early in the afternoon and hang out around the venue trying to meet the singers ... and we were usually successful, getting lots of autographs and pictures with her favorites every year.  It was something we looked forward to doing together, and we would always order our tickets the first day they went on sale.

That year's concert featured David Cook (the winner) and David Archuleta (the runner-up), along with the other top eight contestants. I didn't order the tickets right away, because I just wasn't sure how Hannah would be feeling by September.  As the summer went on and I saw how well she was doing, I ordered tickets for the three of us girls.  We were excited about the concert and were really looking forward to it.  Hannah was a big fan of David Cook, and we had followed his story with interest because his brother was also battling brain cancer.

We spent that weekend with Brad's mom and dad, who live in Van Buren, so we would have a shorter drive to and from the concert in Tulsa. This was a blessing, because the weather was awful that weekend. The remnants of Hurricane Ike were blowing through Arkansas and Oklahoma, and we drove to Tulsa in heavy rain and strong winds.

I remember that Hannah seemed somewhat tired when we left Van Buren that afternoon, but that was not unusual, as the primary side effect of her chemo was fatigue. It was too rainy to do our usual autograph-seeking that afternoon, so we went out to eat instead.  I noticed that Hannah seemed a bit relieved that we would not be "stalking" our favorites for a change, even though she had been talking excitedly about it in the days leading up to the concert.

After dinner we headed to the concert venue, ran through the rain to get inside, and showed our tickets to an arena worker, who directed us to the stairs. As we walked up the stairs, Hannah mentioned that she felt a little dizzy. This also was not really unusual ... the radiation treatments had left her with a constant feeling of being "off balance"; in fact, her world was never completely level.

We finally found our seats in the very top row of the arena. And I do mean the top row; the only thing behind us was the wall. The delay in purchasing tickets had put us in the nosebleed section. As we sat waiting for the concert to start, Hannah again mentioned that she was dizzy, and we attributed it to the dizzying height at which we were sitting and the long climb up the stairs.

Hannah was unusually quiet during the concert ... not singing along and yelling for her favorites like she usually did.  Right about the time David Cook came out to sing (the winner was usually saved for last at these concerts), she asked if we could leave. We immediately stood up, descended the dozens of stairs, and began the long drive back to Van Buren. We still had the incredibly heavy rain and the tropical storm force winds to contend with, and now it was pitch dark.  But that's not really what made the trip feel so long.

As I drove through the stormy weather that night, a storm began to build inside of me.  While the car was battered by the weather and the girls dozed in the back seat, the realization gradually grew in me of how seriously ill Hannah really was.  For the first time, my mind began to entertain the possibility that Hannah might not survive this.

At the time, as far as we knew, Hannah was cancer free.  The clear MRI just six weeks earlier was surely proof of that.  But deep down inside, I knew ... I knew something was not right.  It was the first time I felt like we might be losing her.  I allowed the tears to flow silently as I drove through the storm that night ... but by the time we reached Grandma's house, I had tucked these secret thoughts and fears back into a little filing cabinet in my mind and locked them away.  Time to dry my face and carry on.  Hannah was going to be fine.

A "Typical, Happy, Healthy Sixteen-Year-Old Girl"

This post is #97 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

September 8, 2008

At this point, Hannah was pretty much sailing through her treatments ... in fact, those were her oncologist's exact words!  Other than the fact that her hair was still a little thin in spots due to the radiation treatments, nobody would have guessed that she was battling brain cancer.  She was at school every day, only missing for clinic appointments, and keeping her streak of straight A's going strong which was very important to her!

You can see from my email from ten years ago today that we were feeling very good about where we were at this point in this process ...

Hannah had her routine monthly visit to Arkansas Children’s Hospital this morning, and it went really well. As usual, the doctors and nurses were amazed at how healthy Hannah looks and feels as she goes through this experience with cancer. And it’s true! She looks (and feels!) like any typical, happy, healthy sixteen year old girl. Thank you, Lord, for this blessing!

Her blood counts were all pretty good today, although her platelet count has dropped, as expected at this point in the chemotherapy cycle. If we follow the pattern of the last few cycles, though, it should be high enough by next week for her to start her chemo medication again, on schedule this time! We’ll find out for sure next Monday. Our next hurdle, after that, will be her next MRI, which is scheduled for September 29th. We are already praying for a clear scan, with no sign of tumor regrowth.

Isaiah 26:3 - You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.

God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

Shopping With My Girls

This post is #96 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

One of the great joys of having daughters is the shopping.  When they're little, the fun part is shopping for them ... then as they grow up, it's great fun to shop with them.  I always loved shopping for the girls ... matching outfits, white lacy socks, Easter dresses, shoes, prom dresses ... but shopping with them is even better.  Bethany and I still have a great time shopping together.  In fact, a shopping spree is her most-requested birthday gift now that she's all grown up!

Hannah and I were also good shopping buddies ... the last year or so that we shopped together, she took it upon herself to move her mom out of the '90's the '80's.  She really enjoyed critiquing the outfits I tried them on and giving me fashion advice.  I loved it.  One of her favorite shows was "What Not To Wear" (after American Idol, of course!) and she always laughingly talked about submitting my name to Clinton and Stacey.  I apparently needed more help than even she could give me!  :)

Ten years ago over the Labor Day weekend, we enjoyed one of our last opportunities to shop together.  My email from that date ...

September 2, 2008

We are so thankful to have very little to report this week…Hannah’s blood work today was very good, with most counts near normal, and a platelet level of 120,000. Next Monday we will go to Children’s Hospital for our monthly visit, and on September 29th, Hannah will have another MRI. Her school year has gotten off to a very good start, and she has been feeling fine. She does tire fairly easily, and sometimes sleeps for an hour or so after school, but for the most part has been able to go about her daily activities without slowing down. We were even able to take a trip to Mountain Home over the holiday weekend to spend time with family, and squeezed in a shopping trip to Branson while we were there! God has truly blessed our family, and we are so grateful! Thank you so much for your continued prayers!

God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

Half Way

This post is #95 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

August 25, 2008

Six months.  Half a year.  That's how much time had passed since Hannah's brain surgery.  It had been a trying six months, to be sure ... but by this point cancer had subtly slipped into the background of our daily lives.  After the initial flurry of radiation treatments and clinic visits, things had settled into a surprisingly comfortable routine.  It's still amazing to me how quickly we had adjusted to the lifestyle, the vocabulary, and the ongoing monitoring of the cancer experience.

We had been told that she would be receiving chemotherapy treatments for a year, so it was a good feeling to know that we were at the half-way point.

We didn't know at the time that we actually were at the half-way point of Hannah's journey ... just in a different way than we thought.

My email from ten years ago today ...

Today marks six months since Hannah had surgery to remove a malignant tumor from her brain. In some ways, it seems like it was just yesterday, and in some ways, it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Since that date, Hannah has undergone six weeks of daily radiation and chemotherapy, three additional 5-day rounds of chemotherapy, three MRIs, monthly visits to the oncology clinic at Arkansas Children’s Hospital, and weekly blood draws. There is no doubt that our entire family has been changed forever from this experience. We have all had our faith strengthened and have been amazed at the outpouring of love, support, and prayer we have received from our friends, family, and total strangers. It is incredible to me how many people read these emails and pray for our family…many people we don’t even know. We can never, ever thank you enough for what you’ve meant to our family.

Hannah started her junior year of high school this past week, taking her chemo medication on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. We are so thankful to report that the side effects were much less problematic for her this time. Her nausea was much better controlled by medication, and her only real problem was fatigue. She was able to go to school without much difficulty (only needing to leave early one day), and was able to use the weekend to rest up. It’s so encouraging to know that the chemo should not interfere too much with school, because she has seven more months of these 5-day rounds to go. It looks like our biggest concern will be with her immune system, which will be compromised as long as she is on the chemo. We’ll just have to try to minimize her exposure to illnesses and bugs that will be going around this fall and winter.

We went today for her weekly bloodwork, and all of her counts, though a little below normal, were good. She is still a little bit tired from this past week, but overall is feeling great. She will enjoy the next three weeks she has off before beginning chemo again around September 15th. Again, thank you so much for your prayers and support!

God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

President ... And Vice President

This post is #94 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

August 18, 2008

I wish I had a "first day of school" picture for this, the beginning of Hannah's junior year and Bethany's eighth-grade year.  But at this point in her cancer treatments, Hannah really did not like having her picture taken.  Her hair was still thin from the radiation rays and she was a little self-conscious about that.  I respected that and did not take one.  In fact, we have only a handful of photographs of her from that entire year of her battle.

In Hannah's small high school, class elections were held on the first day of the school year.  She came home that day a little bit bummed ... not because she didn't win her election, but because she didn't win two elections!  She was voted student council president ... but was "just" the vice president of the junior class.  Other than that minor disappointment, she was very pleased with her schedule, her classes, and her teachers.  We really couldn't predict the impact her treatments might have on her day-to-day schedule, but she was ready to tackle whatever lay ahead.  School year 2008-2009 was underway!

My email from the first day of school 2008 ...

After a great first day of school, we went to our doctor’s office at Hot Springs and got Hannah’s blood work done. Her platelets were at 102, which is well above the magic number of 75. So…she will be starting her chemo drug tomorrow night, and will take it for five consecutive days. That way, she’ll only have to be in school for three days while taking it, and the last two days will be over the weekend. She’s been feeling so good lately, it’s hard to make her start back on the Temodar, but it will get her that much closer to finishing these treatments. Please pray that she will not feel too bad while taking it, and that it won’t interfere with school too much. This week should give us a good idea of how the school year is going to go.

Your prayers for our family have meant so much to us over the last few months….God has truly used all of you to bless our family! He is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

School Supplies

This post is #93 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

August 11, 2008

I've always loved school supplies. There's something about brand new, never-written-in notebooks, clean loose-leaf paper wrapped in plastic, binders with tabbed dividers, "bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils" (one of my favorite lines from "You've Got Mail"), and neat stacks of pristine pocket folders that I just like.  Every new school year is a blank slate; a fresh start.

Hannah shared my affinity for school supplies. She always wanted to shop for them as early as possible for the best selection, and the second we got home with them, she would get busy. She'd separate them all by class, then painstakingly label each item with her name, her teacher's name, the class title, etc. The loose leaf paper would go into the binders, and dividers would be put into place. Then she'd place everything in a neat stack, largest items on the bottom, smallest on the top. She would have her schedule, locker number, and combination all memorized within five minutes of receiving it. The girl just loved school!

And just like every other school year, she was ready to get started.  She would be a junior this year, and was ready to get it behind her so she could graduate (as valedictorian, of course!) and go on to Ouachita Baptist University that next fall.  Brain cancer was just a blip on the screen of her life at this point.  She had so much to look forward to!

One more thought ... As we approach the eve of back-to-school week in Arkansas, I want to share a word of encouragement to those parents whose children are marking milestones ... starting kindergarten, beginning junior high, entering their senior year of high school, or maybe going off to college for the first time.  Let me encourage you to rejoice and celebrate each of these milestones with your children.  Please don't waste precious time being sad that your children are growing up ... That is what children are supposed to do!  Those are things to celebrate, not to mourn.  Allow me to gently and lovingly encourage you to be thankful that your children are healthy with bright futures ahead of them. Take time to savor every moment and celebrate every milestone!

My email update from ten years ago tonight ...

We had our monthly visit to Children’s Hospital today for routine bloodwork and Hannah’s antibiotic breathing treatment. Hannah’s blood counts were really good…almost all counts were in the normal range, except for white blood cells and platelets, which, of course, is to be expected. Her platelet count was exactly the same as it was last week (72,000), which was really good, because we really had expected it to drop lower this week. She was scheduled to start back on her chemo medicine (Temodar) this week, but her platelets have to be at 75,000 in order to start. So…we are glad she will get to enjoy her final week of summer, but it means that she will probably have to start the Temodar next week, which is the first week of school. At the same time, she will be glad to get yet another round of treatment completed…after that, she’ll only have seven more to go.

We are so thankful that Hannah has felt really good for the majority of the summer, and we’ve been able to enjoy time with family and friends over the last few weeks. We are also glad to be getting another school year underway, and to be getting closer every day to the completion of her treatments. God has truly been gracious to us, and we are so very thankful.

God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Late Summer 2008

This post is #92 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

August 4, 2008

The beginning of August always brings a flurry of back-to-school activity, and late summer of 2008 was no different.  Scattered among the weekly trips to Children's Hospital were cheer practices, band practices, basketball practices, back-to-school haircuts, visits to the dog groomer, dentist appointments, and end-of-summer visits with the girls' grandparents.  And of course, there was the requisite back-to-school shopping!

Bethany would be starting eighth grade in a few weeks, and Hannah was looking forward to her junior year of high school.  We knew the school year would be somewhat challenging with Hannah's medical situation, but things were going so well, we really weren't too concerned.  By the end of the school year, she should be just about finished with her treatments, and would be good to go for her senior year.  Things were moving along just as they should be.

My email from ten years ago tonight ...

This will once again be a short update, because, thankfully, there’s not much to say. Hannah had her weekly blood work today, and her counts have dropped slightly, as expected at this point in her chemo cycle. They are probably a little higher than they were last month at this point in the cycle, so that is good.

She also went to see her ophthalmologist today, at the recommendation of her oncologist. As a result of her surgery, she has some remaining double vision and some difficulty with her upward eye gaze. Neither of these problems is too bothersome…she is able to read without difficulty, and the upward eye gaze is only a problem when she is in a seated position and has to look up at someone standing beside her. She is able to look up, but it requires some extra effort. We’ve been told that these problems may yet resolve themselves, and our visit to the ophthalmologist was just so he could get a baseline indication of where she is right now. Next Monday, we will go to Children’s for our monthly appointment.

Psalm 73:28 ... "But it is good for me to draw near to God; I have put my trust in the Lord God; that I may declare all Your works."

God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Just Another Step Toward a Cure

This post is #91 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

Mid-July 2008

Hannah was amazingly patient with the various aspects of her regularly-scheduled appointments at Children's Hospital.  She didn't love being repeatedly poked as the nurses searched for a "good" vein, but she never complained.  Nor did she enjoy having her blood pressure taken ... in fact, it was quite often high because of the stress related to the blood draw ... but she patiently put up with it, even when it had to be taken more than once to get a reading within the acceptable range.  She smiled her way through all the routine questions she was asked at every appointment.

But she hated the antibiotic breathing treatment she had to endure every month.  This was no inhaler or nebulizer-type breathing treatment.  Hannah had to sit in a hospital bed or on a chair, be zipped into a plastic tent, and breathe in some sort of foul-smelling (and apparently foul-tasting) medication for about thirty minutes.  The tent was transparent, so we could see each other when she was in there, and we could talk to one another if we raised our voices a bit.

I'm not really sure why she hated that treatment so much, but I have a suspicion.  It was obviously unpleasant, but so was most of what she went through during that year.  The purpose of the procedure was to prevent a certain type of pneumonia to which she was susceptible due to her chemotherapy regimen ... and I know she thought that was silly.  She never believed she would get pneumonia.

I suspect that what really bothered her was how isolated she felt sitting in that tent.  For those thirty minutes each month, she could do nothing but sit inside that tent, breathe, and think.  While sitting surrounded by plastic, I believe she keenly felt the separation that existed between herself and the rest of the people in her world.  The isolation of being a teenager with brain cancer became a little more real.

Finally the tent would be unzipped and she would be freed from her temporary prison.  She would sputter around for a few minutes to clear the remnants of yuckiness from her nose and mouth, and then her good humor would return.  Another month's breathing treatment down.  Just another step in the process of accomplishing our goal ... a cure for Hannah's glioblastoma.

Reasons to Celebrate

This post is #90 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

July 21, 2008

It had been a busy summer with Grandma and Grandpa Camp, our family trip to Nashville, and the celebration of Grandma Frankie's life.  The cancer battle had actually become somewhat routine at this point ... weekly blood work, platelet monitoring, and five days of oral chemotherapy per month if those platelets were high enough.

But nothing can shake up a routine like an upcoming MRI.  Hannah was on an every-two-month schedule for these scans, and it was already that time again.  For us as Mom and Dad, the "scanxiety" could be extreme.

But Hannah approached these MRIs with remarkable composure.  She never needed any kind of sedation ... just her headphones and a Carrie Underwood CD.  The biggest stress for her was the insertion of the IV because she was such a "hard stick".  I've wondered if maybe she didn't really understand the life-or-death nature of these scans, or if she was just that confident that everything was going to be fine.  I believe it was the latter.

Thankfully, this particular MRI promised us at least two more months of life.

As you can see from my email from ten years ago today, we had several reasons to celebrate!

Well, we had a good visit at Children’s Hospital today. We first went to the oncology clinic, where an IV was inserted (to be used for the MRI contrast later) without too much difficulty. They drew Hannah’s blood and all of her counts have improved…some even within the normal range! She had her antibiotic breathing treatment, and then we went down to the MRI suite. About 45 minutes later, we were sitting with her oncologist looking at today’s scan compared with her original scan from February 20th. How awesome to see that wonderful, clear MRI picture right beside the MRI picture with the tumor! The oncologist said that today’s scan looked really good to him, but the radiologist will have to read it and we should get the final results tomorrow. We are again very thankful for what God has done!

We are also thankful that this round of chemotherapy has been easier on Hannah than the last one. She took her last dose on Saturday night, and is already feeling pretty much back to normal today. Her nausea was much better controlled by the new drug, and other than some off and on queasiness and fatigue, the five days went by much more quickly than last time! Thank you for praying! She will have eight more rounds of chemo to go, with the next one to start in 23 days. This timetable could change, though, and probably will, based on her platelet counts. It’s nice to know that she will have at least 23 days without any side effects from treatments!

Your prayers have truly made a difference in our lives….God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Thoughts At a Funeral

This post is #89 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.


I love this picture of Hannah and her great grandmother Frankie.  It was taken when both of them were still healthy and perfectly captures the special relationship they had.

Grandma Frankie's funeral was held in a small country church filled with family and friends.  As the eulogy was read and the songs were sung, I couldn't help but wonder what was going through Hannah's mind.  Was she thinking of her own mortality as she considered the life and death of her great grandmother?  She had heard what the doctor said about glioblastoma on the day of her diagnosis.  Did she wonder if her own funeral might be next?  Or was her faith so strong that she didn't even harbor such thoughts?

I honestly don't know.  She was intensely private, and if she had any such thoughts, she kept them to herself.

My email from ten years ago today ...

July 15, 2008

Hannah had her weekly bloodwork done a day late this week, because we spent the day yesterday celebrating the life and homegoing of Brad’s grandmother. Frankie Mae Stahl Owens was a precious, godly lady whose life was an example to the whole family and to all those around her. She will be greatly missed, but we are all rejoicing that she is now in Heaven, where she most wanted to be!

Hannah’s counts have all risen somewhat this week, including her platelets, which are now at 87,000. That means she will start her next five-day round of her chemo drug tonight. The doctor has decreased her milligrams from 340 to 300, in hopes that it won’t take her platelets quite so long to recover from this dose. They have also prescribed a different anti-nausea drug, which we are hoping will be more effective in keeping her nausea under control. Starting a new round of this treatment is kind of bittersweet…we hate for Hannah to have to go through it when she’s been feeling so good lately, but at the same time, it is good to get back on track with her treatments again, because it will just bring her closer to getting finished! She will have eight more rounds to go after this one is completed.

Next Monday (July 21st), we will go to Arkansas Children’s Hospital for her bloodwork, her antibiotic breathing treatment, and an MRI. This will be a very full day, and Hannah may still be feeling a little sickly from having just finished her chemo medication a couple of days before. Then on Tuesday night, we will be meeting with a volunteer from the Make-A-Wish foundation, which Hannah is really looking forward to!

Please be in prayer that this round of chemo will cause less nausea than the last one, and that our appointment on Monday will go well, with a good MRI report. Your prayers have meant so much to us over the last four months, and we continually thank God for all of you!

God is good, all the time!

Jill

Family Vacation to Nashville

This post is #88 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

Mid-July 2008

Our family was blessed to enjoy several wonderful vacations together ... while the girls were growing up, we made treks to Branson, Gulf Shores, Disney World, Yellowstone, and several other fun destinations to visit family and friends.  During the summer of 2008, Brad had to travel to Nashville, Tennessee, to attend a work-related conference and we girls had the opportunity to accompany him.  It was the perfect trip for us that year ... not too far from home and our doctors if Hannah had any issues ... yet far enough to be a good get-away for us. 

We stayed at the Opryland Hotel, which was an interesting experience in and of itself.  We enjoyed some good restaurants, toured the Country Music Hall of Fame, visited a botanical garden, shopped at a couple of big malls, and saw the sights of Nashville. 

During the time we were there, we could almost forget that Hannah was sick because she was doing so well, but there were little reminders.  In this picture, we were at a pool of manta rays at one of the malls we visited.  We had a great time feeding them and reaching into the water to touch their backs as they skimmed past.  You can see the thinness of Hannah's hair, which she worked hard to cover up with her ever-present wide headband.

Here the girls were having some fun posing with "flat" Dorothy, emulating the expression on her face.  One of the only lasting side effects from Hannah's brain surgery was the inability to look up with her eyes, and you can see that in this picture.  She could look to the side, but not upward. 

Thankfully, these were relatively minor issues and we were able to fully enjoy that time together as a family! 

On Friday of that week, while we were still in Nashville, we received the sad news that Brad's grandmother had gone to Heaven.  Well ... sad for us, but not for her!  Frankie Mae Stahl Owens had raised nine wonderful children, and had 20 grandchildren and 37 great grandchildren.  She was an amazing example of a life well lived, and we knew her reward in Heaven would be great.  We headed home to Arkansas the next day to prepare to celebrate the life of Hannah and Bethany's great grandmother.   

More Delays

This post is #87 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

The summer of 2008 continued to roll along quite uneventfully.  I never knew that life with cancer could be so ... mundane.  But we  certainly seemed to be in a lull period of this battle.  Low blood counts resulted in delay after delay in treatments, and we were enjoying the reprieve.  Of course there were always the niggling thoughts that cropped up in the back of my mind ... how might these delays in this battle impact Hannah's long-term health?  What if the lack of timely chemo treatments resulted in her cancer's return?  But then I would look at her ... feeling so well and enjoying her life, and those thoughts would be temporarily squelched. 

My email update from a decade ago today ...

July 1, 2008

Time for our weekly update! Hannah had bloodwork yesterday morning in Hot Springs and the results were mixed. Her platelet count was up slightly, which is good, but her other counts (red/white blood cells, iron level) had all dropped somewhat. I talked to the oncology nurse at Children’s Hospital this morning, though, and she didn’t seem to be concerned. Apparently, this is to be expected. So, we will be postponing the chemo for at least another week, probably two.

The good news is that Hannah is feeling really good, and is looking forward to at least another week of being treatment-free! When we saw the doctor at Children’s last week, he told us that they will decrease the amount of Temodar in this next round of chemo from 340 to 300 milligrams, since the last round was so hard on her counts. He also prescribed a different anti-nausea medication that he believes will help her not feel so sick when she does have to take the Temodar again.

Hannah’s current treatment plan calls for her to have an MRI every two months, and her next one is scheduled for July 21st at Children’s Hospital. MRIs always make us a little bit apprehensive, so it will be nice to get that behind us. In the meantime, we are thankful that Hannah is having a relaxing, enjoyable summer, and is feeling so well.

Thank you again for all of your prayers…your love and concern for our family has just been amazing! God truly is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Platelet Problems

This post is #86 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

June 23, 2008

Until Hannah was diagnosed with cancer, I never really thought very much about platelets.  I suppose I first learned about them in science class in junior high.  I had a basic understanding that my blood was made up of red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets, and then there was the plasma that all that stuff floated around in.  I even had a general awareness that they had something to do with the clotting of blood.  But I didn't really care about them ... They certainly had no impact on my day-to-day life.

I could never have known what a huge factor platelets would eventually become not only in my life, but in Hannah's.

My email from ten years ago today ...

This morning Hannah had her monthly appointment at Arkansas Children’s Hospital, and all went well. Our first step, of course, was the blood draw, and fortunately, our favorite nurse was there, and she was able to draw Hannah’s blood with only one stick. Then, after quite a bit of waiting, we got to see the oncologist. He was very pleased with Hannah’s progress, and he shared the results of the bloodwork with us. 

All of Hannah’s counts have gone up (her red blood count is in the average range for the first time in a long time!), except for her platelets, which have dropped even lower than they were last week (down to 32,000 from 47,000). She was supposed to start back on the oral chemo drug today, but they will not start it back until her platelets are at least 75,000. He said that it is not unusual for the platelets to drop way down following these early rounds of chemo; and said that over time, as her body adjusts, it shouldn’t be as much of a problem. 

So…we will be postponing her next round of chemo for at least another week. While Hannah is happy about the temporary reprieve, we hate to get too far off schedule with her treatments, although the doctor didn’t seem to think it was a very big deal. The good news is that Hannah is feeling really good right now. Having low platelets apparently does not affect how you feel; it just causes you to bruise and/or bleed easily because platelets have to do with the clotting process. The doctor also gave us a prescription for a different anti-nausea drug, so hopefully when she does start back on the chemo drug, it won’t make her feel quite so bad.

We are so grateful for the doctors, nurses, pharmacists, etc., that God has put into our lives who have really helped us along this road over the past four months. And we are so thankful for all of you who read these emails…many of whom we don’t even know…who pray for our family regularly. Your prayers and encouragement have truly made a difference in our lives. You have truly been a blessing to our family!

God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

Grandma and Grandpa Camp

This post is #85 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

June 16, 2008

Another Grandma and Grandpa Camp was in the books and while Hannah clearly enjoyed the time with her grandparents and cousins, I could tell she was glad to be home.  On the last day of Camp, they visited the Heifer Project just outside of Little Rock, and I drove up to meet them there and bring the kids home afterward.  It was an interesting tour, but it was hot outside, and I could tell Hannah was rapidly running out of gas.  We headed home right after our tour, and I was thrilled to have my girls home again.

Here are a couple of pictures from G and G Camp that year ... As you can see, they really had a great time!  Hannah really liked nothing better than spending time with her extended family.  Those G and G Camp experiences are something that will always be treasured.

Here's my email from ten years ago today ...

Time for our weekly update…Hannah had her bloodwork done today, as she does every Monday, and her counts overall were pretty good. Her platelets have really dropped off, from 138,000 last week to 47,000 this week, but I think that is to be expected following chemotherapy. They won’t give her platelets unless they drop below 21,000…but they also won’t let her start her next chemo treatment until they get up to at least 75,000. The best news is that she has really been feeling good over the last couple of weeks. She had a great time with her grandparents and cousins last week, and was able to do lots of fun things, like horseback riding and kayaking. We are so thankful that she felt good and was able to enjoy herself the whole time.

Thank you so much for every prayer you bring to the Great Physician on our behalf. You will never know the impact these prayers have on our daily lives. God is truly good all the time!

Jill and Brad

Not Missing a Thing

This post is #84 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

June 14, 2008

So I started this year-long series with every intention of writing some kind of post every day ... and I did really well for 71 days straight.  And then, well, you know how it is.  And that's okay.  I hope to get back on to a little more regular schedule in the weeks ahead, although I'm pretty sure it won't be daily, ha!  We'll see how it goes!

Ten years ago today, Hannah took her ACT test.  She had just returned from her G and G Camp week, and was pretty worn out, but she was adamant about taking that test.  She had just completed her sophomore year of high school, and planned to take it several times over the next couple of years, hopefully increasing her score each time so she could get lots of college scholarships.  She didn't feel well that day, and she still struggled with the "falling out of her chair" sensation she'd had ever since completing her radiation treatments, but she did it!  I don't even remember the exact score she got ... only that she wasn't pleased with it, and felt she should have done better.  At that time, we couldn't know that Hannah's ACT score was not going to matter.  We were operating under the assumption that she would complete her treatments over the next year and start college in the fall of 2010.

When Hannah was but a preschooler, she decided she wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps and go to Ouachita Baptist University.  She proudly wore her "Future Tiger" t-shirt and proclaimed to anyone who would listen that she was going to go to Ouachita when she grew up.  As she got older, she never wavered in her decision, even making plans to room with her good friend, Brittany.  Brad and I excitedly looked forward to going to visit her in the dorm (especially since it's only a 40 minute drive down the interstate) and to attending all of her OBU events as proud alumni parents.  I was even going to prominently display one of those "My Daughter Goes to OBU" bumper stickers!  When she died in the spring of her junior year of high school, all that changed.

We still have the opportunity to visit the beautiful campus at Ouachita from time to time, but it's not to visit Hannah or to cheer her on in Tiger Tunes.  For a few years after her death, we had the privilege of awarding the Hannah Joy Sullivan Memorial Scholarship to a rising junior or senior studying in the educational or medical field (two areas in which she had an interest).  We had the opportunity to speak to a "Death and Dying" class last spring, and we've been to a few Tiger Tunes presentations. 

After one of those scholarship-awarding visits a few years ago Brad and I spent some time walking around the campus in the evening. The weather was unseasonably warm, and I've always loved Ouachita's campus at night.  Many things have changed since we were students there years ago, but a lot of things have remained the same, and I'm glad about that.

But, as we walked, I couldn't help but be sad about why we were there at all.  This was not the way it was supposed to be. I should be like all my Facebook friends ... going to visit my daughter at college for a special occasion, excitedly anticipating her coming home for the holidays or the summer, mailing her homemade treats to help her get through finals week.  How did my life turn out like this ... where instead of receiving hugs from my college-age daughter, I was receiving recognition for giving a scholarship that I would much rather not have a reason to give at all?

It was at times like that I had to remind myself that Hannah was not missing a thing by not being a student at OBU. As nice as their new dorms seemed to be, they sure couldn't compare with a mansion in Heaven!  I was the one who felt robbed and cheated by the fact that we missed out on these times with her, and I have to remember that in the eternal scheme of things, I really didn't miss anything either. What's a 3-month visit home for the summer compared to an eternity together in Heaven? There's no comparison!

The sting is still there ... especially as Hannah's friends are now college graduates, starting careers, getting married, and having babies.  She is missed every day ... but she's not missing a thing!

Thankful for "Normal" Life

This post is #83 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

June 9, 2008

I never knew that life with cancer could be so "normal."  On the days that Hannah was treatment-free, life seemed to go on as it always had.  It was summertime, so we were moving at a little bit slower pace, but there were still school workshops to attend, dentist appointments to keep, cheerleading routines to practice, and basketball camps to sweat through.  We celebrated Bethany's 13th birthday, and life was good.  Hannah was feeling better after having completed her first round of oral chemo ... and best of all, her hair had pretty much stopped thinning as a result of the radiation treatments.

For several years, as their grandchildren were growing up, Brad's mom and dad would host "G and G Camp" (Grandma and Grandpa Camp) for a week each summer.  At that time, they had six grandkids ... all girls.  Hannah was the oldest, Bethany was the second oldest, and they stair-stepped down from there.  It was something the girls looked forward to every year, and it was quickly approaching that summer.  We weren't sure if Hannah would be able to participate ... it would depend upon where she was in her treatment schedule, what her blood counts looked like, how much energy she had, etc.  Thankfully, she was able to go, and I'm so glad her cousins and grandparents were able to spend that special time with her that summer.

My email from ten years ago today ...

Hannah had her weekly bloodwork done today in Hot Springs, and we are praising God for near normal results! All counts were slightly low, but are closer to normal than they’ve been in a long time (with the exception of her white blood count, which was just a little bit lower than it was last week). She has also been feeling much better over the last several days since completing her first round of the higher-dose chemotherapy drug. So much better, in fact, that she and Bethany left this morning to spend a few days with her grandparents and four of her cousins in Van Buren, Arkansas. This is something they do every summer, and we were afraid that she wouldn’t be able to go this summer. We are so thankful that she is feeling well enough and that her counts have held strong enough for her to be able to do something “normal” for a few days!

Again, we are so thankful for your prayers and encouragement! God’s people have been so good to our family throughout the last few months…we can never thank you enough!

God is good all the time!
Jill and Brad

Round One Complete ...

This post is #82 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

June 2, 2008

Round One of Hannah's oral chemotherapy treatments was complete, and it felt good to get it behind us.  It had been rough ... no doubt about that ... but we had a nice stretch of treatment-free days ahead of us now before Round Two would begin.  We were encouraged.  We could do this for eleven more months if that's what it took for Hannah to be healed.

My email from a decade ago ...

Hannah has finished her first five-day round of chemotherapy…praise the Lord! Thankfully, she has not been as nauseated today, which we hope is a sign that her body will eventually adjust to this higher dosage of chemo. She also had her blood drawn today, and all of her counts are good…not quite normal, but good enough for now. We’ve been told to watch for a possible drop in her counts over the next week or two.

Once again, your prayers have helped us through a difficult few days. We are looking forward to the next 28 days, in which Hannah will be treatment-free, before starting her next five-day round of chemo. God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

My Hero

This post is #81 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 31, 2008

I remember the exact moment my teenage daughter became my hero. She had already been through brain surgery, 33 radiation treatments, and several MRIs. She had begun an oral chemotherapy protocol where she took a dose of a drug called Temodar for five days out of each month. She had to swallow five large capsules (what I would call "horse pills") each night before bed.  They were so large, she had to swallow each one individually.  The next morning, she would usually wake up very sick, and then remain drained of energy all day.  I would watch her take those pills, one at a time, and wonder how she could do it. How can you force yourself to swallow something that you know is going to make you so sick ... not just once, but five times ... and for five days in a row?  I distinctly remember watching her one evening, taking one pill after another, very matter-of-factly and without complaint, and thinking for the first time, "She is my hero."  Taking those pills was really a small thing, in light of all she went through during the year of her illness, but to me it was truly heroic.

My email from a decade ago ...

I have some specific prayer requests to share with you tonight. As of today, Hannah has taken three days of her first five-day chemotherapy treatment. The first day, she was slightly queasy…yesterday, she was a little more queasy…and this morning, she was very nauseated and very sick. She’s feeling a little better this evening, but at bedtime tonight, she’ll have to take another dose (actually five pills) that she knows will make her sick tomorrow. That’s a very difficult thing to do. Then tomorrow night, she’ll have to do it again. And she’s got eleven more rounds of this treatment to go! Please pray for her strength as she takes this medication, and for relief from the nausea. Also, please pray that she will not become discouraged as she faces the months ahead.

Thank you again for your prayers…and for the many encouraging emails you send. We are not able to personally answer all of them every time, but please be assured that we are reading all of them, and God is using them to strengthen us and Hannah. He truly is good all the time!

Jill and Brad

The Next Step

This post is #80 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 28, 2008

Hannah had finally completed her radiation treatments, triumphantly capped off by an "all clear" MRI report, and our family settled into a much more normal lifestyle.  We enjoyed a nice stretch of days where the girls were both attending school regularly, Brad and I were back at work, and we were able to resume our typical family activities.  For the time being, at least, we could push our concerns about Hannah's health off the front burner.  It felt like we had surmounted a huge hurdle by getting this first round of treatments behind us.

However, in our more lucid moments we knew we were really just at the beginning of this battle.  We had been told that Hannah would take an oral chemotherapy drug five days out of every month for twelve months.  And when those twelve months were up?   Well ... the doctors were a bit vague on that point, but basically we were told that we would be finished.  We assumed that was when Hannah would finally be considered cured. 

Ten years ago today, she started this twelve-month period.  Here's my email from that date ...

Just a brief update tonight…Hannah had her bloodwork done yesterday, and her platelet count was up to 111,000, which was a great improvement over the 62,000 she had last week. So, that means she gets to start her chemo drug back tonight. She will take the drug for five days, then have 28 days off. This pattern will continue for ten cycles. This is a much higher dose of chemo than she took initially, so please join us in praying that the side effects will be minimal. The biggest side effect of this drug is depressed blood counts, as we’ve already seen. Please pray that her blood counts will stay up, and that she will be able to avoid any infections over the next several months.

Again, thank you so much for your continued faithfulness in prayer for Hannah and for our family. God is truly good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

MRI Day ...

This post is #79 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 19, 2008

MRI Day was finally here.  Everything felt so surreal as we made our way into the bowels of Arkansas Children's Hospital to the MRI area.  There's something very jarring about watching your daughter being strapped down to a narrow table and then slid into a claustrophobia-inducing tube ... especially knowing that the results of these scans could potentially forecast life or death for her.

Thankfully, ACH allows parents to stay in the room with their child during MRI scans.  We spent a lot of time over the next several months sitting on flimsy plastic chairs in the corner of that chilly room, nervously holding hands and whispering prayers with the jackhammer sounds of the MRI machine clanging in our ears.  And every time, when the scan was complete and the technician came in to release Hannah from her bonds, we would look deeply into his or her eyes to try to get a hint of what they may have seen on their screen.  But those folks were good ... They must spend a lot of time practicing those impassive I'm-not-revealing-anything facial expressions.   Most of the time, though, we would find out the MRI results the same day from her oncologist, so we didn't have to wait long!


My email summary from that day ...

We just arrived back home after a long, but good, day at Arkansas Children’s Hospital. We are praising God for a good MRI report! The doctor said there was no sign of the tumor returning or of any other problems. She was very pleased with what she saw.

We did have a little bit of a scare with Hannah’s blood counts. They put in an IV when they did the MRI because they had to use a contrast dye for that procedure. They first tried to put it in her arm, but that vein quickly blew, and they ended up putting it in the back of her hand. They left it in so that it could be used for the blood draw which we knew would be coming later on. Well, when they tried to draw blood through that IV later on, it was really a struggle. It took forever, and they had to keep flushing the IV with saline to get it to work right. Anyway, when the doctor came in with the results of the bloodwork, she told us to get ready for a platelet infusion, because her platelet count had dropped from 60,000 last week to 9,000 today! After we explained to her about the problems they had had getting the blood drawn, she decided that maybe it was a bad sample, so she ordered another one. By this time, the IV had been removed, so they stuck Hannah two more times (unsuccessfully) in an attempt to get a vein, and finally did a finger stick and got enough blood drop-by-drop to do another platelet count. Thankfully, this time it was at 62,000, so no transfusion of platelets was necessary!

They also gave Hannah a breathing treatment while we were there today. This also caught us a bit off guard, because she has not had any respiratory problems at all. They explained to us that when a person’s blood counts are low, they are at especially high risk for a particular kind of pneumonia, and this was an antibiotic treatment to ward off any possible infection. She will have this type of treatment once a month for the duration of her chemotherapy program.

Today we found out a little bit more about the future of Hannah’s treatment program. Once her platelet count gets high enough (a minimum of 75,000) she will start back on her chemo drug, and she will take it for five consecutive days, then have 28 days off, then five days on, 28 days off, etc. At least, that is the plan. The doctor explained that if her counts drop again, she’ll have to have more than 28 days off in between treatments. She will have to have ten of these five-day chemo treatments, so she said we could figure on about a year’s worth of treatments ahead. When she took the chemo drug before, it was at a strength of 160 mg per day…now it will be at a strength of 340 mg per day. She assured us that it should not cause hair loss or too many other side effects, other than problems with blood counts, so Hannah’s blood will be monitored closely.

Even though Hannah has a lot ahead of her, we feel that we reached a major milestone today by having a clean MRI report. Once again, we are so thankful to God for carrying us to this point, and know that He will complete the good work He has started in Hannah. And we are so thankful to all of you who read these email updates, for being so faithful to uphold us in prayer before Him.

God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

Scanxiety!

This post is #78 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 18, 2008

Hannah's blood transfusion rejuvenated her to such a degree that it was almost possible to forget she was sick ... almost.  There was a big reminder hanging over us, and that was her upcoming MRI.  Every cancer patient and his or her family understands the term "scanxiety", and there was definitely some of that going on!  This would be her first MRI since the day after her surgery, and the results would tell us a lot about how successful the surgery had actually been and whether or not her treatments so far had been effective.  In spite of the inevitable scanxiety, I remember feeling fairly confident that everything was going to look good on these scans.  I also realize, looking back, that the true gravity of what we were facing had not yet set in.

My email from ten years ago today:

Just a quick update and prayer request tonight…

Hannah has felt good this week, ever since her transfusion on Tuesday. Her energy level has been much better and her appetite has really improved. She has obviously been feeling much more like herself than she has since all of this began back in February. Tomorrow morning she is scheduled for an MRI, which will be the first she’s had since the day after surgery. Please join us in praying that results will confirm that the tumor is completely gone and that the radiation and chemotherapy has done its job in keeping it from coming back. After the MRI, we will be meeting with the oncologist to hear more about her future course of treatment.

Thank you so much for your prayers…we are still so humbled and overwhelmed by the emails, cards, phone calls, and gifts our family has received during this season of our lives. God has truly been faithful through the storm, and He is good, all the time!

Life-Giving Blood

This post is #77 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

Photo from visualhunt.com

May 13, 2008

Up to this point, Hannah had handled everything that had come her way with remarkable aplomb ... the discovery of the tumor, brain surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, weekly blood draws ... but the news that she would have to have a blood transfusion really threw her for a loop.  She didn't know what to expect, and was quite nervous about the procedure.

I called a friend of mine who has frequent blood transfusions due to chronic low iron, and she was able to talk with Hannah and reassure her somewhat.  She told her what she might expect and how much better the infusion of fresh red blood cells would make her feel.  I'm not sure Hannah was entirely convinced, but it did seem to calm her anxiety somewhat.

As the transfusion got underway that afternoon, I couldn't help but consider the parallels between the blood Hannah was receiving and the life-giving blood Jesus shed for us on the cross.  Her body had become depleted of what it needed to survive, and there was absolutely nothing she could do on her own to make things right.  She found herself completely dependent upon the blood of an anonymous donor to restore her to physical health.  The transformation that took place as those red blood cells flowed into her veins was nothing short of remarkable.

In the same way, there is nothing we can do on our own to make things right with God.  The Bible tells us there is no righteousness apart from the shedding of blood (Hebrews 9:22).  But this blood doesn't come from any anonymous donor ... It comes from the Son of God Himself!  And when we accept His sacrifice by faith, His blood restores us to spiritual health.  And even as Hannah's physical health was still compromised, it was a comfort to know that her spiritual health was strong.

Here's my email from ten years ago ...

We are rejoicing tonight that after receiving two units of blood today, Hannah is feeling much better! We arrived at the hospital at 9:00 this morning, she began receiving the blood about 11:45, and we left the hospital at 4:30. On the drive up this morning, Hannah was very quiet and listless; on the way home, she was laughing and talking…and hungry for the first time in a while! What an amazing difference! Please join us in praying that this transfusion will give her blood the boost it’s been needing and that her counts will continue to improve from this point on. Your prayers have certainly carried us through on a day by day basis…Thank you!

God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Answers ...

This post is #76 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 12, 2008

Thankfully, clinic day brought some answers for Hannah's ongoing malaise.  Here's my email from ten years ago ...

Well, it’s Monday, so that means bloodwork for Hannah. But first, let me back up and fill you in on the last few days. Hannah has been running a low grade fever since last Tuesday, and has been experiencing a great deal of fatigue over the last few days. She even missed three days of school last week, more than she missed the whole time she was undergoing radiation and chemotherapy. 

Today’s bloodwork showed an increase in her platelet count (up to 60,000 from 40,000 last week), which is great, but there was a rather significant drop in her hemoglobin count. The oncology nurse explained that this is probably the cause of the symptoms she’s been having, and Hannah now has an appointment to have a blood transfusion at Children’s Hospital at 9:00 tomorrow morning. She said that she believes this will make Hannah feel much better.

We are so thankful that we have an answer to the symptoms Hannah has been having and that it is something relatively easy to “fix”. We are also so thankful for all of our friends and family who faithfully lift us up in prayer before the Great Physician. And we are so thankful that we serve a God who is good, all the time!

Jill

A Disappointing Evening

This post is #75 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 11, 2008

The day we'd been waiting for had finally arrived.  Yes, it was Mother's Day, but more than that, it was Carrie Underwood Concert Day!  Hannah had been a huge fan of Carrie's ever since she first walked onto the stage to audition on American Idol.  She had her picked as the winner from the very beginning of that season ... and spent two hours on the phone after every episode voting for her to make sure she was the winner.

When I first heard that Carrie was coming to Little Rock for a concert, I hesitated to buy tickets right away because I wasn't sure where Hannah was going to be in her treatment protocol.  Once I realized that the timing of the concert would coincide perfectly with the break between her initial round of treatments and the beginning of her second, I bought three tickets, and the planning for our girls' trip commenced.

Hannah had not felt well for several days leading up to this date.  She'd missed a few days of school and had not been well enough to participate in her choir's Alice In Wonderland performance.  As much as she loved Carrie Underwood and was looking forward to this concert, though, I just knew she was going to be ready to go.

But once again, she woke up that morning not feeling well.  We stayed home from church so she could get as much rest as possible, hoping she could build up some stamina for the concert that evening.  Mid-afternoon found her still lying on the couch, too lethargic to even sit up for long.  Clearly she would not be able to attend the concert.  In fact, she didn't even want to go to the concert.  She assured us that she didn't mind if Bethany and I went without her ... but that wasn't even a consideration.  Neither Bethany nor I had any desire to go if Hannah wasn't going with us.

So while Carrie Underwood rocked Verizon Arena, we spent a quiet Mother's Day evening at home.  My heart was heavy with the awareness of just how sick Hannah really was, even though she never really let it show.  I couldn't have known then ... nor would I have wanted to know ... that that would be our last Mother's Day together.

Our regular weekly appointment at the Children's Hospital Hem/Onc clinic was scheduled for the next day, and I couldn't wait to get there and find out just what was going on with our girl.

One Less Flower

This post is #74 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 9, 2008

The debut of the Magnet Cove High School Choir's performance of Alice in Wonderland was scheduled for this evening ten years ago.  Hannah had missed a lot of the practices due to our numerous trips to Little Rock for radiation treatments and doctor's appointments, but had a small role as a flower.  She had always enjoyed theater and drama, performing in several plays when she was younger, and she had been looking forward to this performance.

But shortly after her last visit to the Hem/Onc clinic, when everything was looking so bright and sunny, she inexplicably began to struggle with fatigue again.  She became pale and listless, and didn't want to attend school.  That's how we knew she was really feeling bad!  The day before the Alice in Wonderland performance, she asked me to call her choir director and let her know that she would not be there to play her role.  Thankfully, they could get by with one less flower.

We were concerned, of course, but not overly so.  We knew she had been through a lot over the last couple of months and had really been pushing herself hard to stay involved in everything.  It seemed that she had finally reached her limit and was just worn out.  I was fine with her staying home from school and just resting for a change.  After all, the Carrie Underwood concert was coming up that Sunday and I wanted her to be well rested so she could fully enjoy that!  We three girls were so looking forward to that celebration of the completion of her first round of treatments.

A Bright and Sunny Road Ahead

This post is #73 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

May 6, 2008

At this point in Hannah's treatment, we were really enjoying living a "normal" life.  We were nearing the end of the school year, and were fully involved in all the busy-ness that brings.  Between the two girls there were field trips, track meets, academic banquets, and cheerleading tryout meetings.  Hannah was in the high school choir, and they were preparing for a performance of Alice in Wonderland.  She didn't have a big role because she had missed so many practices ... but she was determined to be the best flower she could be!  Most of all, she and Bethany were excited about the Carrie Underwood concert coming up in Little Rock that Sunday evening (which also happened to be Mother's Day) ... a special treat we had planned to celebrate the end of Hannah's radiation treatments.  The road ahead at this point looked bright and sunny!

Here's my email from ten years ago today ...

There have been few “Hannah” updates lately, because thankfully, there has been very little to report! She had her weekly bloodwork done in Hot Springs yesterday afternoon (one stick!) and we received the results today. Her platelets have risen to 40,000; still far below the normal range of 150,000-400,000; but we are finally on an upward trend! She has been feeling much better since finishing her radiation treatments a little over a week ago. Her energy is slowly returning…not nearly as many naps in the recliner after school. Her appetite has been a little slower in returning…food still just doesn’t taste very good to her. The next big date on our calendar is May 19th. She will have an MRI that day, and we will find out a little more about the rest of her treatment plan.

Many of you have asked about how Bethany is doing, and I’m happy to report that she appears to be pretty much back to normal. She still has an occasional day when she feels tired and worn down, but those days are becoming fewer and farther between. We are so thankful that we are down to the remaining 2 ½ weeks of school…I think we will all really enjoy having some time off!

We are so blessed to know so many people who love the Lord and who love our family. Your prayers have really lifted us up and carried us through the last couple of months! God is truly good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Focusing On the People In Front Of Me

This post is #72 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

Well, did you wonder what happened to me?  I'd been doing so well with making my daily posts, and then I became disconnected.  Literally. 

If you've followed this blog for a few years, you are familiar with the While We're Waiting ministry, which God birthed out of our experience with Hannah's cancer journey and subsequent homegoing.  I will share more specifics about the WWW ministry in future posts, but basically the cornerstone of the ministry is the retreats we host for bereaved parents.   Until very recently, all of these retreats were hosted and facilitated by the four co-founders of WWW, primarily in Hot Springs, Arkansas. 

This past weekend, we hosted our first While We're Waiting Weekend for Bereaved Parents in the Pacific Northwest.  We were based at the Ochoco Christian Conference Center, which was in a beautiful and very rural location in central Oregon.  So rural, in fact, that there was no cell phone service and no wifi.  For a person who spends the majority of her day sitting in front of a computer screen replying to emails, processing registrations, and monitoring our WWW facebook pages, this was quite a change!  Quite a refreshing change, I dare say.  It allowed me to slow down and focus on the people who were actually right in front of me.  I did have a couple of very brief intervals of wifi at the camp office, but certainly not enough to compose and publish a blog post.

Over the next few weeks, my posts will be intermittent.  My brother and sister-in-law and their two children, who are on a brief furlough from an overseas mission field, will be staying with us for several days next week.  Bethany, who is now all grown up and married, will be graduating from dental hygiene school in a couple of weeks, and she and her husband will be joining us on a nice vacation to celebrate her accomplishment.  I'll be posting a few decade-old emails over the next few weeks as I continue to process through the events of Hannah's year of cancer ... but for the most part, I plan to focus on the people in front of me.