My little one has once again threatened to run away from home. Reason being, she got scolded.
You DON'T love me.
I do, but I don't appreciate the rudeness.
(4 year old teenager throws herself sobbing onto the bed)
When there is nary a response from me, she rummages around for a bag, packs some spoons, cooking masak massak toys, 1 scarf and a toy phone. Then comes out of the room, puts on shoes.
Where are you going young lady?
I'm running away from home.
Okay, and where are you going to run away too?
Malaysia.
How?
I'm going on a pegasus. (flying horse by the way)
Hmm...and how will you survive in Malaysia?
I'll get money from Cambodia and then I can buy food.
(Stomps around, trying to find her pretend money)
Ah...and when you poo in Malaysia, who's going to clean your bum?
*jackpot*
Okay, I'll stay here with you, but only for a while. But you must apologise for scolding me.
I can't, because you deserved the scolding.
(huge sobs again)
You want me to cruxify myself first before you're happy?
sigh....the future of teenage-hood seems to loom large. I wonder if little boys do this or do they just throw a tantrum, get a few smacks and off they go to play? little girls are a force to deal with!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
2011
Its a brand new year! I always get excited at the start of the year...new possibilities, new dreams, a 2nd chance...this year, I have decided that it'll be a year of blessings. Yes, I am not God, but this is what I've told Him. Last year really sucked, big time. So I really need Him to reassure me of His love, His pampering, the way a father does when his little girl just got bullied AND fell into a puddle of water at the same time. I guess I've been really tired out and feel like I've been wrung out to dry/spinning in a washing machine/both. This year, I've decided to go back to the gym, spend time pursuing something I love--right now, its a 3 way toss up between sewing, writing and learning to paint. Of course, this year will also be an extremely busy year with Paige crusing all over the shop and Maeve going to kindy. I'm trying to get her to practice writing her small letters to no avail. Have told her if she keeps writing in caps, everyone will think she's shouting. does she bother? of course not. She's 4 going on 14. why would she?
On another note, we came back from this month's check up a little more comforted. Although it wasn't very pleasant to access her port (she struggled and cried), a mentos after cheered her up considerably, AND our oncologist said that if the scan on the 21st of this month shows she's in the clear, then the chances of a relapse are like 0.1%. woo-hoo!!!! AND the port can be removed by the end of the year if we so wished. Oh yes, we so wish very much indeed! So I guess after this pet-scan, my alert mode can drop substantially. So please continue to pray for an all-clear this 21st. We scheduled it on the 21st as we've got a wedding of a dear student to attend on the 22nd and we're going to use it as a reward for her. ie. "go through the painful procedure and you'll get to attend the wedding!" she loves weddings so we hope that will be sufficient incentive to help her brave it through. And yes, we also told her we'll ask all to pray that her veins in her little hand will widen significantly so that it'll be less painful when the radioactive contrast goes in. She screamed in sheer agony the last time as they had to push quite hard to get the liquid in given her eensy weensy tiny veins.
Tomorrow my brave princess goes to a new school. A brand new start. New teacher, new friends. She's excited, I'm nervous. Nervous that the other children will laugh at her lack of hair or make mean remarks. I'd like to say that I believe in the inherent goodness of children, but unfortunately, the inherent goodness also means complete truthfulness without kindness (unless taught at home). Case in point, we were at a cafe with a playground having a lovely lazy breakfast one morning while Maeve played and swung and climbed. A little girl, a little older, took one look at my bald child and hooted to her little friends to "come see an ugly bald girl"! Didn't know if I should slap her or her (in this case) grandparents, who did squat to remedy the situation. So with trepidation and lots of prayer, I send my precious one to school tomorrow, praying she'll have a swell time, laugh lots and make some friends.
On another note, we came back from this month's check up a little more comforted. Although it wasn't very pleasant to access her port (she struggled and cried), a mentos after cheered her up considerably, AND our oncologist said that if the scan on the 21st of this month shows she's in the clear, then the chances of a relapse are like 0.1%. woo-hoo!!!! AND the port can be removed by the end of the year if we so wished. Oh yes, we so wish very much indeed! So I guess after this pet-scan, my alert mode can drop substantially. So please continue to pray for an all-clear this 21st. We scheduled it on the 21st as we've got a wedding of a dear student to attend on the 22nd and we're going to use it as a reward for her. ie. "go through the painful procedure and you'll get to attend the wedding!" she loves weddings so we hope that will be sufficient incentive to help her brave it through. And yes, we also told her we'll ask all to pray that her veins in her little hand will widen significantly so that it'll be less painful when the radioactive contrast goes in. She screamed in sheer agony the last time as they had to push quite hard to get the liquid in given her eensy weensy tiny veins.
Tomorrow my brave princess goes to a new school. A brand new start. New teacher, new friends. She's excited, I'm nervous. Nervous that the other children will laugh at her lack of hair or make mean remarks. I'd like to say that I believe in the inherent goodness of children, but unfortunately, the inherent goodness also means complete truthfulness without kindness (unless taught at home). Case in point, we were at a cafe with a playground having a lovely lazy breakfast one morning while Maeve played and swung and climbed. A little girl, a little older, took one look at my bald child and hooted to her little friends to "come see an ugly bald girl"! Didn't know if I should slap her or her (in this case) grandparents, who did squat to remedy the situation. So with trepidation and lots of prayer, I send my precious one to school tomorrow, praying she'll have a swell time, laugh lots and make some friends.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
check-up
Its been a month since our last check up, and things are almost back to normal. We thought each check up involved only her routine finger prick, but alas, now we know, it also involves the flushing of her port with heparin. So every month, the nurses will have to access the port to draw blood as well as flush it with heparin. Thankfully, she was busy playing with my i-phone, so that kept her distracted while the awful needle went in. Both Bern and I winced as it brought back reminders of her non-stop chemo sessions not too long ago. During the check-up with our oncologist, we were also told that we had to schedule her next Pet-CT scan in January. Of course I had to ask the question that had been on my mind--what is the percentage of relapse for Burkitt's? 5-10% we were told. That was supposed to give us comfort, but for some reason, it didn't. I guess what I wanted Prof Quah to say was, 5-10%, but we've never seen a relapse yet! Or something like that. But he didn't. He just informed us that if it were to come back, it would do so within the first two months. that was how aggressive Burkitt's is. We are past the 2 month mark and the next scan will really tell us what we need to know about the chance of relapse.
I had lunch with our case worker not too long ago and told her how I still can't sleep, still can't help worrying and being on high alert mode. She asked me how long I was going to be on this mode. 3 months? 1 year? 5 years? The truth is, once there is cancer, there is always the chance it might come back and I'm not sure I dare to let my guard down. The what-ifs are all too real. I know I have to release my little girl to God and release all my fears and let God be in control. right now, I'm not sure I know how to. Intellectually, yes. Emotionally? Am not so sure. its easy to sing a whole list of platitudes about trust, but the reality is not that simple, although you must give me full marks for trying! So it is a daily surrender that I have to do. A worry, a confession. A tear, a prayer. When I get that look, my little girl will tell me, "mummy, stop hyperventilating!" Indeed. My little girl, my rock.
I had lunch with our case worker not too long ago and told her how I still can't sleep, still can't help worrying and being on high alert mode. She asked me how long I was going to be on this mode. 3 months? 1 year? 5 years? The truth is, once there is cancer, there is always the chance it might come back and I'm not sure I dare to let my guard down. The what-ifs are all too real. I know I have to release my little girl to God and release all my fears and let God be in control. right now, I'm not sure I know how to. Intellectually, yes. Emotionally? Am not so sure. its easy to sing a whole list of platitudes about trust, but the reality is not that simple, although you must give me full marks for trying! So it is a daily surrender that I have to do. A worry, a confession. A tear, a prayer. When I get that look, my little girl will tell me, "mummy, stop hyperventilating!" Indeed. My little girl, my rock.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Make-a-wish princess party
Maeve's no-more-chemo party sponsored by make-a-wish foundation! We had the time of our lives and Maeve was practically delirious after that. The ultimate fantasy party for a little princess!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Whilst out for a stroll one day, I turned the wrong way and ended up backtracking quite a bit with Maeve. She wasn't very impressed.
"Mummy, I've got lots of mean things to say in my mouth that want to come out"
"Such as?"
Deliberate pause.
" I can't tell you because it will break your heart. And I don't want to do that."
Then my little girl takes my hand and bends to pluck a grass flower for me.
It is these moments that make motherhood really worth it!
Friday, October 29, 2010
The New Normal
These few days have been extremely blissful. We've been to the airport (we skip/hop from end to end--only on the black tiles as apparently if you step on the white ones you fall right through according to her royal highness, and that makes for a very tired mummy, hopping at my age is hazardous!), climbed the treehouse at VJC (and picked flowers there as well), had a lovely manicure/pedicure session courtesy of Vanessa, and ran through the sprinklers about a million times at the zoo. My little girl has now gotten back her rosy cheeks, her energy and I'm ashamed to admit, I teared when I watched her run and burst into fits of giggles (her, I mean, not me). It wasn't too long ago when I carried an almost colourless, battle-beaten little girl out of the hospital, princess plasters stuck all over her little body. "tears of joy mummy?" she asks me as she plops down beside me and leans over to plant a wet kiss on my cheek. "yes, sweetheart, I'm so glad there's no more chemo and no more cancer", "and i can eat yoghurt now!" said the gleeful one, her priorities obviously different.
So now, we're going to do all the things I've promised her we will do once she's well, and she has been extremely patient. People tell me I shouldn't bring her swimming, the zoo, let her run around so much, but hey, she missed out those few months of doing precisely those things and a child has to do what a child should do. Tonight she is staying at her cousin's and I'm a little nervous, given she's never stayed away from me before, and of course, I worry that she falls when I'm not looking, but I have to learn to let go and trust that she'll have a great time and she'll be fine.
So now, we're going to do all the things I've promised her we will do once she's well, and she has been extremely patient. People tell me I shouldn't bring her swimming, the zoo, let her run around so much, but hey, she missed out those few months of doing precisely those things and a child has to do what a child should do. Tonight she is staying at her cousin's and I'm a little nervous, given she's never stayed away from me before, and of course, I worry that she falls when I'm not looking, but I have to learn to let go and trust that she'll have a great time and she'll be fine.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Pet Scan results
...and the results are....100% in the clear! There is not a trace of cancer left in Maeve's body, and she is definitely, irrevocably, without a doubt, cured!!
On friday, the nurse who accompanied us to the radiology department and stayed with us throughout, coincidentally, had recovered from lymphoma as well, and has hit, the 5 year mark, where she is considered, a cancer-surviver. I took that as a sign, even before Maeve did her scan, that Maeve has already been cured. There have been other hints as well, such as when I hopped to my usual bookstore and chatted with the owner (who sported a shaven head), who told me that his little girl (now 19) had cancer at age 4 and, well, obviously, has been cured completely. I know I can't quite pop the champagne yet till she is declared completely in remission (after 1/2 year to 1 year of no relapse), I know in my heart that our battle is truely over. Looking at her, with the exception of a bald head, you wouldn't have a clue what she had been through the past few months. She's happy, giggly, sports rosy lips and has the sort of energy only 4 year olds can muster.
We're taking this time now to take stock of our lives and think about what we've learnt from the whole experience, what we should do differently, what new direction we should take. If we don't do something different, the whole experience of almost losing our little girl, would have been in vain. God wants to tell us something. I guess its up to us to figure out what. One thing I know for sure, I'm going to let my little girl enjoy her childhood and forget about angsting about her being monolingual or being unable to spell anything other then words like princess, love, castle and once upon a time! School can wait. Jobs can wait. Childhood cannot. Life cannot.
On friday, the nurse who accompanied us to the radiology department and stayed with us throughout, coincidentally, had recovered from lymphoma as well, and has hit, the 5 year mark, where she is considered, a cancer-surviver. I took that as a sign, even before Maeve did her scan, that Maeve has already been cured. There have been other hints as well, such as when I hopped to my usual bookstore and chatted with the owner (who sported a shaven head), who told me that his little girl (now 19) had cancer at age 4 and, well, obviously, has been cured completely. I know I can't quite pop the champagne yet till she is declared completely in remission (after 1/2 year to 1 year of no relapse), I know in my heart that our battle is truely over. Looking at her, with the exception of a bald head, you wouldn't have a clue what she had been through the past few months. She's happy, giggly, sports rosy lips and has the sort of energy only 4 year olds can muster.
We're taking this time now to take stock of our lives and think about what we've learnt from the whole experience, what we should do differently, what new direction we should take. If we don't do something different, the whole experience of almost losing our little girl, would have been in vain. God wants to tell us something. I guess its up to us to figure out what. One thing I know for sure, I'm going to let my little girl enjoy her childhood and forget about angsting about her being monolingual or being unable to spell anything other then words like princess, love, castle and once upon a time! School can wait. Jobs can wait. Childhood cannot. Life cannot.
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