Testimonies Part 1

I remember when Lizzie and Alex came home from visiting their dad in Hawaii August of 2011. Lizzie was repeatedly throwing up. (I think that's the trip when Lizzie threw up in Alex's purse on the plane.) Said she was sick in Hawaii but blamed motion-sickness. Looking back, she started getting really tired in 11th grade - hair thinning, no energy, sleeping a lot. She was trying to keep up with ther schoolwork and participate in Panther Pride. We both thought maybe she was just over extending herself. So fastforward to her senior year. I had made an appointment with her doctor on a Monday, but she was so terribly sick that I took her to Urgent Doc. There they drew blood and ran some tests which came back with elevated liver levels. I can't remember what they thought was wrong with her, but they were concerned about the liver levels. Took that information to the doctor that Monday, and they ordered more blood tests. This continued for approximatley 7 months. Blood test after blood test. Doctor after doctor. Stomach virus - no, abdominal migraines, strep - one "diagnosis" after another. Me so frustrated with the medical profession that no one could figure out what was wrong with my child and fix her. That fall Mom, sister, Alex, Chrissii, Lizzie, and I went to see "Wicked" in Austin. That entire weekend Lizzie was so sick. I called the on-call nurse at our doctor's office - griping - that this was ridiculous and that they needed to do something. The nurse sais she had strep. Bring her in. She was referred to Texas Children's in Sugarland. Traveled there twice with no answers.In fact, I refused to take her back because the doctor there really didn't examine her or anything - just ordered more blood tests. Finally was referred to a gastrointerologist here. He was about to order more blood tests....again....and I remember getting a little perturbed. I was so concerned about the throwing up - how it affects the esophogus, teeth, gag reflex, etc. And the days missed of school. Lizzie was working so hard to graduate with honors. Missing all those days was stressing her out more. So...the doctor orders a CT, MRI, and endoscopy. Lizzie had the CT first. I watched over the shoulder, never realizing all the click-click-clicks were the measuring of a tumor. The next week Lizzie had the MRI then on to the endoscopy.I had scheduled them on one day to try to not miss yet another day. Lizzie was just coming around from the endoscopy when the doctor came in and told us that her general doctor wanted to see us immediately. Ok, I like all the doctors at the clinic where the girls had been going for years. I can tolerate some more than others. So, when told we were to go to the doctor's, I got a little angry, argumentative, "b.......". Lizzie either had a reaction to the sedative or she was simply throwing up again. I can remember saying "I am not taking my child there to sit in the waiting room for 2 hours so that Dr. So-So can talk to us for 5 minutes." Blah, blah, blah. Gripe gripe, gripe. (not one of my finest moments). But I was told to take Lizzie to the back door (didn't know there was one) and they would let us in and immediately take us to a room. So, we go. Back door - immediately to room - Lizzie lays down and falls asleep. Pillow and blanket brought in. Doctor comes in and breaks the news. Enter Salvador Dali. From that moment on I have felt like I was in some surreal world. I'm sitting there. Staring at the doctor. Lizzie staring at me. Thinking that no, this is not my life. Wanting to cry but not crying because my child needs me to be strong. Lizzie being as calm as can be. Big question - how did this extrememely rare form of cancer find MY CHILD?

How are you doing?

One of Lizzie's good friends from Texas Children's Hospital called me today. It was good to hear her voice and to catch up on what's been going on. She was so instrumental in helping Lizzie keep a sense of balance in her life and also to help Lizzie remember she was still a teenage person with teenage wishes and dreams. She really helped Lizzie cope with being a teenager with cancer. Saraben was a good soundingboard for Lizzie. And, as most conversations start these days, it began with Saraben asking, "How are you doing?" I ask myself that question every day. Exactly how am I doing? I go to work every day. We've started extended day, so I teach that 4 days per week. I've primed my livingroom - getting it ready for new color. (I may just leave it white.)I've babysat my grandson twice now and loved every minute of that. Alex and I are about to embark on our New Orleans adventure during Spring Break, and I'm definetley looking forward to that. Life goes on. You wake up every day and go to sleep every night. As long as I am busy, I'm ok. It's the quiet times that get me. Those quiet moments when a memory of Lizzie will drift in. A moment like gleefully opening my teacher friend's girlscout cookies and noticing a box of Lizzie's favorite kind in the bag. Hearing a song on the radio that just so happened to be Lizzie's ringtone for my phone... and wishing it was my phone ringing. Walker spoke of this very well in his eulogy at Lizzie's service. He spoke about when the Apostle Paul asked, "Death, oh Death, where is your sting?" Those stings do get me. It's walking into her room and wanting to see her there. It's a favorite shared show and wanting to talk to her about it. It's missing tucking her in every night - yes, my 19 year old still insisted on being tucked in. It's saying "Goodnight Pumpkin Seed (I called her something different each night). I love you." and hearing her answer "I luuvv you". (She had a way of drawing out the love part). It's remembering her hand reaching out to grasp mine. And, to be honest folks, there are times that I actively reach out for those memories. There are times when I do want to feel the sting that accompanies death. There are times when I call out - screaming inside my head - for Lizzie. I will purposefully wander into her room just so I can feel the tears wellup in my eyes and my chest begin to hurt. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to be ok. I will proceed with life. I will enjoy spending time with family and friends. Who knows? Maybe I will go back to school or move to a foreign country. (I keep telling my family I am moving to central America and opening up a fruit stand.) But I don't ever want to be ok with losing Lizzie. I want to continue to feel the sting left by Lizzie's absence. And that is ok.

This is Lizzie's Mom

I could not just let Lizzie's blog drift quietly off into cybersunset. So, for a little while, I will continue to post through Lizzie's blog. Maybe it will become as therapeutic for me as it was for Lizzie.

Yes, I binge ate crackers in bed last night

Yes, my bed is all crumby now. No, I don't care.

Most of you don't know, but I got another blood clot in my other leg. It ran the length of my leg. I don't have it anymore, but things are just not working in my favor this summer. I also had a negative reaction to new medicine. I could barely open my eyes they were so light sensitive. I'm no longer on it, THANK GOD. I just hope things turn around soon.

Something New

More than a month ago I was in the hospital dying. My doctor had to pull my family aside and tell them I had began the process of dying and my best friend had to call all of my other friends to tell them that I was dying. We all knew it was coming, but not so suddenly. I had gone from walking a.round campus to lying on my death bed in a week. Anyways they brought me home on hospice and by the grace of God I actually got better. There was still a ton wrong with me, but I was improving day by day. For a while I was depressed though. I wished I had died. I was tired of depending on others for everything and being confined to my house all day every day. I kept telling my mom I wish I had died because I really wish I had. I wanted to be in heaven, not stuck in my bed and attached to a whole bunch of wires.
 I was sad. I was moody. I was angry.
But now things are different. I'm basically how I was before I went to the hospital but I still have to live a different life. Something I'm not used to. I have limits. I know them. I know when it's time for me to go home or take medicine.  My friends know this too and they look out for me. And sometimes that makes me angry and hard to deal with. For that I apologize. Then there are my other friends that treat me regularly, and I really love them because I feel normal, but these aren't always the best friends to hang around.
Anyways I have to live a new life. A life with extreme limits. A life that makes me angry a ton of the time. A life that keeps me tired ALL of the time. I'm only 19, I'm not ready to live like this. I don't want to live like this. I want to be normal. I want to go back to school in the fall. I want to go to parties and not leave early. I want to be able to just breathe.

 I want to be fixed. I ask myself daily if I'm ready to live this life. And the answer is always no.

HEY I'M BACK.

Sorry it's been a while, I hit a few speed bumps this past month that kept me down for a while. And by speed bumps I mean mountains. I've been highly medicated for the past month and can't tell you anything that's happened really for the past few weeks besides the fact that I'm apparently hilarious while on morphine. And apparently I got engaged to a pro soccer player? I honestly don't remember that happening though.
I literally just remembered that my birthday passed two days ago, I've been that out of it. I was really bad off for a bit, like my doctors were giving me weeks to live bad off, but I'm bouncing back. Obviously I don't have the strength I did before, but I'm doing so much better. I'm off basically all medicine and I'm not sick when I move. I'm just glad to be better.

Let's get personal

Today I moved most of my stuff out of my dorm. The place that I've called home for basically the past year. The place that my heart warms up when seeing is about to no longer be my home. My house in Lufkin is about to be my home forever (or however long my forever may be.) Because of this I am sad. I have been very sad lately just because of how things are going. I see myself losing my abilities do so simple things everyday. I can't leave my dorm for more than an hour or two without needing a four hour nap. I have to take higher dosage nausea pills now because my old ones don't work. If I'm eating, it's not because I'm hungry, it's because I know that I'll be sick until I put something in my stomach. I'm losing weight. I'm losing energy. I'm lost in general.
I have no motivation to do well on finals. I really see no point in studying. I'd rather just sleep. Or watch tv. I just want to lay in bed all day and take an abundance of showers because those make me feel better.  But soon I'll be out of college and truly be floating, and I wrestle with the idea daily.
I know God has a plan and I trust it, but there's still a part of me that's sad every time something doesn't work out. Africa is a no go and because of that my heart is broken. I cry basically every time I talk about it or think about it (so basically every day). It's seriously something that I've always wanted. More than kids. More than marriage. I wanted to visit Africa. I'm  positive that my heart is there and can't be fixed because a part of me will always want to be there.
Because I can't control most of the things that are happening to me, I've tried to do so in other ways. I broke up with my boyfriend a week (or two) ago. Sometimes I wonder if it was the right choice, but I think I function best alone in times like this. I'm cutting the metaphorical ties that weren't really keeping me from doing anything, but they're cut. Maybe I did it so I wouldn't feel as though I would have to worry as much or think of a whole bunch of people when making decisions, but either way it's already been done so does reason matter? I'm sure if I'm meant to have a significant other during these next few years, then something will happen, but as for now I really think I'm supposed to do this by myself.
So this is me. This is what lost looks like. Hopefully soon, I  know what floating feels like. Because I know that I'm not doing that now. There are still a few more things that I need to let go of before I can really float on and depend solely on God's plan. And I know that's going to be hard because I'm a planner and this not knowing what's going to happen next thing is kind of killing me. Instead of floating I feel like I'm walking into the ocean with my pockets full of every single thing that will keep me grounded, but I'm emptying my pockets one by one. Slowly but surely, these pockets will eventually be empty.

Sorry for the depressing blog post! I might take a step back from blogging until I can write some more uplifting things. I like feeling happy and I like writing happy things, but I just haven't been feeling it lately. And if this is how most people are going to remember me, then I don't want to be remembered like this.

Also, my birthday is coming up. I'll be nineteen on May 9 and I think it would be really cool if you could just leave me the title of a book you would want me to have and why. I'm dedicating my summer to reading and I would love hear what y'all love and why you think I would love it.