So I often refer as the thing that manifests inside me as, Flannery. Or for people that quickly forget, my cancer.
It all started with a simple phone call from my Neighbor on the fateful night when I was told I had cancer.
"How you doing kiddo?" Jarod said.
Oh man, poor Jarod. I started to sob and cry.
"I miss you guys!!"
Anyways we started talking about cancer and I kept on referring to it as my cancer.
"You can't call it My Cancer."
"Oh? Why not?"
"It just doesn't really sound right. You gotta name it."
Okay, Jarod had a point. I was as far as a normal teenager as I could possibly get. I mean, for three days of a year I dress up in a box for like 10 hours. But that's for a different time far into the future.
"Well, what did your mom call it?"
"Oh well. Something along like f-ing cancer."
I started to laugh.
"I don't think my oncologist would appreciate that. He's a Mormon." And so was I.
"Pah. You Mormons!"
But we were both having a laugh.
And that conversation carried on to another one of my friends, Venus. Venus has been that friend that came in at an awesome time in my life, and then a not so awesome time too. I met Venus in one of our art classes in seventh grade and became best friends over a video game character she drew that I recognized. Our friendship grew with another one of my childhood best friends and we would practically hang out everyday. Most of the time, me coming to pick her up and trying to barge into her house. Because well... it made her and I laugh.
Anyways Venus came to see me I believe the day right after I was told. And we were outside.
"Venus. You gotta help me name my cancer."
"How about Bill?"
"Nah. What about Wilfred?"
"Ah yeah! Wilfred!!"
"And I can be like at school walking around saying. 'Ah man. I hate Wilfred. He kicks me all the time and he's just a real jerk. He just won't leave me alone!' and all you guys would be like. 'Annika, Who's Wilfred? I can, you know... kick him if you need me to."
"And then I'd fire at them. 'Wilfred is apart of me. Wilfred is inside of me."
We laughed and laughed at that. It was all fun.
Till I told my mother.
"That's hilarious! But you can't name it Wilfred."
"Why not?"
"It's too close to your father's middle name. Wilford. Unless, of course.. That's what you were going for."
It was not. But I was a little disappointed. Wilfred was such a good name.
But then I thought of an even better name besides Wilfred.
I have a friend name Dan. He's like... 7'9 million feet tall. Nah, he's more like 6'6 maybe? And still growing? He's going to be like the Jolly Green Giant. An all out love-able guy with a hilarious Bronchitis cough that just won't go away.
Now Dan has a sister as well. And he told me a story one day in Seminary.
"My sister and I named our stomachs."
"Really Dan. What are their names?"
(( Forgive me Dan if I mix up or get the names wrong in anyway.))
"Her stomach's name is Francois. And mine is Floyd. It has to be an F name if you're going to name your stomach."
Now skip to about almost half a year later to me sitting at the computer looking up baby boy names that start with the letter F.
And then I found it.
Flannery.
Flannery meaning: No meaning found.
Origin: Irish.
This was perfect. It was an F name, it was a name for my cancer, and most importantly... it was Irish.
Now I have thick red hair that people often mistake me for being Irish.
I always hated Saint Patrick's Day in Junior High. Standing in the lunch line as the man making sure you didn't cut the line or go over a certain point would mentally judge you to see if you were Irish or if he could make some sort of conversation with you. Even though, that's totally not the point of why you're in the lunch line in the first place.
It was my turn to wait at the empty space. Waiting to get my hot lunch when the man decided to fire away his question.
"Are you Irish?? You have red hair."
I really wanted to roll my eyes. But instead, I gave him a full Severts Genealogy run down in about ten seconds.
"No. I'm Dutch/Norwegian/German/Welsh/English/Viking/Scottish. NOT. Irish."
Beat that Mr. Lunch Man.
"What's your last name?"
"Severts."
"Dutch?"
Thank goodness it was my turn to join the others on the other side for the food.
I really disliked talking to the weird adults that stood, watching you over like a hawk to make sure you didn't break any sort of silent lunch room rule.
So Flannery was the name for me to chose. Naming my Cancer Flannery was amazing. At the same time I was pushing out the cancer from my body... but also pushing away that 'Fake' Irish ancestry that people always seem to think I have.
YOU'D BE MORE THAN WRONG TO THINK I'M IRISH.
I'm Dutch/Norwegian/German/Welsh/English/Viking/Scottish. And don't you forget it.
Annika Severts.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Kindness of People
If anyone knows me really well they know that I have a passion for the musical theater. I'm not much of a singer, but I do love to give a helping hand backstage and watch the show unfold into magic. Most of the music on my iPod is of Soundtracks and Musicals. Usually my favorite musicals consist of Les Mesirables, Promises Promises, The Addams Family, The Music Man, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
I can honestly say, that today The Music Man is my favorite musical of all time.
I am an enthusiastic musical gower, especially if the beloved Brands are in them. But because of my cancer, I'm not able to go to many musical events for awhile. And that breaks my heart in a thousand pieces. But sweet Barbara contacted my mom and offered to have a few of the cast come up and sing for me. I was very quick to say what my favorite songs were from the music man.
The Quartet
The Sadder but Wiser Girl for Me
Madame Librarian
And today I was visited by the lovely people to sing to me.
They sang all I requested and was surprised when the little boy who played Winthrop offered and wanted to sing for me.
I was so close to crying but I didn't wanted to seem like a cry baby. But then I realized that would've been the greatest gift to give them instead of repeatedly saying thank you awkwardly over and over. But I did have the biggest smile on my face.
I just wanted to thank the Brands for putting together that little show, you can be certain that it will never leave my heart and mind for as long as I live.
That was probably the greatest gift anyone has ever given to me, and I plan to cherish the memory forever.
Also, could you thank each and everyone of those men and boy for coming to sing? I feel stupid for being shy and not saying much. But I really was astounded by it all.
In fact, I still feel like crying because it was beautiful and just what I needed.
Thank you so much.
Annika Severts
I can honestly say, that today The Music Man is my favorite musical of all time.
I am an enthusiastic musical gower, especially if the beloved Brands are in them. But because of my cancer, I'm not able to go to many musical events for awhile. And that breaks my heart in a thousand pieces. But sweet Barbara contacted my mom and offered to have a few of the cast come up and sing for me. I was very quick to say what my favorite songs were from the music man.
The Quartet
The Sadder but Wiser Girl for Me
Madame Librarian
And today I was visited by the lovely people to sing to me.
They sang all I requested and was surprised when the little boy who played Winthrop offered and wanted to sing for me.
I was so close to crying but I didn't wanted to seem like a cry baby. But then I realized that would've been the greatest gift to give them instead of repeatedly saying thank you awkwardly over and over. But I did have the biggest smile on my face.
I just wanted to thank the Brands for putting together that little show, you can be certain that it will never leave my heart and mind for as long as I live.
That was probably the greatest gift anyone has ever given to me, and I plan to cherish the memory forever.
Also, could you thank each and everyone of those men and boy for coming to sing? I feel stupid for being shy and not saying much. But I really was astounded by it all.
In fact, I still feel like crying because it was beautiful and just what I needed.
Thank you so much.
Annika Severts
The Pranks
When you're in the hospital for about three-four days. You get bored. I mean I wasn't bored with my adorable nurses running around the Cancer Ward trying to make me comfortable and happy. But of course, I had my own source of entertainment. My mother.
Now most normal people would leave their mother alone in a stressful situation and ask her how she was. No. Of course. Me being me. I had to have my own little fun.
Prank one:
I was amusingly told that I was poisonous to people. My sweat, my saliva, and my bodily fluids were dangers to others because they could become exposed. I thought this was awesome, I was like some sort of exotic poisonous frog. Oh yeah.
Now having a port in your left shoulder hurts. And since day one, I didn't really have much help getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. I was on my own.
My mother, as sweet as can be, offered her arms in a crossed fashion and told her to grab on.
Me, seeing no point in this since I've been getting myself out of bed since day one, leaned forward and playfully bit the first layer of her clothes. OKAY. Before anyone of you start freaking out, my mother was wearing a jacket and a long sleeved shirt underneath. I was very gentle and I wiped the spit off her sleeve and she was safe.
Now Denise came into the room.
"SHE BIT ME!!!!"
"Did she break the skin?"
"NO! BUT SHE BIT ME!!"
"If she didn't break the skin, you're okay."
I was laughing my head off. My mother was not amused.
Prank two:
Let me tell you about the beds in the hospital. When I was first admitted back in april for my re-occuring psuedo tumor cerebri. my bed was stationary, it didn't move up or down or side to side.
My cancer bed did.
My cancer bed inflated, deflated, moved, stretched, and made loud noises. I mean it was nice a little, but I'm more of a stationary bed girl. I asked Denise why the bed moved and she informed me because it was so that people who couldn't move wouldn't get blood clots. Now, that's a perfectly fine idea... except when you can move.
This is a little bit of an extention from "The Other Days" when I talked about my almost exploding bladder and my terrible nausea.
I had returned from the bathroom with good ol' Robbert by my side as I sat on the bed and just relaxed a bit, One leg over the bed and the other on the bed. Now I wasn't saying much and it apparently freaked my dear mother out.
And then I started to sway a little....
and my eyes rolled to the back of my head...
and I started to fall over to the left side.
Now my mother began to freak out and was going to catch me when I suddenly fixed myself up, looked at her with a big grin, and started to laugh.
She was furious and began to chew me out saying what would happen if that was real? I was freaking her out with my fake out.
And that's when I told my mom about the moving bed and that I had complete control over the whole situation. I was just bored and I decided to go for a little bed ride.
Either way my mom was not amused and began to tell everyone the story of how I freaked her out. My pranks made me look like a bad child. But I wasn't. I was merely having fun.
And now to finished chapter three: The mix up.
This prank was not planned by me or my mother. It was a surprise on both parties involved and was entirely the fault of the volunteer nurse.
The surgical waiting room, if you're wondering, is much like an departure and arrival room for the airports. Here's your flight, is it delayed? Is in the sky yet? Is it descending?
My little story begins when I was in luggage claim mode. I was recovering and was waiting for my mother to come.
About two minutes later a nurse opened the curtains to my room and proudly proclaimed.
"HERE'S YOUR DAUGHTER!!!"
There was a father, a mother, and possibly a third person.
The father began to exclaim, "THAT'S NOT MY DAUGHTER!!"
Slightly appalled and highly amused by the situation of this all I then pointed at the four of them and said, "THAT'S NOT MY FATHER. MY FATHER'S DEAD!!!"
Needless to say they were gone in a snap, my curtains were closed and the family was returned to the 'airport'.
Now it was my mother who returned to me.
Huffed and puffed and angry.
"That nurse should be fired!! She didn't even ask those people if they had a daughter named Annika! She just whisked them away and sent them here! Not me!!" My mother was being, as Mike Brand said, Feisty.
"I asked her, "So I heard you tried to give my daughter away! Nothing. No word of apology when I could clearly hear her tell the other family about being so sorry about the mix up!! Did she apologize to you?"
I said no.
"See? What a terrible nurse!!"
"Mom.. She was a volunteer."
"STILL NOT AN A EXCUSE!"
"I wanted to punch her in her little face!" My mother told me.
My mom is awesome.
I'm finally at home, it's monday 29 12:23 PM and i'll be doing my homework shortly so that I'll be caught up with my classes for tuesday, wednesday, and thursday. I'm so excited. I don't think people realize how amazing school is. I missed school for almost half a year in 10th grade, and now I'll be doing the same in 11th grade. It really breaks my heart. For me school is a get away and a small little haven to escape the world from all it's worries and cares.
So next time you groan about that essay you have to write or the fact you have to get up in the morning, think of me. Awake since 6:34 am. Just waiting to return to school. To be allowed to go to school. Just itching to go to school. Please don't have a bad attitude about school. It really is a wonderful place if you have all the right friends and teachers.
Annika Severts
Now most normal people would leave their mother alone in a stressful situation and ask her how she was. No. Of course. Me being me. I had to have my own little fun.
Prank one:
I was amusingly told that I was poisonous to people. My sweat, my saliva, and my bodily fluids were dangers to others because they could become exposed. I thought this was awesome, I was like some sort of exotic poisonous frog. Oh yeah.
Now having a port in your left shoulder hurts. And since day one, I didn't really have much help getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. I was on my own.
My mother, as sweet as can be, offered her arms in a crossed fashion and told her to grab on.
Me, seeing no point in this since I've been getting myself out of bed since day one, leaned forward and playfully bit the first layer of her clothes. OKAY. Before anyone of you start freaking out, my mother was wearing a jacket and a long sleeved shirt underneath. I was very gentle and I wiped the spit off her sleeve and she was safe.
Now Denise came into the room.
"SHE BIT ME!!!!"
"Did she break the skin?"
"NO! BUT SHE BIT ME!!"
"If she didn't break the skin, you're okay."
I was laughing my head off. My mother was not amused.
Prank two:
Let me tell you about the beds in the hospital. When I was first admitted back in april for my re-occuring psuedo tumor cerebri. my bed was stationary, it didn't move up or down or side to side.
My cancer bed did.
My cancer bed inflated, deflated, moved, stretched, and made loud noises. I mean it was nice a little, but I'm more of a stationary bed girl. I asked Denise why the bed moved and she informed me because it was so that people who couldn't move wouldn't get blood clots. Now, that's a perfectly fine idea... except when you can move.
This is a little bit of an extention from "The Other Days" when I talked about my almost exploding bladder and my terrible nausea.
I had returned from the bathroom with good ol' Robbert by my side as I sat on the bed and just relaxed a bit, One leg over the bed and the other on the bed. Now I wasn't saying much and it apparently freaked my dear mother out.
And then I started to sway a little....
and my eyes rolled to the back of my head...
and I started to fall over to the left side.
Now my mother began to freak out and was going to catch me when I suddenly fixed myself up, looked at her with a big grin, and started to laugh.
She was furious and began to chew me out saying what would happen if that was real? I was freaking her out with my fake out.
And that's when I told my mom about the moving bed and that I had complete control over the whole situation. I was just bored and I decided to go for a little bed ride.
Either way my mom was not amused and began to tell everyone the story of how I freaked her out. My pranks made me look like a bad child. But I wasn't. I was merely having fun.
And now to finished chapter three: The mix up.
This prank was not planned by me or my mother. It was a surprise on both parties involved and was entirely the fault of the volunteer nurse.
The surgical waiting room, if you're wondering, is much like an departure and arrival room for the airports. Here's your flight, is it delayed? Is in the sky yet? Is it descending?
My little story begins when I was in luggage claim mode. I was recovering and was waiting for my mother to come.
About two minutes later a nurse opened the curtains to my room and proudly proclaimed.
"HERE'S YOUR DAUGHTER!!!"
There was a father, a mother, and possibly a third person.
The father began to exclaim, "THAT'S NOT MY DAUGHTER!!"
Slightly appalled and highly amused by the situation of this all I then pointed at the four of them and said, "THAT'S NOT MY FATHER. MY FATHER'S DEAD!!!"
Needless to say they were gone in a snap, my curtains were closed and the family was returned to the 'airport'.
Now it was my mother who returned to me.
Huffed and puffed and angry.
"That nurse should be fired!! She didn't even ask those people if they had a daughter named Annika! She just whisked them away and sent them here! Not me!!" My mother was being, as Mike Brand said, Feisty.
"I asked her, "So I heard you tried to give my daughter away! Nothing. No word of apology when I could clearly hear her tell the other family about being so sorry about the mix up!! Did she apologize to you?"
I said no.
"See? What a terrible nurse!!"
"Mom.. She was a volunteer."
"STILL NOT AN A EXCUSE!"
"I wanted to punch her in her little face!" My mother told me.
My mom is awesome.
I'm finally at home, it's monday 29 12:23 PM and i'll be doing my homework shortly so that I'll be caught up with my classes for tuesday, wednesday, and thursday. I'm so excited. I don't think people realize how amazing school is. I missed school for almost half a year in 10th grade, and now I'll be doing the same in 11th grade. It really breaks my heart. For me school is a get away and a small little haven to escape the world from all it's worries and cares.
So next time you groan about that essay you have to write or the fact you have to get up in the morning, think of me. Awake since 6:34 am. Just waiting to return to school. To be allowed to go to school. Just itching to go to school. Please don't have a bad attitude about school. It really is a wonderful place if you have all the right friends and teachers.
Annika Severts
Sunday, August 28, 2011
The other days
Day two in the hospital meant for me to start my chemo.
I don't remember much in the beginning as I was asleep mostly from my waking up every hour and talking to Russel when every Robbert would start beeping. I remember waking up to seeing a man that I've come to known and love very much. Grassey Knowels. (( I'm sorry Mike Brand you officially visited first on the first day but not first on the chemo day. Grassey gets all the presents. But your visit was the very first no-chemo and was very appreciated. Especially being able to see my mom being all feisty. ))
I woke up to a Colonel Grassey. He came over and kissed me on the forehead. He originally gave me a scripture to read the day before Hospitalization started. D&C 122: 7-8. It really stuck with me and even know it still kind of makes me teary eyed, I love Grassey for giving me that Scripture. Apparently he had been there for my mom when she broke down after they started Chemo. And I'm so thankful Grassey was there and Mike Brand also for those tender moments my mom went through when I couldn't be there.
I'll confess. I'm not very vocal about my feelings and don't tend to show when I'm distressed, sad, or angry. But I always show happiness, but there are about three men who can easily rip down those walls and make me cry for no apparent reason what so ever. Mike Brand, John Hruby, and now Grassey Knowles. I finally figured out why these men make me cry. If some people don't know, I lost my father in a plane crash three years ago. He was an amazing man. And I'm so sad he's no longer physically with me in my life. But with Mike, John, and Grassey make up my father. And These three men I want to hold forever dear in my heart.
Anyways, back to the Cancer story that you were all so interested earlier.
They started Chemo and their original nausea medicine wasn't working. I was in so much nausea and I had to pee, really bad. Now my nausea was so bad I was debating whether or not to pee my pants because it was so bad. Would I rather throw up or pee my pants? I was going to wait till my nausea past until my nurses told me the dangers of keeping the fluids in my body. I forced me to go, and then I felt better. And then I was introduced into a wonderful drug called, ATIVAN.
I was soo loopy and I if you ever get the chance to take it, PLEASE. Take it. It's so magical. It's just... UGH. It's the stuff guys. It's part Pain killer, Anxiety relief, and nausea. Of course I only take it for pain and nausea. But I get really loopy.
Like for example; I sang this in the hallway. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhKbtakmU34
I was in pediatrics Cancer ward where a lot of the patients are terminal or really bad off. I have the golden cancer. So me being of Ativman I started to sing this song but I start to sing, "Gory gory what a hell of way to die. Gory what a hell of way to die. Gory gory what a hell of way to die, We ain't gonna fight no more." Needless it was high inappropriate but it kept my mom laughing. That was all that mattered.
The next couple of days blended. But I met another three nurses that I absolutely love.
Ed, the Ukraine who lived on the border of Russia who's father was Russian and Mother Ukraine. He moved to the United States when he was 28 years old. My mom liked Ed, also Barbara too. Ed was the nurse who check my blood. So when he came in with his accent he said, "Annika, I've come to check your blood." Barbara and my mom had a hard time keeping it in.
Denise, was one of my favorites nurses. I could make her laugh, and she snorted when she laughed. I really hope she's my RN my next visit. She's been working there for 11 years now. I scared her by locking the bathroom door, (Which is a habit) and she needed to scan my wrist. She couldn't get the door opened and I laughed. I open the door and stuck my wrist out for her, snickering. ( I was told I was her first Pediatric patient by my mom
I also really loved Harmony. She was loud and proud and very pretty especially for like two in the morning. She was adopted between her older sister and younger sister. She has two kids and she was a hoot.
I hope I get Denise, Harmony, Ed and even Russel for my treatments in the hospital. They made me laugh and I made them laugh.
The days kind of blurred together but I had visitors, Paul Bigelow and his adorable wife, Alissa Gertch and her husband, Half of the brands, my brother Grant, Grandparents, Georgette and Vivianne, John and Stephanie Hruby, and Grassey and his daughter Alyssa Knowles. Some of you were there during low times and some of you were there during high times, and I'm so glad you guys came. It really did help a lot.
Tomorrow I will write more little pranks and stories that I played on my mom and my mom's few bad moments. ((But they're funny now.)) And I'll talk about my t-shirts that I plan to make.
Look forward to my next chapter, as this is kind of like a documentary for me and hopefully it will somehow help a patient with stage three lymphoma. I hope so. Or maybe it's just a vlog for my lovely friends.
Annika Severts
I don't remember much in the beginning as I was asleep mostly from my waking up every hour and talking to Russel when every Robbert would start beeping. I remember waking up to seeing a man that I've come to known and love very much. Grassey Knowels. (( I'm sorry Mike Brand you officially visited first on the first day but not first on the chemo day. Grassey gets all the presents. But your visit was the very first no-chemo and was very appreciated. Especially being able to see my mom being all feisty. ))
I woke up to a Colonel Grassey. He came over and kissed me on the forehead. He originally gave me a scripture to read the day before Hospitalization started. D&C 122: 7-8. It really stuck with me and even know it still kind of makes me teary eyed, I love Grassey for giving me that Scripture. Apparently he had been there for my mom when she broke down after they started Chemo. And I'm so thankful Grassey was there and Mike Brand also for those tender moments my mom went through when I couldn't be there.
I'll confess. I'm not very vocal about my feelings and don't tend to show when I'm distressed, sad, or angry. But I always show happiness, but there are about three men who can easily rip down those walls and make me cry for no apparent reason what so ever. Mike Brand, John Hruby, and now Grassey Knowles. I finally figured out why these men make me cry. If some people don't know, I lost my father in a plane crash three years ago. He was an amazing man. And I'm so sad he's no longer physically with me in my life. But with Mike, John, and Grassey make up my father. And These three men I want to hold forever dear in my heart.
Anyways, back to the Cancer story that you were all so interested earlier.
They started Chemo and their original nausea medicine wasn't working. I was in so much nausea and I had to pee, really bad. Now my nausea was so bad I was debating whether or not to pee my pants because it was so bad. Would I rather throw up or pee my pants? I was going to wait till my nausea past until my nurses told me the dangers of keeping the fluids in my body. I forced me to go, and then I felt better. And then I was introduced into a wonderful drug called, ATIVAN.
I was soo loopy and I if you ever get the chance to take it, PLEASE. Take it. It's so magical. It's just... UGH. It's the stuff guys. It's part Pain killer, Anxiety relief, and nausea. Of course I only take it for pain and nausea. But I get really loopy.
Like for example; I sang this in the hallway. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhKbtakmU34
I was in pediatrics Cancer ward where a lot of the patients are terminal or really bad off. I have the golden cancer. So me being of Ativman I started to sing this song but I start to sing, "Gory gory what a hell of way to die. Gory what a hell of way to die. Gory gory what a hell of way to die, We ain't gonna fight no more." Needless it was high inappropriate but it kept my mom laughing. That was all that mattered.
The next couple of days blended. But I met another three nurses that I absolutely love.
Ed, the Ukraine who lived on the border of Russia who's father was Russian and Mother Ukraine. He moved to the United States when he was 28 years old. My mom liked Ed, also Barbara too. Ed was the nurse who check my blood. So when he came in with his accent he said, "Annika, I've come to check your blood." Barbara and my mom had a hard time keeping it in.
Denise, was one of my favorites nurses. I could make her laugh, and she snorted when she laughed. I really hope she's my RN my next visit. She's been working there for 11 years now. I scared her by locking the bathroom door, (Which is a habit) and she needed to scan my wrist. She couldn't get the door opened and I laughed. I open the door and stuck my wrist out for her, snickering. ( I was told I was her first Pediatric patient by my mom
I also really loved Harmony. She was loud and proud and very pretty especially for like two in the morning. She was adopted between her older sister and younger sister. She has two kids and she was a hoot.
I hope I get Denise, Harmony, Ed and even Russel for my treatments in the hospital. They made me laugh and I made them laugh.
The days kind of blurred together but I had visitors, Paul Bigelow and his adorable wife, Alissa Gertch and her husband, Half of the brands, my brother Grant, Grandparents, Georgette and Vivianne, John and Stephanie Hruby, and Grassey and his daughter Alyssa Knowles. Some of you were there during low times and some of you were there during high times, and I'm so glad you guys came. It really did help a lot.
Tomorrow I will write more little pranks and stories that I played on my mom and my mom's few bad moments. ((But they're funny now.)) And I'll talk about my t-shirts that I plan to make.
Look forward to my next chapter, as this is kind of like a documentary for me and hopefully it will somehow help a patient with stage three lymphoma. I hope so. Or maybe it's just a vlog for my lovely friends.
Annika Severts
Russel the Chicken and Fruit Parfait
Day and Night One
I was quickly sent to Saint Luke's Pediatrics Surgery on Thursday to put in my port. Mine is called the Power Port. Or what I like to call my Ironman port. A port is an easily access point that is put underneath the skin next to your collarbone. Mine is placed in my Right collar bone so that it doesn't influence my heart. This is so they don't poke me so often and just place the iv and chemicals through my body without putting a lot of holes into my arms. It's a plus as I don't like ivs in my arms or a lot of needle work. So I was more than happy to comply to their wishes of a port.
The first night I won't lie was terrible. Waking up every hour of the night becoming excited because it was 7 am but it ended up being two instead. That was always a heart breaker. But my little nurses always created a small get away from me. Especially Russel. Some people might of heard of his name because I said on facebook he reminded me of a baby chicken. Usually when Robbert ( my robot that told me when my iv fluids were getting low or a air bubble was found in one of my tubs. ) went off in the early mornings Russel would appear. I would make some small chit chat. I asked Russel how he was. He immediately began to jabber on.
"It's my first day on this floor. I normally don't work on this floor and I really don't know anyone here. It's a challenge." I felt rather like my father when Russel came into the room. Russel was like a clumsy, lost baby chicken. And I thought it was adorable.
"Well, meeting people is always kind of a frightening thing at first, but you'll get used to it." I chuckled, I sometimes get these feeling of like a father towards certain people. As weird thing since I'm a female, but I know how to act in the right situations.
"BEEP BEEP."
Robbert called upon me to wake up and get the nurse.
It was Russel.
"Hello Russel." I would say. "Are you getting a long better?"
"Yes. I've learned a few new names but I sometimes forget where things are or some numbers that I have to put in."
Russel had glasses and nice curly brown hair.
"I really wish I was a morning person." Russel said with a soft sigh as he put Robbert back into sleep. "Are you a morning person?"
"Ah. I'm actually both. As long as I get enough sleep I can either wake up anytime of the day and go do the things I need to do."
"Coffee? Do you like coffee?"
"No. I don't drink coffee. I can thank my father's genes for being able to wake up at anytime of the day or night. But I like my sleep. And coffee makes me throw up."
I've never had more than a sip of coffee until my grandparents went to MacDonalds. I asked for a Fruit Parfait. "A WHAT?" my grandpa yelled. "A FRUIT PARFAIT." "Oh okay. I'll get you a fruit parfait." But it wasn't a fruit parfait. It was Frappe. Thinking back to my other spinal taps
drinking caffeine helps with wounds. I drank about a quarter before throwing it up. Thanks Grandma and Grandpa for my FRUIT PARFAIT.
Russel was very sweet and he left in the morning, He said it was nice knowing me and I said maybe we'll see each other in the future.
Maybe we will. Maybe I'll get my frantic baby chicken running around Pediatrics in the cancer ward trying to find his way and get to know familiar faces. And I hope to be that one face he remembers. I liked Russel.
I was quickly sent to Saint Luke's Pediatrics Surgery on Thursday to put in my port. Mine is called the Power Port. Or what I like to call my Ironman port. A port is an easily access point that is put underneath the skin next to your collarbone. Mine is placed in my Right collar bone so that it doesn't influence my heart. This is so they don't poke me so often and just place the iv and chemicals through my body without putting a lot of holes into my arms. It's a plus as I don't like ivs in my arms or a lot of needle work. So I was more than happy to comply to their wishes of a port.
The first night I won't lie was terrible. Waking up every hour of the night becoming excited because it was 7 am but it ended up being two instead. That was always a heart breaker. But my little nurses always created a small get away from me. Especially Russel. Some people might of heard of his name because I said on facebook he reminded me of a baby chicken. Usually when Robbert ( my robot that told me when my iv fluids were getting low or a air bubble was found in one of my tubs. ) went off in the early mornings Russel would appear. I would make some small chit chat. I asked Russel how he was. He immediately began to jabber on.
"It's my first day on this floor. I normally don't work on this floor and I really don't know anyone here. It's a challenge." I felt rather like my father when Russel came into the room. Russel was like a clumsy, lost baby chicken. And I thought it was adorable.
"Well, meeting people is always kind of a frightening thing at first, but you'll get used to it." I chuckled, I sometimes get these feeling of like a father towards certain people. As weird thing since I'm a female, but I know how to act in the right situations.
"BEEP BEEP."
Robbert called upon me to wake up and get the nurse.
It was Russel.
"Hello Russel." I would say. "Are you getting a long better?"
"Yes. I've learned a few new names but I sometimes forget where things are or some numbers that I have to put in."
Russel had glasses and nice curly brown hair.
"I really wish I was a morning person." Russel said with a soft sigh as he put Robbert back into sleep. "Are you a morning person?"
"Ah. I'm actually both. As long as I get enough sleep I can either wake up anytime of the day and go do the things I need to do."
"Coffee? Do you like coffee?"
"No. I don't drink coffee. I can thank my father's genes for being able to wake up at anytime of the day or night. But I like my sleep. And coffee makes me throw up."
I've never had more than a sip of coffee until my grandparents went to MacDonalds. I asked for a Fruit Parfait. "A WHAT?" my grandpa yelled. "A FRUIT PARFAIT." "Oh okay. I'll get you a fruit parfait." But it wasn't a fruit parfait. It was Frappe. Thinking back to my other spinal taps
drinking caffeine helps with wounds. I drank about a quarter before throwing it up. Thanks Grandma and Grandpa for my FRUIT PARFAIT.
Russel was very sweet and he left in the morning, He said it was nice knowing me and I said maybe we'll see each other in the future.
Maybe we will. Maybe I'll get my frantic baby chicken running around Pediatrics in the cancer ward trying to find his way and get to know familiar faces. And I hope to be that one face he remembers. I liked Russel.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Introduction
It's every teenager's dream to have an easy and fun filled high school experience. Not having to deal with big issues tougher than deciding what your prom dress will be or how long you're going to procrastinate that English assignment till two in the morning. Most issues kids face are; Billy broke up with them, how am I going to do all my classes but still have time for friends, what clothes should I wear tomorrow, who's the best artist in their opinion, and deciding which video game they'll be playing for that weekend with a Rockstar by their side.
I was never a normal teenager. I listen to classical music, I fly airplanes, I don't go to proms, I hate Lady Gaga and most Hip hop/Rap/Pop singers with a fiery passion, I stay home playing my Ukulele and reading books, and tend to never really go crazy unless I'm at some Anime Convention for three days a year. I'm a relatively boring redheaded, glasses wearing girl with nothing really exciting happening in her life.
But, apparently my body decided to change all that.
It all started last January. I contracted a simple fever. Nothing big right? Right. But by Mid-January my side was killing me. I ended up having Pancreatitis, this is usually what alcoholics get but being a homebody I don't drink. And so I was treated for that. Then scary things started to happen.
For months, months, I noticed my vision was terrible. I mean, I'm already blind without my glasses. But wearing my glasses made my eyes hurt and I couldn't wear them. I would sit down for either a long or short period of time and when I would stand, my vision would fade away then fade back. I started seeing flashing lights, spots, and moving things in my eyes. I forced my mom to take me to the optometrist where he immediately sent me to a ophthalmologist. There he began to say I had damage in this eyes, hemorrhaging in that one, and leaking fluid. I ended up being sent to the Emergency room where a so called "Amazing Doctor who's done a spinal tap like five hundred times" began to poke and prod my back. I tried to be brave, but the frustration of not getting fluid from my spine had him sweating and he sent me to Radiology.
Now here's a short lesson. A normal spine has a pressure of about 15. If there's extra pressure then they normally see up to 50 pressure, nothing higher. Then I came along with a eye bulging 60. They took 33 mm of fluid. Which is about three and half vials of fluid. They've never seen anyone with a pressure that high in years. YEARS.
I was then diagnosed with Pseudo Tumor Cerebri. Meaning my brain thought I had a tumor, and I really didn't. It created extra spinal fluid to balance the pressure, but since there wasn't anything there my eyes were taking all that pressure. I was then told that if I had waited any longer, I would've lost my eyes.
I've always said if I had to lose one of my vital actions that I would lose my voice in a heartbeat. I want my eyes and ears. I love people and music. Taking any of those away would've killed me. I was pretty shaken up.
I was then met by a Dr. Jernigan. ((Forgive me if I butchered his name. I don't have his card with me.)) who gave me Ace-huirahijkaebsjl0eiaoohjnad. It's a long word. Or Diomox. In a kid friendly term it means, High Altitude Sickness medication. Needless to say the first dosage didn't work. I had a relapse and was hospitalized for two days. I hated it. I was then put on 750 mg for the morning and night. They don't normally give that high of a dosage to patients. I'm just a head scratcher.
That went fine and dandy and I was finally coming off my medicine in July when, WHAM. I was hit again with that same throbbing pain in my side. Only it was my right and not my left. I was in so much pain I called the doctor myself ((I tend to call him now since my mother puts off sickness seeing it as no threat. I've learned not to go easy when my body is telling me I'm in pain.)) I had a scan and I was diagnosed with a bad Gaul bladder. Thinking it was an easy procedure we went to a surgeon. We told him my fascinating medical history and He had his other doubts....
"You probably have Lymphoma Cancer." Dr. Verner said.
"But her needle biopsy said she didn't have cancer." My mother argued.
"Needle biopsies don't tell you different cancers, they just tell you if you have a certain kind of life threatening cancer." Dr. Verner told my wide eyed mother.
"..So she could have cancer?" My mother looked like a deer in a headlight.
"Lymphoma Cancer. This is the best cancer to have if you're going to have it. Very easy to cure." Dr. Verner said with confidence.
I was scheduled for a surgical biopsy the next thursday.
And that's when I met my Oncologist. Dr. Meeker.
We talked about cancer, but we were pretty confident I didn't have it. My blood work didn't show anything out of the norm and I felt fine....
But sadly, this is not a really happy story for me...
I was called Friday 14 2011 from Dr. Meeker. I picked up the phone and listened in to my Mother and Dr. Meeker speaking.
"She has Lymphoma Cancer."
"....She does?"
That's right. With my best friend and my brother upstairs with me. I learned, I had cancer. And I was going to lose my hair.
If I was to learn anything bad like that, I'm glad my friend was there for me.
My world was destroyed and opened up at the same time. Why me? But it answers all my medical questions from the past. It was good news, and bad news.
Lymphoma Cancer has a 90% chance of cure rate. I'll survive.
It's August 25, Wednesday 2011 at 12:20 AM. And tomorrow I start chemo and get my port placed into my chest.
I'm both confident and scared.
But I'll make through it.
Because you know why?
I'm going to look like the love child of Ironman and Uncle Fester.
and
I named my cancer Flannery.
It's an Irish name and it's real.
Look it up.
I dare you.
With all the hopes of a normal teenaged life thrown out the window, (though I doubt I would have had one anyways) I am documenting my experience of Lymphoma Cancer on a blog.
Oh dear.... I'm one of those people now. Haha.
Annika Severts.
I was never a normal teenager. I listen to classical music, I fly airplanes, I don't go to proms, I hate Lady Gaga and most Hip hop/Rap/Pop singers with a fiery passion, I stay home playing my Ukulele and reading books, and tend to never really go crazy unless I'm at some Anime Convention for three days a year. I'm a relatively boring redheaded, glasses wearing girl with nothing really exciting happening in her life.
But, apparently my body decided to change all that.
It all started last January. I contracted a simple fever. Nothing big right? Right. But by Mid-January my side was killing me. I ended up having Pancreatitis, this is usually what alcoholics get but being a homebody I don't drink. And so I was treated for that. Then scary things started to happen.
For months, months, I noticed my vision was terrible. I mean, I'm already blind without my glasses. But wearing my glasses made my eyes hurt and I couldn't wear them. I would sit down for either a long or short period of time and when I would stand, my vision would fade away then fade back. I started seeing flashing lights, spots, and moving things in my eyes. I forced my mom to take me to the optometrist where he immediately sent me to a ophthalmologist. There he began to say I had damage in this eyes, hemorrhaging in that one, and leaking fluid. I ended up being sent to the Emergency room where a so called "Amazing Doctor who's done a spinal tap like five hundred times" began to poke and prod my back. I tried to be brave, but the frustration of not getting fluid from my spine had him sweating and he sent me to Radiology.
Now here's a short lesson. A normal spine has a pressure of about 15. If there's extra pressure then they normally see up to 50 pressure, nothing higher. Then I came along with a eye bulging 60. They took 33 mm of fluid. Which is about three and half vials of fluid. They've never seen anyone with a pressure that high in years. YEARS.
I was then diagnosed with Pseudo Tumor Cerebri. Meaning my brain thought I had a tumor, and I really didn't. It created extra spinal fluid to balance the pressure, but since there wasn't anything there my eyes were taking all that pressure. I was then told that if I had waited any longer, I would've lost my eyes.
I've always said if I had to lose one of my vital actions that I would lose my voice in a heartbeat. I want my eyes and ears. I love people and music. Taking any of those away would've killed me. I was pretty shaken up.
I was then met by a Dr. Jernigan. ((Forgive me if I butchered his name. I don't have his card with me.)) who gave me Ace-huirahijkaebsjl0eiaoohjnad. It's a long word. Or Diomox. In a kid friendly term it means, High Altitude Sickness medication. Needless to say the first dosage didn't work. I had a relapse and was hospitalized for two days. I hated it. I was then put on 750 mg for the morning and night. They don't normally give that high of a dosage to patients. I'm just a head scratcher.
That went fine and dandy and I was finally coming off my medicine in July when, WHAM. I was hit again with that same throbbing pain in my side. Only it was my right and not my left. I was in so much pain I called the doctor myself ((I tend to call him now since my mother puts off sickness seeing it as no threat. I've learned not to go easy when my body is telling me I'm in pain.)) I had a scan and I was diagnosed with a bad Gaul bladder. Thinking it was an easy procedure we went to a surgeon. We told him my fascinating medical history and He had his other doubts....
"You probably have Lymphoma Cancer." Dr. Verner said.
"But her needle biopsy said she didn't have cancer." My mother argued.
"Needle biopsies don't tell you different cancers, they just tell you if you have a certain kind of life threatening cancer." Dr. Verner told my wide eyed mother.
"..So she could have cancer?" My mother looked like a deer in a headlight.
"Lymphoma Cancer. This is the best cancer to have if you're going to have it. Very easy to cure." Dr. Verner said with confidence.
I was scheduled for a surgical biopsy the next thursday.
And that's when I met my Oncologist. Dr. Meeker.
We talked about cancer, but we were pretty confident I didn't have it. My blood work didn't show anything out of the norm and I felt fine....
But sadly, this is not a really happy story for me...
I was called Friday 14 2011 from Dr. Meeker. I picked up the phone and listened in to my Mother and Dr. Meeker speaking.
"She has Lymphoma Cancer."
"....She does?"
That's right. With my best friend and my brother upstairs with me. I learned, I had cancer. And I was going to lose my hair.
If I was to learn anything bad like that, I'm glad my friend was there for me.
My world was destroyed and opened up at the same time. Why me? But it answers all my medical questions from the past. It was good news, and bad news.
Lymphoma Cancer has a 90% chance of cure rate. I'll survive.
It's August 25, Wednesday 2011 at 12:20 AM. And tomorrow I start chemo and get my port placed into my chest.
I'm both confident and scared.
But I'll make through it.
Because you know why?
I'm going to look like the love child of Ironman and Uncle Fester.
and
I named my cancer Flannery.
It's an Irish name and it's real.
Look it up.
I dare you.
With all the hopes of a normal teenaged life thrown out the window, (though I doubt I would have had one anyways) I am documenting my experience of Lymphoma Cancer on a blog.
Oh dear.... I'm one of those people now. Haha.
Annika Severts.
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