Category Archives: sickness

Remembering Braden

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

You know the feeling when something bad is coming and it makes you really sad?  It is called anticipatory grief.  When you experience it, you do everything that you can to prepare yourself and you begin to think that you can handle it when it comes.  Except that when the thing actually happens, it makes you feel like you got punched in the face and then kicked in the stomach, over and over and over again.  In reality, there is no way to be prepared at all.

I had a dream early this morning that I was falling down a deep hole.  I dropped and dropped for what seemed like miles, clawing at the dirt as I flew down desperately trying to get purchase on the wall.  After a very long time, I hit the ground.  In my dream, I screamed from the utter and complete agony.  My bones were broken and my head was throbbing and spinning.  I hurt so very much all over.  And then I woke up.

But that was when the pain became really intense.  Because I remembered that Braden was gone.

Braden Dean Smith died peacefully at home in the early hours of Monday, May 13, 2013, surrounded by his family.  His fourteen-month long fight with leukemia had left his body and mind exhausted and worn, far beyond his mere nineteen years.  He tackled his illness with bravery and intensity, but the disease was simply insurmountable in the end.  He is survived by his mother, Stacy, and his father, Steve, as well as five younger brothers and sisters… Chloe, Maddie, Cameron, Rachel and Eric.  He is also loved by countless family members and friends who consider ourselves so lucky to have had him in our lives.

I am so very grateful that Braden is no longer suffering, even while we are left behind to suffer in his absence.

Braden was exceptional.  He had book and street smarts.  He was athletic.  He was funny.  He was passionate… about sports and politics and religion.  And he was also compassionate and caring and forgiving.  He was a great friend and a doting boyfriend.  He wanted to go to college and get married and have a family.  He wanted the good life.

But even when he was in the middle of the hardest battle he would ever fight, he was always looking out for those around him.  He was kind enough to indulge my anticipatory grief and go to lunch a few times with me over the last few weeks.  We talked about everything and nothing, fears and regrets, hopes and dreams.  It was inspiring to me and those conversations, as well as many others we had together, are memories I will always cherish.

I am so very sad right now.  My sadness comes in waves.  I am sad for the profound loss that his family is enduring.  A mother and father lost a son.  Siblings lost their big brother.  My daughter lost her first true love.  I am sad that a young man with so much potential had to suffer and die before his life ever really got started.  I am sad over the loss of my friend.  My grief is no longer anticipatory… it is here.

I know that it is healthy and normal to be sad and to grieve, especially over the loss of someone so young.  There is no rule book or guide to follow, but it is very important to seek counseling or fellowship immediately following the death of a loved one.  Fortunately, we have each other to lean on, confide in, reminisce with.  We need to remember Braden, talk about him, share stories about him.  It will help us and it will make Braden happy when we reach out and help each other.  Do it to honor him.

These pictures are from one of my favorite days with our whole family, including Braden, after he had been diagnosed and had gone through a transplant.  He was getting his energy back and it was a nice day, so we went over to Webb Bridge Park to play on the playground and throw around the football.  It was pure and happy and good.  Remembering that day will always make me smile.

It will not bring him back, but it will keep him eternally alive in our hearts and our memories.

I sure do miss you already, Kid.  Until we meet again…

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

A Mother of a Holiday

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

“That’s it!”

“I have had ENOUGH!”

“I am not going to put up with you ingrates any more!”

“If I have to say it one more time, my head will explode!”

“OK, I’m done.  You have broken me.  Are you happy now?”

So, it’s been fun at our house the past few days.  Please, sense my extreme sarcasm.  I have said all of the above, or comparable paraphrases, at least once in the past 24 hours.  I don’t know if it is a full moon rising or shark week right around the corner, or what, but I am a right angry mother.

Kid D has been home sick all week.  It is not his fault that he is sick, but for-the-love-of-all-things-holy, why do boys have to be so freaking needy when they are sick?  It is a cough and some mild puking.  It’s nothing to get in a kerfluffle about.  I realize that the whining is a genetic male defect, and I know that you’re bored, but please let me sit on the toilet without you knocking on the door so you can tell me that Craig Kimbrel had his 100th save against the Giants last night, and he’s the second youngest pitcher in the MLB to do it, and you’re hungry for something but you just don’t know what.

And Kid E has decided to stop sleeping through the night again.  For no reason.  He says he gets lonely.  I’m too tired to even come up with a response to that.  The broken sleep thing kills me.  There is not enough coffee in the world (especially when Sheepdog and Kid A take the very last K-cups in the house) to fix me right the next day.

And the girls are in full-on battle mode with each other.  Kid C came to me and complained that Kid B is a tyrant.  They share a bathroom, and Kid B has apparently set forth some rules that Kid C does not necessarily agree with.  They fight over time limits in there, closed doors and lights.  This morning Kid C was straightening her hair in the dark so as to not awaken the Kraken.  They fight about who left what in the shower.  And Kid A and Kid B constantly fight over clothes (clothes that NONE of them ever put away after I have lovingly washed, folded and delivered to their rooms each week, even after I have reminded them daily).  I tell them they have to learn to figure it out on their own, otherwise they will get eaten alive in a sorority house or in the workplace with dudes or on the playground with the other mommies when they grow up.  Stand up for yourself, but be kind and thoughtful to the people around you at the same time.  But nobody listens to me.

Until I have had enough.  Then they all had better lend an ear.

It got so bad with Kid A that I gave her a Come to Jesus in the kitchen when she got home yesterday.  She has had a really rough year, but enough is enough.  Enough with the disrespect.  She is dismissive to the other kids and rude to me, unless she wants something.  Her phone, laptop and car are all up on the block for repossession if things don’t improve ASAP.  She is never home and when she is, she is usually disagreeable.  To a degree she is “just being a teenager,” but there are some behaviors that are simply not acceptable.  So the rest of the kids got dressed down last night or this morning as well.

Did I mention that Sheepdog is in California for work and some biking?

Motherhood is hard.  There are no instructions or rules, so you just have to make stuff up as you roll along.  And not only do I second guess some of my decisions, but everybody else around me does as well (don’t worry… I most likely judge you right back).

Also, motherhood never ends.  You have to do it when you are sick, or tired, or sick and tired.  You have to do it on weekdays and holidays (even the federal ones).  Sometimes you have to do it when you husband is on a business trip, or crappier yet – sometimes moms have to do it all alone.

This is getting really negative.  I need to make a U-turn.

There are also a ton of rewarding things about motherhood.  I can’t articulate any of them right now, but deep down I know that there are a lot of great reasons to purposely choose motherhood as your life sentence.  There really are.  I swear.

OK, not such a great effort, so I’m heading back to my rant.

Do you know what I really hate?  I hate Mother’s Day.

There, I said it.

I hate all of the commercialism, the flowers (dead in a few days) and the cards ($5.99 for folded paper, really?) and the candy (did you not see me struggling to work out every day this week?).  I hate the stress of coming up with the perfect gifts to let my mom or mother-in-law know just how much they mean to me.  I hate that dads and kids are forced to create a perfect day for moms on this randomly designated Sunday in May, because it rarely rises to meet the mark – for the dads, the kids or the moms.  I hate that my annual trip out of town over the second Sunday in May (Mother’s Day – Run Away and No, He Didn’t!), got canceled again due to scheduling conflicts.

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So, here’s what I propose.  Get rid of Mother’s Day.  It is too much pressure on everybody involved.  Nobody has a relationship with their mother that is simple enough to be tied up with wrapping paper and a bow, and everyone involved knows it.  Just make sure to tell your mom (and any mom, for that matter) how great you think she is, whenever the thought strikes you.  You don’t have to save it for any particular day.  Crappy jewelry turns green or goes out of style; a compliment is forever.

And maybe you could also put away your clothes, stay in your own bed, don’t talk back, and be nice to your sister.  Oh, and get well soon, Kid D.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

A Monkey in Pajamas

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Apparently, I have always been weird.

Exhibit "A"

Exhibit “A”

This is the front of a postcard that I sent to Sister C when I was in college and she was in middle school and she was stuck at home with mono.

And to further prove my point, here is what I wrote on the back…

Postcard to Sister C

I am trying to remember if the whole microwave-as-a-clothes-dryer thing actually worked.  College was awesome.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

The Other Shoe

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

There is an old tale about a weary traveller who stayed for some time at an inn. His room was just below that of a man who worked nights. When that man would come back to the inn after his shift was completed, he would ready himself for bed, starting with the absentminded removal of one shoe. It fell to the floor with a loud thud, waking the sleeping traveller below. Having been startled, the traveller would wait for the other shoe to drop before he would allow himself to fall back into deep slumber. But the upstairs man had remembered by then that there was someone sleeping below him, so he carefully removed his other shoe and placed it on the ground with nary a sound. Eventually the frustrated and impatient traveller would yell out, “For goodness’ sake, would you just drop the other shoe already!?!”

Years ago I was awoken by the “thump” of a falling shoe. It is a long story – one not meant to be told right now – but know my sincerity when I say that I surely didn’t expect to contemplate a bare foot just then. I was distracted with the day-to-day of working and mommy-ing and daughter-ing and sister-ing and wife-ing and house-running that I did not see the signs. Sometimes you just don’t. The shoe just falls.

Afterwards, I felt uneasy. Other things in my life suffered neglect because I was always watching and waiting for that other shoe to drop. But life doesn’t always happen in the way you hope or plan or will it to. Some things happen without rhyme or reason or logic or order. I learned to focus again over time, without always looking over my shoulder for a black cloud or a bad sign or some warning for some unnamed, unknown thing that may or may not ever happen to me. Day by day I slowly moved on and I began to participate instead of just letting life happen to me.

In my mind, the greatest thing about being a human being is what you can learn from relationships and what you can learn from experiences. Not just your own, either, but yours, mine and theirs too. If you truly open your heart and mind to people and adventures then you can learn all sorts of things that have the potential to help you evolve. I’m certainly not always successful, but I do try to pay attention to the lessons that are presented to me along my way.

One of the things I have figured out is that many shoes will likely fall throughout my life. Some I will anticipate, but others will startle me out of a deep sleep. And when they do, I will continue to try to face each challenge with strength and courage and, of course, humor.

*****************************************************

He was getting stronger and healthier. He was gaining weight and an appetite. He was running and biking. His freckles came back out. His hair started to grow back. He could drive again. He was throwing around the idea of starting college in January because the doctors said it might be an option.

Kid A with Braden before Homecoming in October

Then, last Wednesday, another shoe just dropped. Braden’s leukemia came back.

He started chemotherapy on Monday. We will celebrate his nineteenth birthday next week.

It is scary and uncertain and my instinct is to wait and listen for the other shoe to drop before I can go back to sleep. I want to hit stuff and I want throw things and I want to curl up in the fetal position and cry. I physically ache for Braden and his mom and dad and sisters and brothers. It hurts so very much to watch as Kid A lives out this experience. I want to yell out, “Just drop the other shoe already!” And I will.

But I (hope that I have) learned which behaviors are effective and which ones are futile, so I will go back to being strong and believing and praying and having courage. I will do my best to uplift him and his family and, of course, Kid A, as they ride this crazy roller coaster of cancer. And this time I will remind myself that not all shoes come in pairs. Or I will remember that sometimes the upstairs man will lay them down with nary a sound.

Here’s hoping that life’s shoes will be more pretty Louboutins than ugly rubber boots, but I will make room in my closet for all of them.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

The Holiday Wrench

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I did all of the laundry so everybody would have clean clothes to pack.  I charged the pump so we could blow up the air mattress for somebody to sleep on when we got there.  I filled the gas tank in the truck so we could get up this morning at 3 A.M. and just drive.  I did a little early Christmas shopping for some bigger items so we could drive them up instead of shipping them.  I’m not even gonna start on the preparations that Grandma and Grandpa made in anticipation of our Thanksgiving visit… the shopping, the cleaning, the cooking, the “little” projects around the house.

Turns out they were all for naught, though, because we have kids.  And kids come with a cornucopia of wrenches that they will throw into the gears of our lives at any given moment.  And because of a sick wrench, the seven of us are all milling around our house in Georgia instead of driving somewhere along I-77 watching (or just listening to, if you sit in the front seat and can’t view the screen) a Disney-Pixar movie right now.

Exactly what we were trying to avoid
*photo courtesy of Google Images*

On Monday, Kid A came home from school in tears.  She was extremely nauseous and on top of that another girl in her lit class had written an essay about her (a very flattering one, not a mean one) that made her extremely emotional.  Since naps are my go-to cure-all, I immediately sent her to bed.  She felt a little better after that, but ended up not going to school on Tuesday because she got worse through the night.  She had a fever and didn’t have the energy to get off of the couch.  She was shaky and dizzy and icky, but I figured whatever it was would run its course and be gone after 24 hours.  So I kept on packing.

But by Tuesday at 5 P.M., while standing amidst 6 fully packed duffel bags (Sheepdog, of course, waits until the very last minute to pack.  He also feels the need to run every article of clothing past me as he does it, despite my insistence that I DO NOT CARE which damn shirt he wears to drive home), 7 winter coats, 7 sets of hats and gloves, 7 pairs of sneakers, 7 backpacks filled with charged electronics and books, a soccer ball, a football, a few baseball gloves and balls, the travel pillows and blankets, the sleeve of DVDs, the camera bag, the snack bag and the drink cooler, Sheepdog and I made the decision to cancel our trip.

The kids’ reactions were similar… all of them were very sad that they wouldn’t be seeing their Grandma and Grandpa, or their aunt and uncle and cousins.  Kid D started to cry inconsolably and he continued through bedtime.  Kid E was mad at me.  But I saw an ever so slight look of relief pass over Kid A’s face when she realized that she wouldn’t have to fake tough for ten hours riding through the ups and downs of the mountain roads while trying not to even think about throwing up even though she would have the Tupperware vomit bowl within her arms’ reach the whole time.  We would also be sitting right next to her the whole time, breathing her sick air and coming into contact with her cooties, pretty much guaranteeing that somebody else would have what she has for the trip home.  It was definitely the right call.

The next call I had to make was to my in-laws, who were vibrating with so much excitement in anticipation of our arrival that I could feel it through the phone lines.  Ironically, our trip to visit them earlier last summer was canceled on their end, as they were all dealing with some sort of plague that we couldn’t take a chance contracting, especially since Kid A’s boyfriend had just had a bone marrow transplant and was extremely immunocompromised.  I was scared that my mother-in-law would be furious or cry or have some sort of extreme reaction that would cause me even more guilt than I was already experiencing, but she was understanding and gracious and so sweet about everything.

So now we are all home.  We have the gift of an unexpected day with nothing much on the schedule.  Kid A is recuperating and we are all keeping our distance.  Kid B went to the movies to see Breaking Dawn Part II (which was AWESOME by the way… best of the series) for the sixteenth time.  Kid C and Kid D are running around in shorts outside playing some sort of bucket, snoochie boochie game.  Kid E is shadowing Sheepdog while he changes the air filters and applies wood putty to a broken door and generally performs a bunch of Sheepdog chores around the house.  I am going to take a much-needed nap.  And tomorrow, as long as everybody has been fever-free for at least 24 hours and nobody shows any signs of being sick, we will join two of my sisters and their families, as well as my mom and dad for Thanksgiving dinner down the street.

I sure hope nobody throws a wrench into that plan.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Put ‘Em Up

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

I got in a fight and lost.  Against the Sun.

I made an appointment with my dermatologist to have her look at a little thing on my foot back in late February or early March, but when I returned from Cabo I had a tan.  I didn’t want my dermatologist to think that I was some kind of irresponsible sun worshiper, so I canceled the appointment.

Then came the summertime, and I was an irresponsible sun worshipper.  I took the kids to the pool or the beach regularly and, while I sprayed their little backs and fronts and ears and noses and even scalps with hundreds of dollars worth of “the really good stuff,” I will admit that there were some days when I forgot to slather it on my own cheeks.

Summer ended.  My tan faded.  It crossed my mind once or twice to make another appointment with the dermatologist, but other things came up which required my attention.  It was laundry day or dinnertime or someone needed new socks or a new hairbrush or it was someone’s birthday or soccer game or book fair.

That’s weird… “book fair.”  Why did “book fair” just come to the forefront of my consciousness?  Wait a minute.  What day is this?  Oh, crap!  What time is it?  I was supposed to be at the book fair for Kid D ten minutes ago.  See what I mean about the other things taking over?

OK, I’m back.  I barely made it to the media center before his class was shipped out.  When I found him, Kid D was just wandering around with his wish list, looking abandoned and sad.  But it was nothing a few baseball books couldn’t cure.

So I finally got around to making (and going to) an appointment with the dermatologist on Monday.  She told me that my foot thing was nothing and then she did an all over body scan.  While she was staring at my cheek I asked, “Oh, so you like my age spot, do you?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, that’s no age spot…” she responded as she blasted my face with her evil freeze bottle.

Mama said knock you out.

So now I have a nasty cut on my cheek that will take some time to heal.  In the meantime, I am wearing a band-aid over it because it makes me look more like a tough boxer than a dumb sun bunny.  I might even keep the Everlast glove on while I run my errands.  What?  Don’t you judge me.

The doctor confirmed that I am still allowed to go to Cabo in February.  And in the summer I can still go to the pool and the beach too.  I just need to be extra vigilant about anything new or interesting, and I have to remember to put the good stuff on me.  Every single time.

Speaking of time, take some right now and make your own appointment.  Don’t brush me off.

Wait.  ”Brush.”  Somebody said something about a brush this morning.  Oh yeah, Kid B broke hers and she needs a new one.  I’ll go to the store right now, I just need to find my boxing glove first.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

What’s Up? Nothing Much… Got Leukemia.

Posted on by Stacy Swiger

Last summer Kid A began dating a boy she had become friends with at school.  She told me all of these nice things about him first (too good to be true?) and then she broke the news to me that he was going to be a senior and was almost 18-years old (she was 15 and starting her sophomore year at the time).  Immediately I had a flashback to my high school days and being asked out by older boys while wearing my catholic school girl uniform (it was mandatory; I wasn’t just being all slutty) and the warning sirens went off in my head.  But knowing very well what happens when you tell a teenage girl that she can not do something, I decided to take a different tack.  I told Kid A that it was fine that they dated, as long as she brought him to our house so we could get to know him.  So she did.  A lot.

It turns out that Kid A was right about the boyfriend being a great kid.  He is smart, witty, a little bit sarcastic, a lot cynical, well-read, comfortable around adults, and he has street smarts too (he lived in Washington, D.C. with his dad for a while).  He was on the cross country team at school and he held a part-time job waiting tables at a restaurant.  Plus, he listens to good rock music and not that odd, hipster stuff by Lights or Meg & Dia.  He is just the right amount of scared of Sheepdog and he is always respectful of our family and our rules.  He plays with Kids B – E and he rarely seems to get sick of them (I don’t get it because I get sick of them all the time).  Most importantly, he is very respectful and sweet to our daughter.

So time has passed and they go out on dates and hang out here and talk and text and have continued to build their relationship.  They have had mostly ups, but they’ve experienced some downs too.  It is pretty amazing to watch both of them handling a high school relationship with such maturity.

Then last Thursday, the boyfriend (although technically he is now her manfriend, as he turned 18 last November) was admitted into the hospital for suspected epiglottitis (an inflammation of the epiglottis, which is the flap that covers the windpipe during swallowing).  While there, his doctors ran a bunch of tests.  By Friday he was in the ICU, where he was diagnosed with leukemia.  He was then transferred to the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit.  He shaved his head on Monday and started chemotherapy Tuesday afternoon.  It has been a whirlwind.  I really can’t believe it has only been a week since his diagnosis.

I am in shock.  Sad.  Scared.  Heartbroken.  Worried.  Angry.  Frustrated because I have no control.  Studying to learn more about the medicine.  Yearning to make it all better.

Stupid cancer.

Then I look at him.  I am in awe of his strength, even in his vulnerable moments.  My heavy heart gets a little bit lighter every time I hear him make a joke or laugh about his disease, because it takes a very strong person to laugh in the face of adversity.  Everyone knows it’s not really funny, but what else is supposed to take down the elephant in the room that makes its presence known every few seconds with a click-click as the poison gets pumped directly into his heart.  Kids should never have to contemplate their own mortality.  Sarcastic optimism really is the best medicine in my book.  That’s how you face down a monster.

News of Manfriend’s leukemia is now starting to reach people in the community.  He’s getting a ton of friend requests from people on Facebook.  He gets texts and phone calls and cards and visitors and cancer presents (DVDs, video games, hats, warm socks… all excellent gifts) every day.  People want to reach out and show their support and let him and his family know that they care and they want to help.

Some people know all too well what this disease can do to people’s lives.  But others have been lucky enough to never have been touched by the clammy hand of cancer themselves.  It is most interesting to see how people act around someone who is sick.  Some say or write just the right things.  Some are extra nice.  Some do the nervous talking thing.  Some are cautious.  Some are the same as they ever were.  Manfriend seems to be responding to everyone with a natural extension of his already sardonic teenage personality and I think it is going to serve him very well through the inevitable ups and downs of his recovery.

A friend came by the unit to see him the other day.  When he knocked and entered the room he saw his sick friend wearing a gown, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and monitors and machines.  Seeming to gloss over the unmistakable, the friend simply asked, “What’s up?”

Ever the smart-aleck, Manfriend responded, “Nothing much… got leukemia.”

Yeah, I think he’s doing just fine.

Wish me luck for tomorrow (and please keep the manfriend and his family in your prayers)…