So the red bulging spot has now officially declared itself: it's a 2nd degree burn complete with it's own set of blisters!
How do I get myself into messes like this??
Yesterday I had an appointment at the spa to have the technician take a look at her handiwork. Unbelievably, the burn is shaped like......sigh........the devil. Horns and all. Friday I have an appointment with the plastic surgeon so he can check it out and hopefully tell me that it won't scar.
On a happier note: Kasia is now saying "ha-t"! It was "ha-" for the longest time, but she's finally gotten the "t" on the end! I could listen to her say it a million times.......
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Just my luck
Like the saying goes....."If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." I should have that quote tattooed somewhere onto my body, just to remind me on the days that I forget.
Yesterday I went to the spa (but before you hate me, it wasn't for anything luxurious or enjoyable). No....let's just say I was there for a treatment that involved lasers. So to lessen the AGONY of the laser zapping my beloved skin, I was given a hose that blows out very cold air that I could aim at the area being treated. In my defence, I was lying down with dark goggles on to protect my eyes from the laser and had my head down (imagine sunbathing, but add in some unbelievably excruciating pain and you'll get the picture) so it's not surprising that I let the cold air hose droop and sort of lost track of it as it froze a spot on my arm the size of a golf ball. And I mean froze. Frostbite frozen. If I thought the laser hurt yesterday, I had no idea what kind of hurt I had coming today!
Dino had a good chuckle (glad someone's laughing) and said it could only happen to me. I go in for one thing and leave with a completely new problem. So not only does my laser treated spot hurt, but now I've got the added bonus of a huge bright red swollen and bulging patch on my arm and the feeling that I got hit with something like a flaming cannonball. I'll just bet it'll scar too.
That'll teach me......
Yesterday I went to the spa (but before you hate me, it wasn't for anything luxurious or enjoyable). No....let's just say I was there for a treatment that involved lasers. So to lessen the AGONY of the laser zapping my beloved skin, I was given a hose that blows out very cold air that I could aim at the area being treated. In my defence, I was lying down with dark goggles on to protect my eyes from the laser and had my head down (imagine sunbathing, but add in some unbelievably excruciating pain and you'll get the picture) so it's not surprising that I let the cold air hose droop and sort of lost track of it as it froze a spot on my arm the size of a golf ball. And I mean froze. Frostbite frozen. If I thought the laser hurt yesterday, I had no idea what kind of hurt I had coming today!
Dino had a good chuckle (glad someone's laughing) and said it could only happen to me. I go in for one thing and leave with a completely new problem. So not only does my laser treated spot hurt, but now I've got the added bonus of a huge bright red swollen and bulging patch on my arm and the feeling that I got hit with something like a flaming cannonball. I'll just bet it'll scar too.
That'll teach me......
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Cancer is a four letter word.......
So the first 5 months were pretty hard. Getting Kasia to eat was becoming next to impossible and even when she did, it would usually just come right back up. On the day of her christening it had gotten to the point that something had to be done. She was throwing up all the time and taking in as little as 4 ounces of formula a day. Our pediatrician sent us straight to the hospital the following day and Kasia was admitted for tests to look for an explanation. Everyone's best guess was that she had some sort of blockage in either her esophagus or intestinal tract which was making it difficult for her to keep food down and causing her incredible reflux. An ultrasound was performed to check for the probable blockage.
Instead, they found a mass in her abdomen.
Then came the CT scan, followed by an MRI - neither of which could pinpoint where the mass was located. We were initially told that it was in her pancreas (but not told that pancreatic cancer is the least survivable cancer). Needless to say, within a few days we were on our way to Sick Kids and on October 17, 2005 Kasia underwent surgery. The tumor, which turned out to be a hepatoblastoma liver tumor, was completely removed because it was discovered so early. (Most hepatoblastomas are not discovered until the age of 18 months - 3 years of age, and by then a complete resection is usually not possible). A decision then had to be made as to whether or not we would not proceed with chemotherapy due to Kasia's already increased risk for heart, kidney, growth and hearing problems as a result of her genetic condition.
The decision to not do chemotherapy was certainly the most difficult one we've ever had to make. Should we pump our already fragile daughter full of toxic chemo which could potentially leave her with an even more decreased quality of life? Or do we not give her chemo and risk having the cancer return? No one should have to make that decision.
With the guidance of one incredible doctor we chose the latter and for us it was the right choice. It's now going on 3 years since the tumor was removed. Kasia still endures regular blood tests, ultrasounds, chest x-rays and check ups but so far, the cancer has not returned and we're hopeful that it never will. The only remnant that remains is the large boomerang shaped scar that stretches across her belly.
The doctors say that her recovery has been extraordinary. To them we say, we're not surprised - so far nearly everything about Kasia can be only be considered as extraordinary.
Instead, they found a mass in her abdomen.
Then came the CT scan, followed by an MRI - neither of which could pinpoint where the mass was located. We were initially told that it was in her pancreas (but not told that pancreatic cancer is the least survivable cancer). Needless to say, within a few days we were on our way to Sick Kids and on October 17, 2005 Kasia underwent surgery. The tumor, which turned out to be a hepatoblastoma liver tumor, was completely removed because it was discovered so early. (Most hepatoblastomas are not discovered until the age of 18 months - 3 years of age, and by then a complete resection is usually not possible). A decision then had to be made as to whether or not we would not proceed with chemotherapy due to Kasia's already increased risk for heart, kidney, growth and hearing problems as a result of her genetic condition.
The decision to not do chemotherapy was certainly the most difficult one we've ever had to make. Should we pump our already fragile daughter full of toxic chemo which could potentially leave her with an even more decreased quality of life? Or do we not give her chemo and risk having the cancer return? No one should have to make that decision.
With the guidance of one incredible doctor we chose the latter and for us it was the right choice. It's now going on 3 years since the tumor was removed. Kasia still endures regular blood tests, ultrasounds, chest x-rays and check ups but so far, the cancer has not returned and we're hopeful that it never will. The only remnant that remains is the large boomerang shaped scar that stretches across her belly.
The doctors say that her recovery has been extraordinary. To them we say, we're not surprised - so far nearly everything about Kasia can be only be considered as extraordinary.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
And So it Began...
Telling our story has been difficult. And for some of you reading this, it will be the first time you've heard the true, unrated version.
Dino & I met in 2000 when we both worked for the same company. One beautiful and sunny day I left work and discovered a single yellow marigold tucked under the windshield wiper of my car. It was to be the first of many incredibly sweet and romantic gestures that he would surprise me with over the years.
We were married on April 27, 2002 - bought our first home in July 2003 - completely renovated it during 2003-2004 - and decided to start trying to have a baby during the summer of 2004. Kasia was born on April 7, 2005 weighing in at a not so hefty 4 lbs 3 oz.
But....I should probably back up a bit in order to properly tell the story.
I've never been the most observant person, so it still confounds me that I somehow knew I was pregnant immediately at conception. (I was always the girl who was surprised every month by her period...go figure.) But there was no wondering, no guessing, no maybes. I turned to Dino and with a feeling of impending doom washing over me, told him how I felt we had gotten pregnant too quickly (the first time we actually tried) and with all the conviction of a 4th grader, said I wished we could have a "do over". Something was wrong and I knew it.
By my first ultrasound, it seemed I was correct. The baby was small and as the months passed , she fell further and further behind in growth. In February I was forced to leave my job and put on bed rest to "grow my baby"...like I hadn't already been trying really hard to do that?? Fearing stillbirth, at 35 weeks our obgyn induced labour. Incidentally, throughout the pregnancy he blamed the baby's growth restriction on everything from an inaccurate due date to placenta previa, to a calcified placenta, to a faulty cord. There was never any mention of the possibility of a chromosome problem.
Kasia was born at 35 weeks gestation and came into the world gray and not breathing. There were no shouts of "It's a girl!" and no offer for Dino to cut the cord. Most of all, there was no little cry to tell me she was okay. Instead, for one brief moment my daughter's lifeless body was laid across my stomach before she was whisked off to the neonatal intensive care team and resuscitated right next to me. Dino held my left hand, my mother held my right all the while whispering in my ear that she was a beautiful little girl and that it would be okay. I didn't actually get to see her until an hour later, but when I did, she looked perfect! Ten little fingers and ten little toes. I was so proud of her.
The next 3 weeks were spent in the intensive care nursery and I can recall wondering why exactly we were there. Sure, her birth had been scary, and there were still many questions about why this term baby was so small. Turns out my placenta and cord were perfectly healthy - finally freeing me of the guilt that my body had produced inadequate equipment. But then the question would pop into my head now and again.....why? Why so small? It's funny how we push those questions away so easily.
And then it happened. On the afternoon before we were scheduled to take our daughter home, a doctor that I didn't even know came up to me while I was alone, holding my daughter and thinking about how wonderful it would be to have her all to myself at home. No nurses, no gowns, no constant beeping from all the monitors. And then she kicked me in the stomach. Well okay...not literally, but she may as well have. She flatly announced to me that they had done tests on the baby and that she was missing part of one chromosome but that was all she could tell me. It was enough. I knew all too well how important chromosomes are. Most of the remainder of that day is a complete blur though I do remember telling the nurses that I no longer wanted to take Kasia home the next day and asked them to keep her. Then, God help me, I had to go home and tell Dino.
All I can remember from those early days is being sad. I got through the visits from family and friends wanting to see the baby, made up birth announcements and went through the motions of daily living, but was most often filled with grief that is indescribable even today.
The news however, continuted to get worse. Her actual diagnosis, which I rarely talk about, is a genetic condition with varying degrees of severity, and is the true reason for her tiny size. We were told that Kasia would have significant disabilities and that her development in all areas would be delayed, both physically and mentally. We were told things like she would probably never walk, talk, toilet train, would likely need a feeding tube, and would probably never be capable of much interaction, oh yeah...and that she may die before the age of 2 years.
The news came as a complete shock. Why?!? There was no history of any genetic disorders on either side of our family, but just to be sure that Dino & I weren't hiding anything funny in our own DNA, we had testing done. Nothing. So, as we've come to learn, Kasia's chromosome abnormality had no known cause. It was just the luck of the draw. The scary part....it could happen to anyone.
By the time she was 6 months old I was probably somewhere between the 3rd and 4th stages of grief...somewhere between anger and depression. I should have been well on my way down the long road to acceptance when curveball number two came and hit us smack in the face.
To be continuted....
Dino & I met in 2000 when we both worked for the same company. One beautiful and sunny day I left work and discovered a single yellow marigold tucked under the windshield wiper of my car. It was to be the first of many incredibly sweet and romantic gestures that he would surprise me with over the years.
We were married on April 27, 2002 - bought our first home in July 2003 - completely renovated it during 2003-2004 - and decided to start trying to have a baby during the summer of 2004. Kasia was born on April 7, 2005 weighing in at a not so hefty 4 lbs 3 oz.
But....I should probably back up a bit in order to properly tell the story.
I've never been the most observant person, so it still confounds me that I somehow knew I was pregnant immediately at conception. (I was always the girl who was surprised every month by her period...go figure.) But there was no wondering, no guessing, no maybes. I turned to Dino and with a feeling of impending doom washing over me, told him how I felt we had gotten pregnant too quickly (the first time we actually tried) and with all the conviction of a 4th grader, said I wished we could have a "do over". Something was wrong and I knew it.
By my first ultrasound, it seemed I was correct. The baby was small and as the months passed , she fell further and further behind in growth. In February I was forced to leave my job and put on bed rest to "grow my baby"...like I hadn't already been trying really hard to do that?? Fearing stillbirth, at 35 weeks our obgyn induced labour. Incidentally, throughout the pregnancy he blamed the baby's growth restriction on everything from an inaccurate due date to placenta previa, to a calcified placenta, to a faulty cord. There was never any mention of the possibility of a chromosome problem.
Kasia was born at 35 weeks gestation and came into the world gray and not breathing. There were no shouts of "It's a girl!" and no offer for Dino to cut the cord. Most of all, there was no little cry to tell me she was okay. Instead, for one brief moment my daughter's lifeless body was laid across my stomach before she was whisked off to the neonatal intensive care team and resuscitated right next to me. Dino held my left hand, my mother held my right all the while whispering in my ear that she was a beautiful little girl and that it would be okay. I didn't actually get to see her until an hour later, but when I did, she looked perfect! Ten little fingers and ten little toes. I was so proud of her.
The next 3 weeks were spent in the intensive care nursery and I can recall wondering why exactly we were there. Sure, her birth had been scary, and there were still many questions about why this term baby was so small. Turns out my placenta and cord were perfectly healthy - finally freeing me of the guilt that my body had produced inadequate equipment. But then the question would pop into my head now and again.....why? Why so small? It's funny how we push those questions away so easily.
And then it happened. On the afternoon before we were scheduled to take our daughter home, a doctor that I didn't even know came up to me while I was alone, holding my daughter and thinking about how wonderful it would be to have her all to myself at home. No nurses, no gowns, no constant beeping from all the monitors. And then she kicked me in the stomach. Well okay...not literally, but she may as well have. She flatly announced to me that they had done tests on the baby and that she was missing part of one chromosome but that was all she could tell me. It was enough. I knew all too well how important chromosomes are. Most of the remainder of that day is a complete blur though I do remember telling the nurses that I no longer wanted to take Kasia home the next day and asked them to keep her. Then, God help me, I had to go home and tell Dino.
All I can remember from those early days is being sad. I got through the visits from family and friends wanting to see the baby, made up birth announcements and went through the motions of daily living, but was most often filled with grief that is indescribable even today.
The news however, continuted to get worse. Her actual diagnosis, which I rarely talk about, is a genetic condition with varying degrees of severity, and is the true reason for her tiny size. We were told that Kasia would have significant disabilities and that her development in all areas would be delayed, both physically and mentally. We were told things like she would probably never walk, talk, toilet train, would likely need a feeding tube, and would probably never be capable of much interaction, oh yeah...and that she may die before the age of 2 years.
The news came as a complete shock. Why?!? There was no history of any genetic disorders on either side of our family, but just to be sure that Dino & I weren't hiding anything funny in our own DNA, we had testing done. Nothing. So, as we've come to learn, Kasia's chromosome abnormality had no known cause. It was just the luck of the draw. The scary part....it could happen to anyone.
By the time she was 6 months old I was probably somewhere between the 3rd and 4th stages of grief...somewhere between anger and depression. I should have been well on my way down the long road to acceptance when curveball number two came and hit us smack in the face.
To be continuted....
Monday, July 7, 2008
A Good Idea.....
A few days ago my new friend Barbara was kind enough to invite me to read her blog. I can't say that I've ever known a blogger, nor had I ever given the subject of blogs much thought. Curious however, I clicked on the link to her blog and suddenly became entranced not only by her story, but by the format. Blog. A horrible name for a good idea. A great idea actually.....especially for a person like me, but we'll get to that part later.
As I've noticed so often lately, people seem to enter my life at exactly the right moment. I guess this is another one of those times. So Barbara..... thank you for introducing me to the world of blogs. I'll just bet you already understand why and how much it's going to benefit me.
Kara
As I've noticed so often lately, people seem to enter my life at exactly the right moment. I guess this is another one of those times. So Barbara..... thank you for introducing me to the world of blogs. I'll just bet you already understand why and how much it's going to benefit me.
Kara
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