Fear

Have you ever experianced a fear that took your breath away?  That made your heart race and your stomach drop?  I remember being scared in the past.  It might have taken my breath away.  But not the kind of fear that makes your finger tips and toes go cold.  That is until Taylors diagnosis.  Now its a common thing.  The first was when we found out about her cancer.  I will never forget that phone call from the doctor "Pack your bags, call your husband... Tests... Theres a mass... Are you ok Julie?"  Then waking Randy.  The drive to the hospital.  I remember thinking, it will be ok.  She cant have anything serious...  I remember gripping the car door and feeling strong contractions from my hugely pregnant belly.  I was scared.

The next time I felt that fear was that horrible week of diagnosis.  The day they told us Taylor had stage three cancer.  The room seemed to spin, would she live?  Was Taylor going to die?  During that week Randy and I had gotten a special "respite" room that the hospital provides for parents.  We had been sleeping (or trying to sleep) in her room and Randy wanted me to get a good nights sleep since I was so pregnant.  The night we stayed there we tossed and turned.  I fell into a resteless sleep, only to come out of sleep shaking my head and yelling "NOOOOO!" when I remembered, Taylor has CANCER and the next morning she was going to have surgery to take a biopsy from her tumor.  The gut wrenching crying.  The not being able to breath.  Contractions from my belly.  Randy softly speaking in my ear, "Ju remember the baby".  I remember trying to calm down, but my heart wouldnt stop pounding.  I felt phycical pain, not from my belly but deep inside.  That night we decided, we would be strong for Taylor.  She needed us, we wanted to enjoy her.  I still havent completely lost it like that, even to this day, through all her treatments.  I remember talking to the doctors about "life expectancy", "chances of survival", treatment plans, ports... All things I never wanted to learn about.  It was terrifying.

The next time was the day before her chemo.  Our fifth child had been born that day.  He was 5 weeks early and I had an emergency c-section.  He was in the NICU.  We had Taylor in my hospital room the night before chemo was to start.  I remember holding her.  The thought of putting my 18 month old, beautiful, huge eyed, HAPPY baby through chemo, it left a brick in my stomach.  It was wrong.  It meant she was sick.  Really sick.  We didnt know if she would survive all the aggressive chemotherapy she would have to go through.  The thing that got me was we were going to be taking her to these treatments.  Handing her over.  To me it seemed like we should be grabbing her and running.  Then common sense kicked in.  It might keep her "well" for a time, but the cancer would take over and kill her.  My stomach was in knots.  The next day I held her as Randy pushed me in a wheelchair from my hospital room to her first chemo treatment.  I cried when they started the chemo.  It was overwhelmingly scary.

The day her hair fell out.  It was hard.  I remember seeing little hairs all over her shirt and I thought it was mine at first.  Then I ran my fingers through her hair and pulled out a handful.  My stomach dropped.  My heart raced.  I cried.  Then I took a bag and kept her hair in it.  IF she died, she wouldnt have a lock of hair for me to cut off and keep.  I wanted her hair.  The rest of the day I gently, lovingly pulled her hair out and put it in the ziplock bag.  My eyes were tearfilled and my vision was blurry.  I tucked it into my sock drawer.  My heart was racing, I was really scared.

Another specific, not so dramatic time I felt that fear was when I was helping a nurse hold Taylor down as they were pulling tape off her chest and then deaccessing her port.  I had done it 100's of times.  Taylor was crying and looking me straight in the eyes.  I remember thinking "I HATE this, what am I doing?"  My heart sunk.  I felt tears prick my eyes.  I said to myself "be strong Julie, be strong for Taylor."

I remember looking at our little wisp of a girl, she had fallen asleep at the table after a rough week of chemo.  She didnt have a shirt on and I could see every single one of her ribs.  Her backbone was sticking out while her bald head was resting on the table.  How will she survive?!  It scared me.  It took my breath away.

I remember Randy and I talking to her surgeon the week before surgery.  Its HIGHLY risky, theres veins and arteries all entwined in the tumor, if one is nicked it could be fatal, he told us.  As Randy and I walked out of the office the surgeon said to us, "If you are praying people, I would start praying"  Terror.  The day of the surgery we handed her to one of the nurses to take her to this HIGHLY risky surgery.  I remember thinking this might be the last time I hold her when shes warm, when she responds to my touch.  Tears pricked my eyes.  I grabbed Randys hand and we walked away.  I sucked lung fulls of air and tried to remember to breath.

Now its the stem cell transplant.  I look at Taylor.  She seems perfectly healthy.  Gone is the weak, sickly, swollen girl.  Shes had such a long rest that the swelling from chemo and steroids has gone down.  She has normal colored skin now.  Shes still skinny, but not sickly skinny.  She smiles, and plays again.  Then I think about what is to come.... My stomach drops, my heart races and I feel like crying.  But I dont.  Again, we are going to be taking her to this life endangering thing that is going to make her so sick.  Doubts plague me.  Maybe we shouldnt do the stem cell transplant... But then the doctors words come back to me "Back in the 80's we didnt do stem cell transplants for kids going into it without disease, about 80% of them had the neuroblastoma come back...."  This is her best shot of survival.  If it comes back, she will most likely die.  So we are going to drive to Kansas City, take her to the hospital and watch  high dose chemo drip into her for 24 hours a day for 4 days.  Then watch her struggle to recover.  Praying that her stem cells that they put back into her will quickly multiply and help her live.  Its hard.  Its really hard.  It takes my breath away, it makes my heart race, it makes me want to cry.

Shes STRONG.  Taylor has fought this ugly beast and so far shes come out triumphant.  She has THOUSANDS of people praying for her.  She has surprised us with how well she has conquered it all!  A wee 17 pound girl has gone through more than I have ever dreamed of going through.  She still has an unusual joy about life, even after all that shes gone through.   

Scripture has come alive as never before.  It seems like some verses were written just for us.  I honestly dont know how people can make it though trials like this without Gods promises.  Without HOPE.  When that fear blasts me, I say to myself "God has a plan, God loves Taylor more than I do, God GAVE us Taylor, we have been blessed to raise her as long as we have... We have the HOPE of Heaven"  We WILL make it through this!  We might not have visible scars like our little Warrior, but we do on the inside.  I hope our scars make us a beautiful as her scars make her.  God has taken us this far, and He will get us through.  No matter how ugly the next month might get.  We have HOPE, we have ASSURANCE, we have FAITH, that no matter what.... God is there with us, hes keeping our tears in a bottle, he will never leave our side, HE HAS A PLAN, and we want to glorify him in this plan.  So while Randy and I are clutching each others hands, we know Gods hand is right there with us, holding ours tight.