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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504972840 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 01/11/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 216 |
| File size: | 9 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Logan's War Against Stage IV
A Warrior's Battle to Victory
By Ashleigh Snyder
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2016 Ashleigh SnyderAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-7286-4
CHAPTER 1
Life Before Cancer
A big part of understanding our story is our family situation. My name is Ashleigh, and I married Jason in July 2005. We had Jeffrey Allen on November 22, 2006, and Logan Robert on May 18, 2008. My boys were eighteen months apart, so life was busy, but it seemed perfect.
I took my pregnancies and births as naturally as possible. I watched everything I ate and refused anything unnatural. Even when I suffered from horrible heartburn, I refused to take anything that might affect my babies. I drank milk and ate dry oats at all crazy hours of the night to relieve it. Can you picture a pregnant woman shoving dry oats in her mouth at two in the morning? Well, that was me. Even before they were born, I was protecting them and trying to follow a natural path. I didn't want to risk putting them in harm's way.
My deliveries were natural and drug free. Most woman I know cringe at the idea of going through labor without pain relief. But after attending a birthing class and learning how some pain medicine can pass to the baby, I wanted to try it without these drugs. We hired a doula to attend our birth with Jeffrey. A doula is known as a birth companion. They are a nonmedical person who assists a woman before, during, and after childbirth, by providing physical assistance and emotional support. She was a great help with my breathing and focusing techniques. In the end, I was able to deliver him naturally, with no pain medicine, and it proved to be a beautiful experience. The same was true with Logan and our daughters Hope and Mia, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I breastfed my children; I wanted to give them the best start possible. Both boys were colicky, so I had to have a very limited diet. So many things would bother their little tummies, so I was very selective about my diet; I cut out dairy and ate only bland foods. It was worth the sacrifice for me. Once I made those changes in my diet, it just became the way, and the kids were much calmer and happier.
Their baby food, juice, and later, table food, were totally organic. I wanted only the best start for them and did everything to make sure they got it in spite of my friends' jokes. At that time, organic was looked upon by most as an unnecessary waste of money.
But there I was, an all-natural mom with a child who ended up with cancer.
CHAPTER 2A Tornado Hits Our Happy Home
It was July 2009. Jason and I had spent a year and a half building our dream house. My husband is a builder. When we started dating, I saw plans for a house hanging in his garage. It was his dream house, and it soon became a reality. We worked hard to build our house.
For the first year of Logan's life, I was in essence a single mom. I did the daytime and nighttime routines while Jason worked for his father during the day and worked on our house at night. The boys and I would make quick trips to visit daddy and bring him dinner before the boys would head to bed. It was a sacrifice on both our parts as parents.
The house was done in July. We threw our first huge party for my parents' fortieth wedding anniversary. Life was good!
The next month, Logan developed worrisome symptoms. He started to get fussy and wanted me to hold him pretty much all the time, which wasn't like him. His appetite declined quickly. He grew lethargic. He slept a lot. He ran a low-grade fever off and on for weeks.
One morning, Logan woke up with a huge bruise under his left eye. At first, I thought maybe Jeffrey had hit him or he had bumped into something that I hadn't been aware of. The pictures below showed the bruise starting to appear under his left eye.
I took him to our pediatrician several times that month. At first, they said he wasn't eating because he was cutting his molars, but they couldn't explain the bruise and why it wasn't going away. They never once felt his abdomen for any type of hardness or ordered blood work or a scan.
My third time there, I told our doctor I wanted blood work done. She wrote the prescription but told me it wasn't necessary; she said it could be difficult to draw blood from a baby his age.
As I look back on it, I can't believe I let it go as long as I did. You would think when I told the doctor, "This isn't like my baby. I know something is wrong!" that she would have taken me more seriously and would have listened to the cries of a desperate mother.
I had the prescription for the blood work, but it was a weekend, so the labs were closed. On Saturday night, I tripped going up the stairs in the dark. I hurt my foot and ended up going to the ER first thing Sunday morning. While I was waiting to be seen, Jason took Logan to get his blood work done in the hospital lab. Logan didn't even flinch when they took his blood — not typical behavior for a fifteen-month old; that was another sign something was seriously wrong. Once the blood was drawn, Jason took Logan home to rest because he was looking lethargic. I waited on the doctors.
While I was getting my X-ray, my cell rang. It was someone from our pediatrician's office. She informed me that Logan's blood counts were all off. I was shocked. I was to take Logan immediately to see a hematologist at Lehigh Valley Hospital. I asked her what kind of doctor a hematologist was, and she told me a blood doctor. I wanted to know what could be wrong, and out of her mouth came the word cancer.
I don't remember anything after that. I hung up. I wanted to rush the X-rays. Tears were streaming down my face. My foot wasn't broken, but they set me up with a walking cast and crutches. I was sobbing hysterically. I told them to please hurry so I could get to my son. They got me set up quickly, and I called Jason. Another conversation I can't remember — just a blurred message to get Logan to Lehigh Valley Hospital, possible cancer.
I believe now my foot injury was divine intervention. To have hurt it badly enough to go to the hospital got us to the place Logan needed to be. It was as if God had reached down and smacked me in the face, saying, "Go to the hospital now!"
Before I got that call from the pediatrician's office at the hospital, I was upset. I was thinking I'd have to deal with my foot on top of everything else. I kept thinking what awful timing and such horrible luck we'd had. But now I realize it was one of my greatest lessons. Sometimes, we don't understand why something is happening, but in time, we gain perspective. In time, we see and appreciate the timing and the lessons learned. The doctors told us Logan would have died if we had waited even a few more days. So the push to go to the hospital for my foot actually saved my son's life. Timing turned out to be everything!
The first couple of days while Logan was being diagnosed were a horrible blur of tears, breakdowns, and chaos. We finally had an answer to what was wrong with him, but I didn't want to know. I wanted to stay in the dark. I wanted to keep thinking of possibilities like teething, viruses — anything easily treatable. But the blood work demonstrated it was much more serious.
CHAPTER 3Detecting the Deadly Beast
It took a few days before the results came in and the doctors gave us Logan's tentative diagnosis. They suspected it was neuroblastoma, but they wanted to rule out other cancers such as leukemia.
Our first pediatric oncology doctor said he had looked at the cells under the microscope and could see it was not leukemia, and I praised God for that. Though my grandmother had had leukemia and had lived for years with it, I'd lost an aunt to it. I thought of Aunt Susan and her battle and struggle with treatment. I couldn't imagine Logan going through the same treatment she had endured or having the same outcome.
We learned that Logan definitely had neuroblastoma; the cancer had spread. He was stage IV. In the beginning, I refused to let myself google anything on that cancer. Our doctors advised us not to do that, and I'm glad I didn't. It was months if not years before I did.
Neuroblastoma is a rare cancer that almost always affects infants and children; it's the most common type of cancer in infants. There are about 650 cases per year in the United States and 100 cases per year in the UK. Nearly half the cases occur in children younger than two. With neuroblastoma, a solid tumor (a lump or mass caused by uncontrolled or abnormal cell growth) is formed by special nerve cells called neuroblasts. Normally, these immature cells grow and mature into functioning nerve cells, but with neuroblastoma, they become cancer cells. It usually starts in one of the adrenal glands but can also develop in nerve tissues. Neuroblastoma often spreads before any symptoms are apparent, and 50 to 60 percent of neuroblastoma cases spread. That is what was happening to Logan. His original tumor, on his left adrenal gland, had metastasized to a tumor behind his eye.
Neuroblastoma is divided into three risk categories — low, intermediate, and high. Logan was on the worst end of the spectrum; he was at high risk. Neuroblastoma is not well understood; the great majority of cases are sporadic and nonfamilial. Its unknown origins are part of what makes detecting and curing it so difficult.
Now for the really depressing part — the survival statistics. Between 20 and 50 percent of high-risk cases do not respond well to high-dose chemotherapy, and relapse is common. After relapse, the patient is considered "medically incurable." There are some phase I and phase II clinical trials available, but the outcome remains very poor for relapsed, high-risk cases. The majority of those who survive have long-term side effects from treatment. It's estimated that two out of three survivors of childhood cancer will ultimately develop at least one chronic, sometimes life-threatening health problem twenty to forty years after the cancer. So even if you beat the odds and become a survivor, you face future problems. Your worry never really ends. Your fight never seems over.
My in-laws had spoken to our doctor to get some more information after hearing this devastating diagnosis. They'd never heard of neuroblastoma and wanted to know exactly what we were dealing with. Jason and I were still in shock and trying to deal with just the day-to-day drama of having a very sick child. The doctor told them, "Just enjoy every day you have with him." Wow. What a way to go into battle, thinking his days were limited and we should just appreciate what time we had left with him.
Thankfully, Jason and I were not told that at the time; we focused on getting him treatment. It was too hard to focus on the future. According to our doctors, it was a nonexistent future for Logan — not exactly the boost of confidence we needed to hear as we headed into battle.
CHAPTER 4Decisions Decisions
We had a diagnosis. We were then faced with what treatment he needed and where we could get that. Our hospital was good, but we wanted a children's hospital and decided to move to CHOP, Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. The doctors there had dealt with many neuroblastoma cases, and of course we felt more confident with them treating our son.
Logan started chemotherapy at CHOP but completed only one round of the national protocol. The national protocol is a standardized treatment plan that detailed the treatment course Logan would complete. Our particular protocol was specific for Logan's diagnosis and stage of cancer. It was a detailed timeline of when chemotherapies, radiation and surgery would occur. While we were at CHOP, we had many signs that just didn't feel right. One example was when the oncologists gave Jason and me a whole list of what we should expect. They listed all the risks associated with using such powerful poisons. Don't get me wrong. Logan was a very sick little boy who needed medical intervention at that point; I don't want you to think I'm saying chemo isn't effective. It can be for some patients, but it isn't what cured my son. It killed his cancer, and we're thankful for that. But it didn't keep his cancer from coming back, which I will get into later.
We went over the huge list of side effects and risks. We signed our son over to their care. The doctor left, and I sobbed at the facts and the realization my son would mostly likely never be able to have children due to the chemo. I sobbed at the damage that could be done to his organs. I sobbed at how sick he would get before he got better. I sobbed at what a long road was ahead of us. Here's an entry I posted on Logan's Caring Bridge site.
CB Entry: Friday, August 28, 2009, 11:08 p.m.
We sat down with the oncologists tonight and had to go over the chemo schedule and side effects of each drug. It has been a very hard evening to say the least. We are trying to not focus on that and just focus on the result of Logan being strong and healthy again.
We thought we would be starting chemo tomorrow, but it looks like it will be Monday, latest Tuesday, until all results are in and we are 100 percent ready to start. While we wait, Logan has still been really lethargic and not feeling well. He did have a few times that he sat up and played and even smiled, and it brought tears to our eyes. Can't wait to see that more often.
CB Entry: Saturday, August 29, 2009, 9:35 p.m.
Today was a good day. My parents, Jason's parents, my sisters, Nick, my niece Alyssa, and Jeffrey all came today to spend some time with Logan and us. They are all staying overnight here in Philly so we will have some more time together tomorrow.
Logan had some Tylenol and a little stronger drug to keep him comfortable today. He got some of his appetite back, and it was so good to see him eat. Never would I have thought I would get so emotional over him taking a bite. Just one of the many small things I am going to start and appreciate through this journey.
Still planning on just resting tomorrow and starting chemo either Monday or Tuesday. He was all swollen/ puffy from all the fluids he was getting. Actually gaining 2 pounds in just that fluid weight and now he is back down to his normal skinny self. I missed his chicken legs. I can't be the only one in the family with chicken legs :)
CB Entry: Sunday, August 30, 2009, 7:58 p.m.
Today, Logan got another blood transfusion. His hemoglobin counts went a little low. Once he got that and some meds, he perked up and ate. Watching him play makes all of us tear up.
Family is so important, and it has been wonderful sharing this weekend with everyone. We should be starting chemo tomorrow, so I am extremely nervous but also hopeful to be one day closer to him feeling better.
CB Entry: Monday, August 31, 2009, 8:07 p.m.
They will be starting chemo tomorrow. They were waiting for one test result to come back to be sure on the type of chemo to do. They are sure that it is neuroblastoma, but it could be major or intermediate, which would get different types of treatment. They are leaning toward it being major but want to be sure. We are still praying for intermediate because it would be less chemo and no bone marrow transplant, but we shall see.
CB Entry: Tuesday, September 1, 2009, 6:38 p.m.
They were supposed to start chemo earlier today. While we were waiting to get the results back from pathology, Logan had some issues with his blood counts this morning, so they pushed the chemo back until they figured out what that was.
He had a cat scan today, and they determined the bleeding was most likely from the tumor and they didn't see a ton of fluid/blood in the abdomen. So once the chemo starts to shrink the tumor, the bleeding should stop and his labs should even out.
The report from pathology is that it is a major classification of the neuroblastoma, which is what they expected, so they know for sure the course of chemo to do. The chemo is on order, and he is all prepped with fluids so they should be starting it within the hour.
I am so nervous to see how the night goes with that but anxious for it to start. He has been in so much pain these last couple days that he needs something. Please continue to pray for him.
After signing off on all the chemo orders, my best childhood friend Laura came to see us on her way home from work. I sat with her and cried. I told her everything they said about the side effects, and she tried her best to keep my spirits up. She said, "They don't know Logan. They don't know how strong he is. He is going to beat this, Ash."
As we were talking, one of the doctors walked in to give me a copy of all the side effects she had gone over with us. She had pranced in complaining about how crappy the weather was outside and how she was not looking forward to being out in it. She didn't even seem fazed by the news she had just delivered or the fact I had a box of nearly empty tissues on my lap and eyes completely soaked and swollen. Oh, I'm sorry. My son is lying in a hospital bed and at death's door. You just read me all the negative side effects I could see my son go through just so he doesn't die and you're complaining about how dreary it is outside? Really? She expressed no sympathy, compassion — nothing; she was just a doctor delivering information and checking off the last thing she had to do before heading home to her healthy family. That was one sign we were not in the right place. How could I have a doctor who had absolutely no compassion for a mother and her son? How could I put my trust in her that she would be sympathetic on this long road? It didn't sit well with me.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Logan's War Against Stage IV by Ashleigh Snyder. Copyright © 2016 Ashleigh Snyder. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Preface, xi,Life Before Cancer, 1,
A Tornado Hits Our Happy Home, 4,
Detecting the Deadly Beast, 7,
Decisions Decisions, 9,
3F8 — Pain Therapy, 38,
The Beast Returns, 45,
Rearing Its Ugly Head Again, 54,
Knocked Down but Not Out, 60,
Through the Eyes of a Naturalist, 64,
The Cancer Diet, 65,
The Miracle of Alkalinity, 73,
The Rife Machine., 75,
Supplements and Vitamins, 77,
Cranial Sacral Therapy, 78,
Chemotherapy, Radiation, and Surgery Oh My!, 87,
Essential Oils, 88,
A Healing Attitude, 91,
Buying Stock in White Out, 93,
Frenemies, 95,
Chemotherapy — Marriage Therapy, 97,
Security for Two, 99,
A New Enemy in Town, 104,
Caring Bridge Site a Godsend, 111,
Big Brother Jeffrey and Our Support Group, 114,
Angel Organizations, 118,
Giving Back, 123,
A Spiritual Look, 125,
A Clean Pantry, 131,
A Crystal Ball, 136,
Moving Forward, 139,
Great Recipes, 142,
About the Author, 201,