To Love a Rose: An Ethiopian Adoption Journal

Monday, May 7, 2012

Pictures from the Cancer Battlefield, Part 12: A Homecoming

Look at me, following through on promises and writing another blog; please, hold your applause. *wink*

For those of you following along at home, you already know that my mom was diagnosed on November 14th with stage 4 adult Philadelphia positive acute lymphoblastic leukemia.  It's as nasty as it sounds, and from that day forward, mom was holed up doing treatments in preparation for a bone marrow transplant at the fabulous Cancer Treatment Center of America, Zion, IL.

When I say "holed up", I mean it.  Mom had not been allowed to go home since that fateful day back in November.  We spent many holidays in the guest quarters and hospital; so mom could be safe in the vicinity of her doctors and nursing team.

While she was grateful to be watched so closely, one thing she desperately wanted to do before her transplant was go home.  After transplant, one must stay at the hospital for 100 days to make sure that the new stem cells have fully ingrafted and that there are no complications.  Mom is committed to doing whatever it takes to ensure her health and safety, but her one request was a reprieve at home (no matter how brief) before her "rebirthday" (transplant day).

Well, she got her wish!  Mr. C, myself, and mom were in the stem cell out-patient clinic a couple of weeks ago when Dr. Redei (head of the CTCA stem cell unit) twirled around in his chair and told mom she could go home for four days!  I've never seen mom pack so quickly (we were out the door within 20 minutes tops!); she was so excited to go home!

Mom giving the thumbs up as we take off for Iowa.

Our first stop once home was to go watch the Fairfield High School theater department's production of The Wizard of Oz.  This was the first real show I ever did at the age of 11; so I was really excited to watch it as well.  Mom's friend's oldest daughter, Baylee, was cast as Glinda the Good Witch; so, we rallied together and made a little cheering squad in the auditorium.  Mom was a good girl, too.  She wore her mask the entire time.

Part of the cheering squad: mom, Heidi, and Blair.
Mom and the show's director, Scott Slechta (my former high school drama teacher). :-)
Mom and Glinda (err, Baylee!) after the show!  She did a GREAT job!

Mom also got to visit with her friend, Debbie, who's husband is mom's chiropractor.
It was not long after this that mom found out that she had to go back to the CTCA for her LAST bone marrow biopsy and inter-thecal (injection of chemotherapy directly into spinal column) before transplant; BUT that after that, she would be allowed to go home for the remainder of the time.  Which also meant that she did NOT have to do her last round of "part B" chemo (methotrexate).

She was pretty excited about this, because the methotrexate always hit her quite hard and made her feel extra awful.  Instead, she would take higher doses of Sprycel to prepare for the transplant.  She's not too fond of Sprycel either, but it's better than the methotrexate; AND it acts like a sniper to keep the Philadelphia chromosome from causing a "blast crisis".

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, mom travels to Mt. Pleasant (about 1/2 hour away from our hometown of Fairfield) to the Henry County Health Clinic's infusion center to get a CBC (complete blood count) and any infusions she may need (magnesium, potassium, blood, platelets, etc.).  So far, they have been GREAT; and we're all feeling blessed that mom can still receive excellent care while being able to be close to home.

Mom relaxing at the Henry County Health Center's infusion Clinic.
Also, we like them; because they usually have treats like these:

Chocolate oatmeal cookies.
Italian sugar cookies.
Mom starts the procedures before her transplant on May 16th (the day before my birthday, no less); but until then, she's glad to be home - working in her craft room and sleeping her own bed.  She's been especially glad to be able to visit her home church, Faith Christian Outreach Church, to see all the faithful who've been standing with her in prayer and hope for her total restoration.  We all feel blessed to have such loyal, God-fearing brothers and sisters on our side.

Next stop: TRANSPLANT!  :-)  Until then...


Love and Blessings to You and Yours,
*mandie*

Adoption News: Fingerprinting and Beyond

I owe you all an apology.  A BIG FAT one, actually, don't I?  Yes, my lovelies...it's been FAR too long since I posted a blog; and that's just unacceptable.

I'm going to try to make it up to you, my dear ones, by posting several blogs in the next few days.  I'll be *attempting* to get a jump on the chaos that is sure to follow.  Mom starts her pre-stem-cell-transplant chemo on the 16th of this month; so, I'll be back in good, ole Zion, IL by this weekend, I'm sure.  BUT, that's for another post!  This post is about our I-600A's!  Well, the fingerprinting part anyway.

Mr. C and I got our first break from the cancer center this past week.  We hadn't been home since January, and before that, November.  I've LOVED being able to be with mom during this most important journey, but I will be honest with you, I desperately  needed a break.

It turned out to be decent timing, because we received news from the USCIS that our initial I-600A paperwork had been accepted, and that we needed to come in for our (*hopefully last*) set of fingerprints for the I-171H.  This is exciting news, because the I-600A is the document that applies to the advance placement of an orphan.  It is essentially the LAST step before we receive our referral (match with our child)!

The problem was that the USCIS office we were to report to was in Ft. Smith, AR and we had to be there at 8 a.m. on the morning of April 30th.  Hooray.  Not only did we have to get back to Branson, but we would have to turn right around and make the 4 hour journey to Ft. Smith to get fingerprinted again.  Ugh!  I was dreading it so badly, but I knew I didn't want to reschedule knowing how important the next three months were going to be for mom and her last phase of cancer treatment.  So, we sallied forth!

We got home to Branson around 11 p.m. on Saturday the 28th and slept like logs 'til 3 p.m. on Sunday the 29th.  Then, we got up, ate, and packed smaller bags out of the clothes in our suitcases and drove to Ft. Smith; where Mr. C had wisely booked us a hotel room.  We got in late and went straight to bed (all we want to do lately is SLEEP!).  8 a.m. came far too quickly, but we were up, checked out, and in the car to the USCIS office in record time.

Of course, it started to rain; but we were excited to be on our way to finishing the last thing between us and our referral - weeeee! 

Mr. C and I in the car with our I-600A fingerprinting summons. *so official*
As tired as we were (and when I say "tired", I mean "totally, freaking exhausted beyond belief"), we were glad we got to the office when we did.  We were literally the first in line; which not only meant that we would be the first to be processed, but we also got to stand under the awning while others who had also been summoned for 8 a.m. on April 30th had to stand in the rain by order of the very "friendly" (yeah, that's sarcasm there) officer who checked you in, "one family at a time".  (Oh, and did I mention he would not let anyone into the building a second before 8 a.m. on the dot?  Yeah, nice guy.)

Once Mr. C and I got in the door, the super kind guard/officer (let's call him, Mr. Happypants, shall we?) instructed us to not make sudden moves and to empty our pockets slowly into two plastic bins he had sitting on his desk.  I had nothing in my pocket (had not even brought my purse knowing it would just be rummaged through anyway); so, I proceeded to walk through the metal detector.  It beeps immediately.

This sent Mr. Happypants into a frothy-mouthed tizzy.  "I thought you said you had nothing in your pockets!"  He said accusingly.  "I don't!"  I swore, turning out my pockets to prove it to him.  His eyes narrowed, "Come around and go through again."  I did.  Once again the unholy metal detector beeped at me.

Scanning me up and down through squinted eyes, Mr. Happypants stopped dead on my head.  "What holds that flower in your hair?"

Crap.  I had totally forgotten about my hairclip.  Of all days, I forgot while stepping through a metal detector at the USCIS.  Classy, Mandie.  Reeeeaaaallly classy.

"Crud, I'm sorry, yeah, it's held with a metal clip," I started to take the flower from my hair.

"NO!  Don't touch your head, ma'am!  I'm going to need you to step over here please...spread your arms and legs out, do not touch your clothes or body."

What the WHAT?!  Are you serious?!  I wanted to scream.  What did he think I was going to do, pull a poison dart from my hairclip?  I'm sort of flattered, if that's the case.  I never took myself as the type that looks like a foreign spy with mad judo-chopping skills and James Bond-esque weaponry at my disposal; but apparently Mr. Happypants had full faith in me.

I had never been frisked before, but honestly it wasn't as degrading as I thought it would be.  Mr. Happy pants was surprisingly gentle about it all.  I can't wait to tell Desmond this story one day.  I hope he knows that I'd go through this scenario a million more annoying times if it meant I got to finally bring him home.

When I was found to be blow-dart free, Mr. C and I were ushered to the "help desk" (which is an oxymoron of a statement if ever there was one) where a very "bright and cheery" girl (again, sarcasm, people!) took our fingerprint summons and gave us a number - 82. 

About 15 minutes later, a tall woman came out of a thick, metal door and called out, "Number 82, please!"  That was us!  I was up first, and Mr. C could not be near me while the fingerprinting was done.  (I don't know if they thought he was going to try to tamper with them or something, but he had to sit all by his lonesome about 20 feet away on a folding chair.) 

After nearly snapping off both my pinkies, because they're "too small to get a good imprint of the swirl patterns", I was done!  Mr. C was through quickly (guess he has better pinkies than I do), and I thought we were done when the lady performing our fingerprinting got a worried look on her face.  She came and asked me for my summons again and took it in a side office and shut the door.

Uh-oh.

Sure enough, when she came back she had the great news that my fingerprints had to be done over again.  "I forgot to put in your social; so, it invalidated them as soon as I tried to upload them.  They're gone."

Great.  This time I thought my pinkies were goners for sure, but the digits made it through intact - all 10 of them.  *whew!* 

We were quickly ushered out the door, and that was it.  All that stress and headache and driving and exhaustion for about 30 minutes tops of fingerprinting and procedure.  I wanted to take a picture of the USCIS office, but Mr. Happypants came outside to tell me that "photography was not allowed".  So, I sneaked a quick one through the dash window when he wasn't looking:

I. am. such. a. rebel.  Ha!

Not too exciting really (except for Mr. Happypants).  We were done, and that was all that mattered.  After talking to the Holt Korea team, we should be able to safely say that a referral should be coming our way by July or August; but with things the way they are, I wouldn't be surprised if it was more like September when it finally arrived.  That's okay, though, we have enough going on with my mom right now; so, we're not worried about timing.  God has a perfect plan anyway.

After the fingerprinting, we got in the car and headed directly back to Branson where we've been ever since.  It's been strange being away from the CTCA, and especially sad; because while we were gone, our dear, dear friend Vince Guereca passed away after his second stem cell transplant.  This is another topic that deserves (and will get) it's own post, but suffice it to say, Mr. C and I are heart-broken; and while we know God is good and in charge always, it's been particularly difficult to reconcile this situation in our hearts and minds. 

Like I said earlier, we will be heading back to Zion this weekend, but in the meantime, we've been sleeping in, eating at our favorite Branson restaurants, seeing friends and family, and spending loads of time with our precious, little fur-child, Eagan.

Eagan Fitzgerald Conner...being cute on his mama and daddy's bed (ie: HIS bed).

We also had a chance to buy a few more fun items for Desmond:

More and more books.  This kid has a serious library already, but I love adding to it.  Books were my treasures as a child, and I hope to pass that love of books on to Dez.
A "monster" bowl and spoon, car and robot plates, and a cutlery to go caddy with chopsticks included!
That is all there is to say about our fingerprinting adventures...more bloggies to come - I pinkie swear with my now hanging-by-a-thread pinkie fingers!

All the Love in the World,
*mandie*

Monday, April 16, 2012

I-600A Approved!

I really want this South Korean adoption necklace from The Adopt Shoppe on  Etsy!

It feels like time is moving so slowly with the adoption.  I know waiting is the hardest part, and I know that God is always working on patience with nearly ALL of us adoptive parents.  It's also not easy to read articles like this.  Even though the overall consensus is that South Korean adoption is still moving in a forward fashion, it is hard for me to hear that the country is wishing to shut the program down altogether.

Now, please, don't misunderstand me: I am VERY glad that South Korea is getting to a point where they no longer need international adoption; but when you have waited as long as we have for a child and been through as many country programs and treatments to no avail, it's hard to be happy that the very program your child is coming to you through is trying to stop doing the one thing that will FINALLY make you a parent.

I can't help but get a twinge of fear every time I get an e-mail from Holt about the Korea program.  Even more difficult is the fact that while referrals are coming in at a regular pace, EP's (emigration permits) are now on quota.  This means that while most families get referred (matched with) their son or daughter within 6-7 months, they often have to wait 12-18 months after that point to get the "okay" from Korea to bring their child(ren) home.  *tears*  We are praying and believing that this will NOT be the case for our little one; but if it is, we have to believe that God has a reason for this and that he (because it's 99% certain it will be a boy) will be well taken care of while we cannot reach him.

Deep in our hearts, we KNOW that God sees our utmost desires; and that He loves us enough to care that they come true.  God IS knitting our family together, and we know that He is in control of this entire process, no matter how frightening or uncertain it seems at times.  The human side wants us to feel afraid and weak and powerless, but the spirit is saying, "Trust in the Lord your Abba God, for He is preparing your path and raining down FAVOR upon you and your future child!"  AMEN!

All this being said, we got some good news today.  Our I-600A (application for advance placement of an orphan) is APPROVED!  Next, we get our fingerprints taken again, this time for the FBI.  After this, we will receive our I-171H which is all we need to move forward with applying for the baby's visa and American citizenship!  We know this doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but it is for us - everything checked off the "to do list" brings us one step closer to our child!

We also found out the name of the pediatrician taking care of our child; which was pretty amazing.  And we discovered that our home-study was approved on Valentine's Day (awwww! LOVE this!) and sent to South Korea to be matched with a child on February 17th.  Referrals are coming within 6-7 months of home-study approval; so, I think we will get our good news by July (*fingers crossed*).

Thank you to all of you who continue to pray for our adoption.  Mr. C and I appreciate this more than you can ever know!  We are so grateful that God continues to be faithful to His promises to us each and every day.  We cannot wait to see what He has in store for our family and Baby C!

Love and Blessings,
*mandie*

Pictures from the Cancer Battlefield: Part 11

Reading my Kindle in mom's room (stem cell #6 this time) while she gets her SECOND TO LAST rounds of chemo before transplant.


Mom was on isolation due to an infection, but Uncle Rick came to see her anyway - so nice to see them all!  (L-R: Sean, me, mom, Rick O'Mahony, Angie O'Mahony, and cousin Pamela Jenkins)

Mom and Uncle Rick.
Tuckered out in out-patient.
Mom and Dad at mom's nurse, Dawn Krause's house.  She had us and some other stem cell patients over for dinner; it was very nice of her.
April and Neil Coker.  Neil headed home TODAY at 87 days post-transplant...show-off!  Haha!
Sean and I at Dawn's house.
Neil (did I mention this is his THIRD stem-cell transplant?!), Dawn, and mom.
Neil, April, and Brady at Dawn's.
Whitney, mom, dad, and Sean at Dawn's.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Pictures from the Cancer Battlefield, Part 10: The End is in Sight!

The end is in sight, my friends!  Mom starts her LAST "round A" chemo on Monday!  After that, she has "round B", then.....................................TRANSPLANT!!!!!! 

It's hard to imagine how far we've come since November.  At times, I feel as though I've lived an alternate lifetime here.  There have been moments I felt the wind knocked out of me - I couldn't breath/think, times I thought my heart was stopping from grief and worry...seconds I was sure my whole world was whirling about me while I stood mute and frozen, totally unable to move or scream or cry or do anything positive about my circumstances...only to realize so blatantly that God alone has the power to do that and that He does and that He wants to - He wants to help and heal and save.  A lesson so powerful, it's worth a few months in a cancer center to fully and truthfully comprehend.

There have been days I felt so alone and scared, and then my good Abba father would send in comrades and so much love and support from the most unlikely of places at times that my spirit has been beyond humbled.  I am so blessed.  My life is forever changed by this experience - for the BETTER. 

Sometimes you have to walk through fire to burn the unnecessary bits of life's excess off of your soul - I have, I AM, doing that here.  I know what's important.  I know WHO'S important.  God has helped me to trust Him in ways I NEVER thought possible - what sweet release!  I have witnessed out-right miracles.  I have been privy to things that look like nothing, seem so insignificant; but to those who know, who really understand, it is understood that they are the flipped switches that turn dark to light...death to life.

Here are some pictures from the past few weeks...only a few more to go - hooray!

One day when mom was out-patient, we took her to Gurnee Mills to shop for scrapbooking supplies at Archiver's.
I just love the juxtaposition of the bag of blood lying on top of the Apples to Apples.
Dad and mom at Five Guys Burgers and Fries.
Sean and I at Five Guys.
Our friend, Neil, and mom sporting their matching Angry Birds hats made by Karen Blakely.
SO TRUE!
Mom resting in out-patient clinic while getting a blood transfusion.
Karen Blakely made this for our friend Vince - it looks awesome on him!
This is what happens when you have a super low blood platelet level and you pull your shower shield off too quickly. *sad face*
Sean and I at the Waukegan public beach.
Mom couldn't get out of the van to walk on the beach with us (too cold and dirty), but she waved at us from nearby.
View of the Lake Michigan from the Waukegan Harbor.
Mom and I at Emily's Pancake House.  This place has the BEST breakfasts ever, and I LOVE when mom feels up to going there to eat!
Mom and her fellow stem cell patient, Andy.  He got to leave for home today weeks EARLY post-transplant!  We're so happy for him!

I wish you and yours lots of love and peace,
*mandie*