Nancy
Nancy arrived on our pediatric unit a shy, sullen, bone-thin 15 year-old. According to her parents, she'd been coming home from school and lying on the couch for months, saying she did not feel well, and complaining of vague aches and pains. They chalked it up to adolescent moodiness and tried to ignore her, hoping she'd snap out of it.
When that didn't happen, they brought her to the doctor, who ran some tests. The diagnosis was cancer, a tumor in her pelvis that had already metastasized into multiple nearby organs. She was given months, but she lasted almost two years.
Even though she was ill, in many ways Nancy remained a typical teenager. Some days she would hole up in her hospital room, the lights dimmed, buried in a mound of quilts and books, listening to her music and scribbling in her journal, offering only muttered responses to our questions.
Other days she'd "ride" her IV pole up the corridor like it was a skateboard, her head scarf off and bald scalp glowing. She'd visit the younger patients on the unit and talk our ears off as we tried to chart, then race back to her room and proceed with some redecorating project she'd just thought up that instant.
Her parents were older. She had siblings in their 20's. If only they'd taken her to the doctor sooner, some of the nurses whispered.
But I couldn't agree. How could they possibly have known? How often did teenage mood swings mask the symptoms of cancer? If that were the case, every kid would spend their adolescent years being rushed to the doctor, going through test after test. For nothing.
I didn't have kids when Nancy died. But I've thought of her many times over the years. My kids have to complain an awful lot, and over time, for me to stop and say, okay, maybe there's something specific here we need to rule out or get checked out.
Nancy's cancer was so far along that the odds are it would have made little or no difference had she been diagnosed a few months earlier . But I like to think knowing her helps me be a little more vigilant, always aware.
After she died, her parents found instructions she'd written in her journal for exactly how she wanted her funeral to be. She wanted certain music played and poems read. She wanted them to dress her in her white track suit, and to use her head scarf instead of her wig, so that she would look like her real self.
I didn't go to her service. But I heard they honored her every request.
When that didn't happen, they brought her to the doctor, who ran some tests. The diagnosis was cancer, a tumor in her pelvis that had already metastasized into multiple nearby organs. She was given months, but she lasted almost two years.
Even though she was ill, in many ways Nancy remained a typical teenager. Some days she would hole up in her hospital room, the lights dimmed, buried in a mound of quilts and books, listening to her music and scribbling in her journal, offering only muttered responses to our questions.
Other days she'd "ride" her IV pole up the corridor like it was a skateboard, her head scarf off and bald scalp glowing. She'd visit the younger patients on the unit and talk our ears off as we tried to chart, then race back to her room and proceed with some redecorating project she'd just thought up that instant.
Her parents were older. She had siblings in their 20's. If only they'd taken her to the doctor sooner, some of the nurses whispered.
But I couldn't agree. How could they possibly have known? How often did teenage mood swings mask the symptoms of cancer? If that were the case, every kid would spend their adolescent years being rushed to the doctor, going through test after test. For nothing.
I didn't have kids when Nancy died. But I've thought of her many times over the years. My kids have to complain an awful lot, and over time, for me to stop and say, okay, maybe there's something specific here we need to rule out or get checked out.
Nancy's cancer was so far along that the odds are it would have made little or no difference had she been diagnosed a few months earlier . But I like to think knowing her helps me be a little more vigilant, always aware.
After she died, her parents found instructions she'd written in her journal for exactly how she wanted her funeral to be. She wanted certain music played and poems read. She wanted them to dress her in her white track suit, and to use her head scarf instead of her wig, so that she would look like her real self.
I didn't go to her service. But I heard they honored her every request.
Thoughtful words...
Posted by: Braja | August 07, 2009 at 09:17 AM
It's so sad when someone that young dies. As always, those who passed live on in our memories, though. She sounds like an average teenager, which I mean as a compliment.
It does make you wonder though. How vigilant do you need to be? When do you say, No this merits a dr? LG is just starting to talk to me, so I'm not quite as panicky as I was a few months ago. It's hard not to rush to the office when he seems "off" though. Great post.
Posted by: Mama Badger | August 07, 2009 at 10:10 AM
That was lovely. What a brave girl she was!
Posted by: Joanie M | August 07, 2009 at 10:17 AM
I don't pray. For this, I would.
Posted by: LPC | August 07, 2009 at 11:14 AM
This is a beautiful story, and to know she touched your life in a positive way is a gift.
Posted by: Tricia | August 07, 2009 at 11:18 AM
Oh wow. This hit a chord. My daughter is a whiner with the lowest pain tolerance ever. Last night she wsa moody and complaining and I told her she was the biggest cry baby of any 20 year old around. I need to go wake her up with a big kiss now.
Posted by: Pseudo | August 07, 2009 at 11:27 AM
How very sad. I'm sure those parents will never stop questioning themselves.
Part of my persona is that I get everything checked out--every mole, every lingering ache, everything. My daughter recently had an MRI for some shoulder pain she had when she ran. My instinct was that it was nothing (and it was), but I figured this is why I make sure we have insurance. Bruising and exhaustion will definitely get you a blood test to check your white cell count in my house.
It does help that my kids are not complainers at all--if they say they've got an ache or pain they really do.
Posted by: Jenn @ Juggling Life | August 07, 2009 at 11:43 AM
It's amazing how some people come into our lives. Even for just a short time. Nice post.
Posted by: Kingsmom | August 07, 2009 at 12:00 PM
Oh, heavens. I can only imagine the guilt her parents must feel, the what if's can overwhelm. A lovely story, just heartbreaking in its reality.
Posted by: Sprite's Keeper | August 07, 2009 at 01:32 PM
Really well put and poignant.
Posted by: JennyMac | August 07, 2009 at 03:32 PM
Were you an oncology nurse? I couldn't do it. . . I just don't think I could. . .
Posted by: lizspin | August 07, 2009 at 05:16 PM
I love how you shared her spirit with some more people just be writing this piece. Good stuff, and thanks.
Posted by: Erin | August 07, 2009 at 09:59 PM
Oh that's so sad. So many "what ifs?" At least they did not willfully keep her away from medical treatment like the idiots in northern Wisconsin who let their daughter die of diabetes even as an out of state relative was calling the sheriff's office saying the kid was sick and had to go to the doctor.
No, we'll just pray for her, they said. We have FAITH.
Morons. As if doctors and nurses and Western medicine aren't God's way of healing the sick.
Posted by: class factotum | August 08, 2009 at 09:37 AM
This really hit a nerve with me because Gaby Rose is such a drama queen and tends to be just a wee bit of a hypochondriac. But because of her rough birth and two pneumothoraxes and other assorted issues that comes with being a preemie, we tend to take her complaints with more than just a grain of salt...call it overly cautious, that's just us. Makes me wonder what she's going to be like as a teen?
I love the picture you drew for us...was so easily able to envision this young lady. Beautiful.
Posted by: Audrey at Barking Mad! | August 08, 2009 at 05:26 PM
Wow, sounds like an amazing girl. It's so hard to know when things are serious and when it's just normal aches and pains...or moodiness. I was so touched by the nurses that helped me when I was in the hospital and it's good to know that patients touch your lives as well, so it makes all the hard work you do worth it!
Posted by: Kate | August 08, 2009 at 07:28 PM
This made me cry. But you know, if my kid came home EVERY day for MONTHS, laying on the couch and complaining of not feeling well, I would not have just written it off to adolescent moodiness.
Posted by: Jan | August 09, 2009 at 09:54 AM
When I read stories like this I always wonder what would Nancy have gone on to do had she had the chance?
Posted by: Sandy | August 09, 2009 at 01:26 PM
Some people just have that ability to reach out and 'touch' you.
You might not have gone to her funeral, but that's just a service. You paid your respects to her right here, in this post. And of the countless times you've thought of her...
Beautiful.
If I become ill, I'd want a nurse like you.
:-)
Posted by: Nancy McDonnell | August 09, 2009 at 03:31 PM
What a story. One of many that you have to tell, I'm sure.
Posted by: Jason | August 09, 2009 at 08:56 PM