NoOneFIGHTSAlone

NoOneFIGHTSAlone

From Ashley Biddick

As many know from Megan's(Coach Wilson) blog, their Sweet Palmer has been diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma. Let's help ease the burden of financial costs. #NoOneFIGHTSAlone #Cancersucks #PalmerStrong #TogetherisBetter

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Update #1

about 1 month ago

Who Lives in a Pineapple Under the Sea?
Journal entry by Megan Wilson — 10 hours ago

It’s been a two days, one sedated scan, what seemed like 500 Facebook notifications, and 20 episodes of SpongeBob since my last journal entry. Two days…that’s 172,800 seconds and probably ten times that many thoughts, so bear with me as I try to collect them.

First of all, I cannot thank everyone enough for all of the support for our family. Remember in my last journal entry when I said I didn’t think I could be floored anymore...wrong again. Doesn’t seem like I have been right about too many things lately, but…from the bottom of our hearts…thank you for the texts, phone calls, messages, posts, meals, donations, and most of all PRAYERS!!! We have been trying to keep up and respond as much as possible, but I am sure I have missed some and I will likely miss more. Just know how appreciative we are for ALL of you!!

If I’ve learned anything in the last eight days, it’s been that my type-A personality will probably struggle with the uncertainty of all of this, but as one of my best friends would say, it will be a good growth opportunity. Unfortunately Palmer’s PET scan got postponed until today, which meant Monday was just kind of a “chill” day. We had some of my best friends from college and high school stop by for visits. They played games, braided hair, had makeovers, and just chatted with my sleepy little girl. I couldn’t help but think how blessed I was to have such amazing friends in my life…I’m not just talking about these three…but ALL of my amazing friends that have been my rock through this. What a great feeling, right?

Well, get ready for the roller coaster…I couldn’t help but think about all of Palmer’s friends and the parents that have reached out with prayers and well wishes. Then you ache for your child…hoping this nasty disease doesn’t keep her from building the lifelong friendships that you have. I mean there are some friends I’ve been close with since I was her age and there are others that have proven to be true friends in a very short amount of time.

I know she’s got this…she’s stubborn as hell…may or may not have a little of her mom in her, but still…you wonder…you play the “what if” game and then you slap yourself out of it because she needs you right now. You find a way to push those thoughts aside and think about setting up tea parties and play dates. You might even have a little wishful thinking that they may happen as soon as this weekend…then you remind yourself…you really shouldn’t plan anymore.

Thoughts like this quickly made me realize that I needed a break from here, and she probably needed a break from me. I went home late last night to do a load of laundry for us, pack a bag of clothes, and to sleep in a bed. It may have been the hardest thing I’ve done since last Tuesday. Leaving her…growth opportunity I reminded myself.

I was craving structure and normalcy. I got up at 4:30 a.m. to workout with my gym partner-in-crime and it wouldn’t be “normal” unless it was an over-programmed Straka EMOM. I left the gym and wasn't sure which direction to head...I can do this I thought to myself. I went to Platteville. I saw my team…they made me smile without even trying. I went to meetings so I didn’t have to think about what the afternoon was going to bring. This is what normal feels like…I had almost forgotten.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long. Ninety minutes of driving and great conversations with people I love and just like that…I was back. I knew what the afternoon would bring…anxiety for Palmer, another sedation, probably one of the most important tests she will have, and more waiting. Seeing her beautiful face made me forget about all of that. We snuggled. We caught up on all that I had missed since last night. We watched another episode of SpongeBob.

I heard another knock on the door. It was time to take her down for the PET scan. She would be injected with a radioactive substance that we would have to let “work” for 30 minutes before anesthesia would come in to put her sleep Carey told us as he stood in the door way. I immediately saw her tense up and she clung to her bedside. I offered to carry her downstairs and she wrapped her little arms around me so tight…I knew instantly she had so much anxiety. This was going to be her fourth sedation in eight days. When we got outside the room she cried, “No mommy, no! Please don’t let them put me to sleep. I don’t feel good.” I knew she was stalling, but also knew how badly we needed to find out if Lily was anywhere else in her body. I begged and pleaded as I set her down to walk in the room. She wouldn’t budge and that’s when she knelt down on the floor and threw up. I had just witnessed my six-year-old get herself so worked up she made herself sick. My heart was aching for her.

We got her inside and injected with the radioactive substance. We snuggled and she told me how bad her head hurt. I caressed her hair, I whispered in her ear how brave she was, I stared at that clock, and we waited. It wasn’t long before I heard her post-Lily snore start and I was grateful that she was comforted enough to fall asleep. We were able to get her put under anesthesia while she stayed sleeping, and off I went to wait in her room.

Ninety minutes went faster than I thought and the next thing I knew I was in recovery for the fourth time in eight days...she had done it again. As she lay there with her eyes closed, I admired her strength. How could a six-year-old be so resilient? I smiled to myself thinking how incredibly blessed I was to be her mom.

We took her back to her room and Dr. Pucetti bumped into us in the hallway telling us that we had received one of the spinal fluid results back and it was negative. I smiled again, only bigger this time. I watched my baby sleep and another 90 minutes later Dr. Pytel and Dr. Otto came to tell me that the preliminary review of the PET scan looked clear…I don’t even need to tell you how big my smile was hearing that! I remember thinking to myself, the prayers...they’re working! This roller coaster ride was getting better as the day went on.

Most of the night I stared at her while she slept. I listened to her snore. I kept occupied by working and watching my Pioneers play volleyball online. I knew that even though we had received great news today…there was something weighing on me. Palmer had no idea that she was about to get her Hickman line and her gastric tube placed tomorrow. She didn’t understand that tomorrow was another "no food" day for her.

I won’t lie. I panicked. How was I going to talk to her about this? Would she understand? Was she going to hate me because I was the one telling her these horrible things and letting the doctors put her to sleep yet again.

A little after 8:30 p.m. she woke up with an appetite and some spunk. This was my opportunity I thought to myself…I had to prepare her. We got out the twin babies that they had brought us with a “tubie” and “button” and I explained to her that she was going to be like them tomorrow. We talked about how cool her tubie would be because it’s going to help her get special medicine to fight Lily so she would feel better and that she wouldn’t have to get poked anymore. We talked about how her “button” would help her stay nourished so she could be strong and that she would have to worry about taking medicine because we could use that. After that, we did just what the wonderful team here at Children’s suggested we do…we named them. I mean Lily had a name…they probably should too. For those of you that don’t know, Palmer’s IV has caused so much anxiety, she HATES her tubie in her arm, so I doubt her Hickman will garner much more love, although fingers are crossed. We couldn’t think of a more perfect name that “Terrible Tubie”. When we settled on this I laughed out loud. Palmer decided to name her G tube “Billy Button”, which seemed pretty fitting to me…well for a six-year-old anyways.

We hugged. She told me she loved me. We watched another episode of SpongBob Squarepents. Have you ever watched this show? I have seen so many episodes l basically hate it...it's awful, but it doesn’t hold a candle to what she’s going through.

As the theme song is stuck in my head, I can’t help but wonder…maybe I’d like to live in a pineapple under the sea. Maybe that’s a place with less roller coaster rides, less anxiety…maybe there you’d never have to see your child endure something as awful as cancer and all it entails. For now, I’ll hold my baby girl, we’ll watch Patrick, SpongeBob, Mr. Krabs and all their shenanigans.

As we snuggle, I’ll probably wonder what tomorrow’s 86,400 seconds will bring, but at least I know well enough not to plan.

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All money will be given to the Wilson family to help with gas money, food, and any medical expenses they need help with. 

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Ashley Biddick posted a new update:
about 1 month ago

Update #2

Who Lives in a Pineapple Under the Sea?
Journal entry by Megan Wilson — 10 hours ago

It’s been a two days, one sedated scan, what seemed like 500 Facebook notifications, and 20 episodes of SpongeBob since my last journal entry. Two days…that’s 172,800 seconds and probably ten times that many thoughts, so bear with me as I try to collect them.

First of all, I cannot thank everyone enough for all of the support for our family. Remember in my last journal entry when I said I didn’t think I could be floored anymore...wrong again. Doesn’t seem like I have been right about too many things lately, but…from the bottom of our hearts…thank you for the texts, phone calls, messages, posts, meals, donations, and most of all PRAYERS!!! We have been trying to keep up and respond as much as possible, but I am sure I have missed some and I will likely miss more. Just know how appreciative we are for ALL of you!!

If I’ve learned anything in the last eight days, it’s been that my type-A personality will probably struggle with the uncertainty of all of this, but as one of my best friends would say, it will be a good growth opportunity. Unfortunately Palmer’s PET scan got postponed until today, which meant Monday was just kind of a “chill” day. We had some of my best friends from college and high school stop by for visits. They played games, braided hair, had makeovers, and just chatted with my sleepy little girl. I couldn’t help but think how blessed I was to have such amazing friends in my life…I’m not just talking about these three…but ALL of my amazing friends that have been my rock through this. What a great feeling, right?

Well, get ready for the roller coaster…I couldn’t help but think about all of Palmer’s friends and the parents that have reached out with prayers and well wishes. Then you ache for your child…hoping this nasty disease doesn’t keep her from building the lifelong friendships that you have. I mean there are some friends I’ve been close with since I was her age and there are others that have proven to be true friends in a very short amount of time.

I know she’s got this…she’s stubborn as hell…may or may not have a little of her mom in her, but still…you wonder…you play the “what if” game and then you slap yourself out of it because she needs you right now. You find a way to push those thoughts aside and think about setting up tea parties and play dates. You might even have a little wishful thinking that they may happen as soon as this weekend…then you remind yourself…you really shouldn’t plan anymore.

Thoughts like this quickly made me realize that I needed a break from here, and she probably needed a break from me. I went home late last night to do a load of laundry for us, pack a bag of clothes, and to sleep in a bed. It may have been the hardest thing I’ve done since last Tuesday. Leaving her…growth opportunity I reminded myself.

I was craving structure and normalcy. I got up at 4:30 a.m. to workout with my gym partner-in-crime and it wouldn’t be “normal” unless it was an over-programmed Straka EMOM. I left the gym and wasn't sure which direction to head...I can do this I thought to myself. I went to Platteville. I saw my team…they made me smile without even trying. I went to meetings so I didn’t have to think about what the afternoon was going to bring. This is what normal feels like…I had almost forgotten.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long. Ninety minutes of driving and great conversations with people I love and just like that…I was back. I knew what the afternoon would bring…anxiety for Palmer, another sedation, probably one of the most important tests she will have, and more waiting. Seeing her beautiful face made me forget about all of that. We snuggled. We caught up on all that I had missed since last night. We watched another episode of SpongeBob.

I heard another knock on the door. It was time to take her down for the PET scan. She would be injected with a radioactive substance that we would have to let “work” for 30 minutes before anesthesia would come in to put her sleep Carey told us as he stood in the door way. I immediately saw her tense up and she clung to her bedside. I offered to carry her downstairs and she wrapped her little arms around me so tight…I knew instantly she had so much anxiety. This was going to be her fourth sedation in eight days. When we got outside the room she cried, “No mommy, no! Please don’t let them put me to sleep. I don’t feel good.” I knew she was stalling, but also knew how badly we needed to find out if Lily was anywhere else in her body. I begged and pleaded as I set her down to walk in the room. She wouldn’t budge and that’s when she knelt down on the floor and threw up. I had just witnessed my six-year-old get herself so worked up she made herself sick. My heart was aching for her.

We got her inside and injected with the radioactive substance. We snuggled and she told me how bad her head hurt. I caressed her hair, I whispered in her ear how brave she was, I stared at that clock, and we waited. It wasn’t long before I heard her post-Lily snore start and I was grateful that she was comforted enough to fall asleep. We were able to get her put under anesthesia while she stayed sleeping, and off I went to wait in her room.

Ninety minutes went faster than I thought and the next thing I knew I was in recovery for the fourth time in eight days...she had done it again. As she lay there with her eyes closed, I admired her strength. How could a six-year-old be so resilient? I smiled to myself thinking how incredibly blessed I was to be her mom.

We took her back to her room and Dr. Pucetti bumped into us in the hallway telling us that we had received one of the spinal fluid results back and it was negative. I smiled again, only bigger this time. I watched my baby sleep and another 90 minutes later Dr. Pytel and Dr. Otto came to tell me that the preliminary review of the PET scan looked clear…I don’t even need to tell you how big my smile was hearing that! I remember thinking to myself, the prayers...they’re working! This roller coaster ride was getting better as the day went on.

Most of the night I stared at her while she slept. I listened to her snore. I kept occupied by working and watching my Pioneers play volleyball online. I knew that even though we had received great news today…there was something weighing on me. Palmer had no idea that she was about to get her Hickman line and her gastric tube placed tomorrow. She didn’t understand that tomorrow was another "no food" day for her.

I won’t lie. I panicked. How was I going to talk to her about this? Would she understand? Was she going to hate me because I was the one telling her these horrible things and letting the doctors put her to sleep yet again.

A little after 8:30 p.m. she woke up with an appetite and some spunk. This was my opportunity I thought to myself…I had to prepare her. We got out the twin babies that they had brought us with a “tubie” and “button” and I explained to her that she was going to be like them tomorrow. We talked about how cool her tubie would be because it’s going to help her get special medicine to fight Lily so she would feel better and that she wouldn’t have to get poked anymore. We talked about how her “button” would help her stay nourished so she could be strong and that she would have to worry about taking medicine because we could use that. After that, we did just what the wonderful team here at Children’s suggested we do…we named them. I mean Lily had a name…they probably should too. For those of you that don’t know, Palmer’s IV has caused so much anxiety, she HATES her tubie in her arm, so I doubt her Hickman will garner much more love, although fingers are crossed. We couldn’t think of a more perfect name that “Terrible Tubie”. When we settled on this I laughed out loud. Palmer decided to name her G tube “Billy Button”, which seemed pretty fitting to me…well for a six-year-old anyways.

We hugged. She told me she loved me. We watched another episode of SpongBob Squarepents. Have you ever watched this show? I have seen so many episodes l basically hate it...it's awful, but it doesn’t hold a candle to what she’s going through.

As the theme song is stuck in my head, I can’t help but wonder…maybe I’d like to live in a pineapple under the sea. Maybe that’s a place with less roller coaster rides, less anxiety…maybe there you’d never have to see your child endure something as awful as cancer and all it entails. For now, I’ll hold my baby girl, we’ll watch Patrick, SpongeBob, Mr. Krabs and all their shenanigans.

As we snuggle, I’ll probably wonder what tomorrow’s 86,400 seconds will bring, but at least I know well enough not to plan.

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