New Book!

'Catherine's Story; Expect Miracles' is now available on Amazon. To read the full story of Catherine's experience, you can now download it for £3.50. 

A Christmas Catherine!

Well it is nearly Christmas and Catherine continues to do very well. She is fighting fit and leaping around like any other seven-year-old.

Her stamina and physical abilities are continuing to strengthen following her chemotherapy. She is now grade 4 at swimming - the lessons have really helped her to develop strength and stamina - and she recently received her certificate for 20m. She has great confidence in the water and is developing in her swimming techniques.

At school, she continues to do very well. She is sociable, confident and loves every minute of being at school. Her teacher is really enabling Catherine to achieve her potential, and her school reports have been excellent. This year all the children have forgotten that Catherine was ever ill; memories of Catherine with no hair have disappeared. This means that she is now treated like any other seven-year-old girl which has been fantastic for Catherine. No more sympathetic or odd stares. No more awkward questions for her to deal with. A world full of opportunities for a girl who so definitely deserves them. She still dreams of being a doctor, and is now obsessed with the gruesome medical programmes on CBBC.

At night-time, I go in to my children's bedroom and check on Catherine and her brother. It is only in the silence of the evening that I look at them both, give thanks to God for them and then remember the extra thankyou for strengthening all of us to get Catherine where she is today.

Catherine is looking forward to Christmas. This year she has asked for the usual hotchpotch of strange items from Father Christmas including a carrot costume and a Hello Kitty Chair. I'm not sure how successful Father Christmas will be at finding all the items on this rather bizarre list, but the most important things he will have covered, I'm sure.

Thankyou all for continuing to read Catherine's blog. It continues to have many hits per day and my prayer is that you will find her story inspiring, strengthening and a very real and true account of one little girl's life since 2008.

Four years on!

Last month, it was four years since we were hit as a family by our daughter's diagnosis of Leukaemia, a form of childhood cancer.

It was a traumatic experience.

Two and a bit years of treatment; very intensive at the start.

Countless general anaesthetics, blood tests and syringes of chemotherapy.

A few infections, always coming when least expected, leading to a lot of stress.

Worrying about her falling over in the snow because she didn't have enough platelets (blood clotting cells).

Isolation when immunity counts were low; hospitalization with any temperature over 38degrees.

Hair loss, reactions from other children, threats from simple viruses such as chicken pox.

But also:

God's presence, right in the centre of everything that was happening, guiding, strengthening and protecting.

Wonderful friends, particularly those associated with The Salvation Army. Those who prayed, those who visited and those who made cups of tea. Those who sat with Catherine's parents and chatted and supported.

William Booth College.

Jonathan turning up in full uniform after the diagnosis (in case they turned him away).

Gifts of craft equipment and Catherine's daddy's patience with children's DVD's.

Meals (home cooked) delivered to hospitals 'on legs' rather than on wheels. Ironing done. Washing dealt with. Parents who lovingly kept chicken pox-covered children away from our daughter. Our 'isolation house'.

Fabulous consultants and medical staff, who treated Catherine as if she were their own.

And tomorrow, Catherine will be starting year 3 in her primary school, completely well.

Thankyou God!

Please join with us today to be thankful to God for getting us all through. Be thankful for pray-ers everywhere; over 15,000 of whom prayed for our daughter and many who continue to remember her, and others, in their prayers. Be thankful for the amazing natural rainforest plants, and the great minds who could transform them into Catherine's chemotherapy. Madagascan Periwinkle Plant - we salute you! (Vincristine). Be thankful for trained medical professionals, counsellors and support teams everywhere. Continue to pray for those currently on the journey.

But most of all, be still, and know, that He is God.

A 7th birthday for my one-in-six-million girl

We stand on the threshold of Catherine's seventh birthday amazed at how far she has come.

Looking back four years to the time she was diagnosed, we remember being told treatment would take at least two years and we remember thinking how long that would be! But treatment is over and Catherine is well. God carried us all through that time and even when we felt like it was all too much to bear, God lifted us up, made the situation the easiest possible and got us all through the storm. You may remember me writing that one child in six million receives a diagnosis of leukaemia. Today I think of all the children who have recently started their journey; I remember all the children we met along the way. I remember Wouter who was diagnosed with cancer at a similar time and his inspirational story of healing. I praise God because he is in control of all things.

I wonder whether every birthday will be full of such memories and such gratefulness for the life Catherine is living. With only three more years until the all-clear, I stand in awe of how God has got us through.

Tomorrow, Catherine is 7.

Praise God.

Nearly an anniversary

It is coming up to the anniversary of Catherine's original diagnosis. Since she finished treatment last October she has gained in strength, lost all the extra weight from the steroids and is now running around like any other six-year-old. Despite missing lots of school from her treatment, she is excelling in dance and in literacy and won the end of term certificate for her reading and writing (she did not, however, stand much of a chance of winning 100% attendance!!!).

Since October last year, her mum and dad have begun to heal from the struggle of the preceding two years. I no longer have flashbacks of her treatment and of hospital buildings and procedures (this is something that was a really big struggle after treatment ended, as I had to try and process everything I put on hold in order to cope). I credit Clic Sargeant and Mel for helping me deal with my emotions following my daughter's treatment, both of whom gave me an impartial and important listening ear. My advice to any other parent dealing with this - find someone to talk to outside of your family.

We do not go to the hospital for regular blood tests. The doctors have told us that we would know any signs and symptoms before they needed to do a test. This has really helped us as a family because every time we go to the hospital, we see other families at different stages of treatment and this brings back many feelings and memories. However we still await her 'all-clear' when she is ten years old. That will be a good day!

We continue to thank God for his unbelievable power and sustaining presence in our lives. We continue to pray for every parent and family who is undergoing this horrible and frightening experience. We continue to be amazed at the number of people for whom this blog is an important means of hope and faith. And we still stand amazed that, with God's help, somehow we got through this ordeal.

Catherine now no longer mentions anything to do with her treatment for 'naughty blood cells'. She has long dark blonde hair (which has grown back in rather funky layers) and considers herself to be like any other child. We encourage this. We tried so hard to keep her grounded and strong. It has, however, left her with one very good attitude and slogan. 'Mummy' she will say, 'Andersons never give up'. And we don't. We can't and we wont.

A chink of light in the clouds

Today has been a remarkable day for me as Catherine's mum. I'm not sure what has happened, but I am starting to feel that at last, the knot that has been in the pit of my stomach since Catherine's diagnosis may actually be beginning to untie. Today I have not felt on alert - I have felt free and easy for the first time in ages. I am still fully aware that Catherine had leukaemia and that she still needs blood tests and check-ups for the next four years, but something changed today.

Catherine, by the way, continues to do well and is now back at school after breaking her leg! I met a lady today that told me her daughter still has some leg pain occasionally years after, and whilst I was initially a bit sad about this, I was pleased to know this was possible otherwise the leg pain may have made me jump to some big conclusions (leg pain was the earliest symptom of Catherine's illness).

Anyway, this personal breakthrough doesn't feel like a fleeting moment. I just want those other onco-parents that read our story to know that there is hope and there will be some calm after the storm. Every blessing to you all in your journeys x

Nearly 6!!!

Two weeks from today and Catherine will be 6! Since coming off chemotherapy, Catherine has been doing really well apart from breaking her leg a couple of weeks ago. This means we have to wait until 13th April to celebrate her birthday so that she will be able to have her cast off and dance like she wants to! She has coped so well with having her broken leg. Basically, she did it running into an older boy in the playground. At first I was really worried that the chemo had damaged her bones but it seems the chemo should not have made a difference. It was her lower leg that was damaged and she had to have a general anaesthetic to re-set the bones, not that she was bothered, having had 40+ anaesthetics before!! Her consultant says she is 'healing remarkably well' so I am sure she will get her dream of dancing at her birthday. That reminds me...I'd better start planning a party...

How's it going?

Well, you will be pleased to know that my Catherine is doing really well. She has had some check ups following the end of treatment and all is going well for her. No longer does she struggle to walk long distances, she has colour in her cheeks and her hair is down past her shoulders. No more worry about blood counts, chemotherapy medicines etc. Just one bubbly pretty little mischief who is living her life to the full. What an amazing witness of God's healing and grace.

As a family we are still trying to get to some sense of normality. We have actually booked some holidays this year - unusual as you may remember we could not plan ahead or travel far because of Catherine's two years of treatment. We are still very raw from the whole experience. I still feel very stressed about what happened, and my mind and body are still trying to accept that the threat is over. The lady at ClicSargeant said that it is very normal to feel the anxiety of such a big thing as this AFTER the event. Odd but true. It seems that we can go on autopilot for so long, but when the threat is over, our body and mind has to deal with everything that was put on hold.

So this is Catherine and this is me. We are doing ok but still trying to regain some sense of peace. Prayers would be most welcome. And wherever you are and in whatever you are doing, continue to expect miracles. Dawn x

Praise God

Catherine's blood counts are normal for the first time in two years. Her body is producing only lots of lovely good blood cells and she has grown 2cm since she finished treatment. Today Catherine has a cold, but because she now has an immune system we didn't need to go anywhere near the hospital! Her portacath is being removed next Tuesday under general anaesthetic. Prayers would be welcome for this please. God is Good!

The Godfather

I have been thinking recently about the people who have helped and cared for us whilst we were going through the rubbish that was Catherine's illness, and today I thought I would tell you about her Godfather!

When Catherine was in Leeds hospital, the only friend we had who was nearby was Jonathan. Immediately that he heard about Catherine's diagnosis, he was at the hospital. I remember the first time he visited, in his Salvation Army uniform to make sure he could get to see us (supposedly Army uniform gives a little bit more authority than just wearing civvies!). We were so pleased to see him, and practically every day after that, Jonathan was at the hospital, being a huge emotional support for all of us. He helped me move my stuff in to the 'Home From Home' house for parents of ill children. He even took me to ASDA where we bought some stuff and some very stylish (and funny) slippers for Mark, and he bought copious amounts of chinese take away. He spent his own money travelling to-and-from that hospital, coming to visit even when he had had long days at work. Basically, he was a God-send. And if it wasn't for Jonathan, we would never have had the Pray for Catherine site which still has 1092 members, all who prayed for Catherine to be healed: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=71748450211&v=wall

Jonathan also arranged for Catherine to be prayed for by members of Rick Warren's Saddleback Church (then 15000 people), the General of The Salvation Army and other important figures in the Christian Faith. For this we are so grateful, as it made sure that God was able to do all the miracles we so wanted him to do. So much so that it only seemed right that he became 'The Godfather' to Catherine in April this year. His wife Nikki, who also travelled out of her way to visit Catherine in hospital, is now her Godmother. So now I have fully embarrassed them both, I shall go to bed. But thank you SO MUCH guys. We love you :)

What to say?

Two years of constant stress, worries about infections, side effects of treatment and getting a little girl through chemotherapy have really taken their toll. I am coping and getting through every day and I'm not even depressed. But emotionally there is a knot that I cannot untie. Mention Catherine to me and how great it is that she has finished treatment and you will get the expected 'Yes, it is great isn't it'. But I am not great.

My little girl has got through all this and mentally she is pretty much unscathed. She has a phobia of needles and sometimes talks about when her hair fell out, but otherwise she is doing ok. But all the 'keeping a stiff upper lip' and jollying Catherine along that I have been doing the last couple of years has not been good for me. All the playing down of Catherine's sickness and nausea, all the chivvying along telling her she would be ok, all the bouncing around to try and make her feel better, all the 'making normal' has driven me, quite frankly, mildly insane.

Smiling on the outside whilst my head was screaming 'MY LITTLE GIRL HAS CANCER. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS??????'

Every day thinking and feeling I LOVE MY KID. WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS?

I sat with Catherine tonight on the sofa as she had leg pains. She had been out walking and her legs hurt. I nearly cried there and then. Painful legs were the first symptom of Leukaemia. I remember reading in my home doctor journal two years ago about painful legs and they were either a sign of growing pains or leukaemia. At the time I thought 'growing pains...that must be it. It could NEVER be leukaemia'. Oh how wrong I was.

Now I live my life in a weird sense of tension, constantly on alert. It is almost like I have been through a war zone and am now trying to believe it is over. And whilst I keep trying to fool myself that I am ok and Catherine is doing ok and everything will be fine now, my subconscious mind keeps telling me that life is actually quite dangerous and anything can happen at any time. Seriously, if in the next few days some trick-or-treater comes up and whispers 'boo' over my shoulder, I will leap out of my skin!

It isn't just Catherine's illness that I have dealt with over the past few years. I was diagnosed with heart failure after the birth of Catherine's brother and was told that I might live or die and that it was too early to tell (I was diagnosed April this year). Miraculously, God healed my heart but even after a miracle, I still feel like I have been in the trenches for too long.

So there you have it! And whilst I am so grateful to God for his healing of my child, and whilst I am so lucky that medical treatments mean she is still here, I am hurting. And I imagine that Suzanne is probably the only other person who reads this who might have some understanding of what on earth I am going on about...but then again there may be others and I might be wrong...

12/10/2010

12/10/2010 - the final day of Catherine's treatment.

A much different day from 25/8/2008.
You may remember the blog posts from those early days:
http://catherineisgreat.blogspot.com/2008/08/discussion-with-specialist.html

Our Consultant is very pleased with her and is now referring her to a surgeon to have her portacath removed. We await the results of her bone marrow tests tomorrow. These tests check the bone marrow to make sure her cells are all working correctly and that all signs of disease have gone.

Our consultant says that based on the type of leukaemia she experienced and her responsiveness to treatment, statistically it is highly unlikely that it would return. She will be monitored closely for the next two years and will continue to receive check-ups until she receives the final 'all-clear' when she is ten. So whilst the treatment is over, for which we are so thankful after two years of constantly being 'on alert', we have to adapt to a different normal again. Catherine will receive monthly blood tests to begin with via a 'finger prick'. She feels pretty confident about having these tests done but is now starting to ask lots of questions about her treatment. Tonight she asked about what they did whilst she was having 'wobbly medicine' (general anaesthetic) - she has never asked about this in such detail before. She has also asked about writing her own story down to give to her school teacher as one of her homework projects.

She has also asked about when we are having a party to celebrate the end of her medicines. I replied that after she has her portacath removed, we will plan something special for her!

Thankyou so much for your support and prayers x

Tomorrow we are taking Catherine for her final bone marrow test and chemotherapy. It feels like it has been a long journey getting to this point, but one we have travelled with God. I feel it will be a hard day tomorrow. Catherine cannot eat until after her general anaesthetic and that may be at 3pm! I am hoping and praying that all goes well.

Photo evidence of the last days...

Evidence of the last dose of daily chemotherapy. Here we have on the right, 'strawberry medicine', otherwise known as mercaptapurine. The left syringe is 'banana medicine' otherwise known as Septrin (to stop lung infections). The middle syringe is Dexamethazone, otherwise known as 'grumpy medicine' (Catherine's steroid). A daily occurrence that is no more...only Septrin for a little bit longer.

Final bone marrow test and final chemotherapy

On Tuesday Catherine is having a general anaesthetic and her final bone marrow test to check that she is completely well. She will also be having the last intrathecal chemotherapy into her spinal fluid. Please pray that this all goes well. We are getting so close to the end. By the end of this month, Catherine's treatment will be over :)

Last daily chemo is TONIGHT!

This week we have seen the very last of Catherine's steroid treatment and tonight Catherine's daily chemo comes to an end! It will be very odd for Mark not to be giving her the nightly syringes of medicine. We now await a time for Catherine's final bone marrow test which will look at her cells to ensure she is completely well before stopping treatment. Thankyou for your ongoing prayers :)

Last Steroids - Whoop Whoop!!!!

Yesterday, Catherine had her last Vincristine chemotherapy. This means that this is the LAST TIME we are ever going to have to give Catherine the steroids that make her feel so miserable and low. I am delighted. No more 'grumpy medicine'. No more Catherine feeling really rubbish. All we have now is a few more days left of her daily chemotherapy medicines. It really is all coming to an end.

Today I asked her how she felt about coming to the end of her treatment. She replied that she was nervous and excited but that she is scared about having to have all her immunisations again. She has developed a real fear of needles and I am not sure yet the best way to tackle this. I think I will need to talk this through with her consultant.

Leeds 2008

Catherine - my one-in-six-million girl

As Catherine's treatment gets closer to ending, my head is going into overdrive. I keep having flashbacks. Vivid flashbacks of the beginning of her treatment that just interrupt my usual daily thinking. I've found I can divide these into a few main images:

1. Mark and I wandering round the carpark at Jimmy's hospital trying to phone Lorraine, our support officer on our study placement, minutes after Catherine had just been diagnosed.

2. Being in the isolation room at Jimmy's, with Catherine, then aged 3, hooked up to 'melody' her drip (so-called because melody bleeped and was musical)

3. The day at The Royal Marsden when they couldn't get the cannula into one of Catherine's veins. It took five attempts because the chemo had made her veins less visible. The following day, they put a portacath in.

4. Speaking to the lovely surgeon after he had completed her surgery to implant the portacath.

5. Eating in the canteen at Leeds and staying at the 'Home from Home.'

I have been told that these flashbacks are known as 'processing'; I don't like it very much. I've also become abnormally sensitive to anything about children's cancer or hospice care. I was in the bank the other day and there was a collection bin raising funds for Butterwick Children's Hospice. Fancy trying to speak to the cashier whilst holding back tears! Very bizarre. Also the charity bags that come through or door to raise funds for children's hospices and cancer care just set everything off in my mind. Occasionally I look at her and the thought crosses my mind that without God and the medical profession she wouldn't be here now. Every birthday since her diagnosis I have just been like 'wow'. Fabulous!!!

Our Consultant tells us that this is probably going to be the hardest part of our journey - Catherine stopping chemo. We have been on 'alert' and just dealing with getting Catherine through this for two years and we now have to come to terms with what has happened. I still think that the early days of diagnosis were the hardest, but the 15,000+ people praying for Catherine certainly shared the burden and played a huge part in her healing (thankyou, Jonathan, for setting that up for us - your Goddaughter loves you and so do we).

We still have two years of checks to go until Catherine is given the all-clear. She is in remission, which came unusually early of course (God is good), but it is now time to adapt to another new way of life. Catherine cannot remember a time without medicines and hospital trips to see her Consultant. I imagine this blog will be used quite a lot in the next few months. It will be a place to share memories and Catherine's progress. It will be a place to give thanks and let everyone know the people that most helped in her treatment - the friends and the medical professionals who have done so much.

So there will be more to read in the coming days, and as Catherine has taught us, we should always continue to expect miracles. She was the one in six million children that was diagnosed with leukaemia. Now she is healed we can all look forward to the blog entries of 'what Catherine did next' :)