An Extraordinary Friendship

It's been another long break between blogs ... again, it's been difficult to find time, mostly because I'm caught up with work and family 'stuff'.

For this entry though, I am writing about my teenage son's best friend, Laura.

My boy met Laura four years ago, when they were both 12 and in their first year of high school. They became friends quickly, and were funny to see together because of their differences - he was so tall for his age and she was very short, he was shy and awkward while she was cheeky and energetic.

We used to gently tease him about the friendship, implying that she was his girlfriend. This was never actually the case though ... these were two young people who found each other at a time when they both needed an extra friend; both were showing signs of mild depression and struggling to find their way, like so many kids that age.

They could talk about anything. They connected in a way that a lot of people would be jealous of, if they knew the extent of it. There were never any arguments, no judgement, just an honest friendship. They could share their most personal feelings, but also tease and laugh at each other.

Then, when she was 13, Laura was diagnosed with cancer. 'Malignant peripheral nerve sheath tumour' was the official name for it, or MPNST. It's a type of sarcoma, usually with a genetic link, but not in Laura's case, which made hers a very rare cancer - 1 in 7 million. This nasty little cluster of cells had wrapped itself around a nerve in her leg and would change the course of her life entirely. She was whisked away to Brisbane, where she underwent surgery, followed by months of chemotherapy. My boy was, naturally, very concerned ... but we kept in touch with her family and I took him to Brisbane to see her a couple of times between treatments. Of course, they were also able to keep in touch via their phones and Facebook, messaging constantly.

Laura and her family would all count as some of the most positive people we've ever known. Their attitude was always that this 'thing' could be beaten and that they would get back to their farm, their goats and their crazy happy life. After a lengthy period of treatment, and left with a limp, Laura was declared cancer-free and able to go home in 2014. We were all pleased that she could be back in familiar surroundings and life went on as normal for a while.

Then, at Christmas and after 20 weeks in remission, the cancer came back. This time it was in her lung. She was rushed back to Brisbane, for more consultations and treatments. Again, we kept a close watch on what was going on, as well as on our boy - worrying about how he would cope if anything went wrong.

So, when the cancer spread and it became apparent that she wouldn't make it after all, I had to break the news to him. It doesn't matter that he towers over me, the need to wrap him in my arms and make the pain go away will always be there. The hardest thing as a parent is to know that there are some things you just can't fix for your child. Grief and loss is something they have to work through in their own way. I simply asked that he talk when he needed to, rather than withdrawing the way he did when his grandfather died a few years ago. He promised he would and, thankfully, he has. To me, to his friends ... I've never heard him open up about anyone so much before, or seen him so willing to come and ask for a hug when he needed one.

Laura passed away on September 10th, two years after her first diagnosis and just two weeks before her 16th birthday. I took my boy to Brisbane to see her in hospital the day before she died, when we knew the end was near. They had some time alone together and said a final goodbye - and they both knew that's what it was. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for both of them.

Her funeral, just a few days ago, was a large, colourful affair ... as she wanted it to be. The theme was Cosplay (fancy dress), or gold/yellow (for childhood cancer). The coffin was painted in her favourite colour and covered in her artwork, lovingly reproduced by her family. There were tears, as well as laughter, singing and dancing, and her spirit was honoured beautifully. Afterwards, many of us went out to her farm, to join her family around a campfire, to talk and laugh and share memories. We walked around the property, visiting some of her favourite spots and looking at where her family will create a memorial garden. At one point, later in the evening, my boy looked up to the sky and pointed out a cloud formation to me - it was in the shape of a giant hand. He said, 'It's like Laura's giving us all a high five.' I'd like to think he was right.

His grief is palpable, and it will take a long time for him to get over losing her. He has other friends, even other 'best' friends, but the connection he had with her was special. He has had to do a lot of growing up in a short time, and it has been (and will continue to be) a difficult journey ... but I'm sure she will always be with him.

There is no way I can write enough in this blog to honour the person Laura was. Trying different treatments in order to help future cancer sufferers, going out of her way to spend time with other patients and cheer them up, her kooky sense of humour, her love of art - music, animation, drawing and dancing, her sassy attitude and determination right to the end ... and that she worried most about how her loved ones were coping. Those are the things we will always remember.

Our Roller Coaster Ride

I'm ashamed to say I have let my blog slip in recent times, while we've been having a hectic few months in the Crazy Cave.

In all honesty, I haven't felt much like blogging. The problem is, I like to keep it light and happy ... which can sometimes feel false when there hasn't been a lot of 'light and happy' going on.

We've been on a roller coaster ride with our teenagers .. and I don't mean the fun kind. I know everyone has trouble with their teens; it's a pretty standard thing for most parents to experience at some point. We go through all the usual issues - they argue with us over chores, they want more money to spend, they want to spend time with friends we may not approve of. At times, they don't like school, don't like their brother or sister, don't like us. Standard stuff that I'm sure most parents can relate to.

However, when issues such as bullying, social pressure and depression come into play, things get more serious. I've learned some things I never wanted to know about first-hand.

- I know how hard it is to keep sending your child to school when they are still being bullied and shamed over lies that were spread by another student over a year ago.

- I know how much pressure the school system can put on students by expecting them to know what they want to do with the rest of their lives, when most of them don't even know what they'll be doing on the weekend.

- I know what a struggle it is to watch your child not fitting in with that same school system, where it's mostly about making the school look good rather than helping students who are struggling.

- I know how it feels to take your child to a psychologist, and buy them anti-depressant medication.

- I know how surreal it feels to have to search your child's room for anything they may self-harm with. It's amazing (and scary) to discover what 'tools' they will utilise for the purpose.

- I even know what it feels like to hear that my child has been physically attacked by another teen, resulting in a visit to the hospital and the police station and a subsequent assault charge.

I've mixed up that list, to avoid singling out which of our teens has had which issues ... but when you read through it, it's all pretty scary. All this while dealing with another family member having an extended hospital stay for a fairly serious condition, plus the usual family issues (work, bills, etc) and my poor Caveman struggling with his Chronic Fatigue Syndrome - it's mostly under control, but always hovering in the background, and exacerbated by stress! For a time there, I worried about my own mental health ... with so much happening, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and just want to run away from everything. I usually don't mind that I don't have close friends nearby, but there have been times over the past 6 months when I could have done with someone, outside of family, to confide in over a coffee.

I believe it's our job to give our kids loving support and let them know they can achieve anything, so it was probably natural to feel like a failure as a parent when I realised that my children felt worthless. I try to remind them not to compare themselves to all the other kids who seem to be so successful. We are all on our own individual journeys and what we present to the outside world is only a small facet of who we are - and let's face it, we don't put the really bad stuff out there for anyone. I'm only bringing it up now because it's easier to talk about after things have settled down.

One of our teens has now left high school. 'Dropped out', is probably the official term, but is it really dropping out when leaving the school is the best option available? That child is now a much happier person, attending another educational centre where everyone learns at their own pace. The environment is a good, friendly one and the staff are supportive of all their students, regardless of ability.

Our other teen seems to be coping better with their issues too, and the two of them are getting along much better these days. Maybe each having their struggles has brought them closer? They've certainly both matured and grown through their experiences, and made me even more proud of them than I already was.

I've learned something else during the past few months (although, really, it was something I already knew). It's the importance of hugging my child, whether they think they need it or not ... because we all do.

Scaling the Heights

When you have tall people in the family, you get used to 'hiring' them out to strangers.

It isn't unusual for us to be approached in the supermarket by shorter people, asking if my husband can get something down off the top shelf for them. He always says yes and usually jokes with them that they, in return, should get him something from the bottom shelf, 'so I don't have to bend all the way down there.'

Last week, it happened with my teenager. We were in Brisbane and had called in at Hungry Jacks to grab some lunch before driving home. I was standing in line with my boys, waiting to order, when I was approached by an older woman who said, 'Excuse me, would I please be able to borrow your son?'

My boy is 195 cm tall, so I figured it would be for something height-related. It turned out the lady's grandson, a toddler, was stuck inside the very top of the structure in the HJ's playground.  She had asked the girl behind the counter for help, but the girl didn't think she'd be able to fit in there (my teen, apart from being tall, is also very slim).

So, off went both of my boys to help. My Littlest Caveman was able to get right up inside the structure himself and find exactly where the toddler was. The poor little thing had managed to get all the way up there to sit in the 'helicopter' seat, but then couldn't get back down. Once they had located him, my bigger boy was able, with some maneuvering, to get himself up there to retrieve him.

On a side note, it's actually quite funny watching a tall, lanky teenager trying to bend his body around all the twists and turns in one of those playgrounds! There is a reason the rules say the maximum height for children to play is 120cm.

He managed to get the little boy down, bit by bit, through the structure - much to the relief of the toddler and his grandma - then we had our lunch and drove home, feeling very proud that we'd been able to help.

The real bonus for my big boy, of course, was that he got to climb around in a HJ's playground ... he hasn't been allowed to do that for years!

Cat seeks New Humans

Our cat, the lovely Miss Emmy, unintentionally found herself the centre of drama last night.

She had appeared at the back door limping, with her front right leg held in the air and her paw at a strange angle. That was enough to send the household into a bit of a panic. Nobody knew what she'd done, but it didn't look good.

I was just finishing work when the Caveman rang to tell me, so I drove home and we organised a quick trip to the Veterinary Clinic (on a Sunday night. Thank goodness for our Vet's after hours service!). The poor cat yowled all the way in the car - she doesn't enjoy car travel at all.

The nice young vet, Anne, got Emmy out of the carrier cage and put her on the floor to see how she walked, but it was difficult to tell at that angle exactly what was wrong. So, she picked her up again and tried to set her down on the examination table. It was at this point that I noticed something strange. One of Emmy's claws was hooked up on her collar.  I didn't think anything of it, just leaned over to release it and said, 'Oh, poor thing, her claw's hooked."

It was as I unhooked it for her, and she sat it down perfectly neatly on the table, that it suddenly hit me ... that had been the problem the whole time.

Well, how embarrassing. We looked at each other rather sheepishly and then all burst out laughing - even Anne! It was such a relief to know that Emmy was okay, but we couldn't believe that was all the problem was. Luckily, Anne was fantastic about it. I think we lightened up her night somewhat (after all, a vet who has been called in to work Sunday evening is obviously not usually dealing with such a lighthearted situation). She checked Emmy over thoroughly for us afterwards, just to make sure she was okay after having her claw stuck in the collar for so long, then thanked us for the funny story and sent us on our way. No charge.

Our poor cat was grumpy with us for a while afterwards though ... and who can blame her? Fancy owning such dumb humans that they don't even realise when your claw is caught in your collar, then they take you for a car ride (which they know you hate), only to let a stranger look in your mouth, listen to your heart and stick a thermometer .... well, you know where.

I'm sure Emmy was glad to have her paw set free, but she did give us the 'silent treatment' for the rest of the night!

Taking The Plunge

We went to Aussie World the other day - a theme park on the Sunshine Coast - where I discovered I'm not as young as I used to be. I mean, it sounds obvious right? Of course we're all getting older. But some things (like roller coasters!) do rather bring the point home.

To be honest, we almost didn't go at all. The weather that morning looked like it was going to be awful. It was overcast and miserable, with regular heavy showers at our place. We talked with the kids about the possibility of leaving our excursion for another time, but they weren't keen, so we decided to take our chances and go anyway.

Then we were hit with heavy rain on the drive there. REALLY heavy. Like, 'can hardly see the car in front' heavy. There was much discussion in our car about whether it was worth continuing. In the end, we agreed to make the final decision once we were there and standing in the car park.

As it turned out, the car park was lovely. The skies were grey and threatening above, but there wasn't any actual rain falling. We spoke to a staff member, who assured us that rain wouldn't shut the whole place down - one attraction was closed due to the wet weather, but most of the others would stay open regardless. On this information. we decided it was worth spending our money and heading in...

Where we proceeded to have a great time! I haven't been to a theme park for decades and I love the whole fairground atmosphere. Sideshow alley, Dodgem Cars, a Ferris wheel, roller coasters, mini golf ... there really did seem to be something for everyone, The Cavegirl had been there before with friends, which was a bonus for her - she knew exactly what she wanted to do and loved showing the rest of us around. A lot of our enjoyment also came from watching the Littlest Caveman enjoy his first experience of a theme park. It turns out he's a bit like his Dad, not too keen on anything that makes his stomach 'feel funny'. The two of them particularly enjoyed the mini golf and Dodgem Cars.

Meanwhile I, remembering how much I loved roller coasters as a teenager (and completely ignoring all the times I threw up afterwards), laughed heartily at my husband for being a 'wuss' and agreed to go on more adventurous rides. Bad idea. This is what made me realise I'm getting older. It turns out any rides that make my stomach drop really don't agree with me anymore either. There was one I went on, with my girl, which left me feeling very green afterwards.

Probably the only adventurous ride I did enjoy was 'The Plunge'. It was still scary though, when it came to the big drop. See that picture above? That's the Caveman and me braving the ride together, although you can't see us for the splash. Luckily, you can't hear us either. I'd like to say I screamed all the way down, but what I actually did was let out one big swear word all the way down. The Cavegirl assures me the word is quite audible on the recording she took too, although I haven't watched it myself yet.

Despite this, I would go on The Plunge again. I could enjoy the big drop now that I've done it and know what to expect. I also enjoyed the Dodgem Cars and the mini golf (and I stopped laughing at my husband for avoiding the roller coasters).

And you know what? It didn't rain once!

Twelve Days of Panic

School is over for another year - yay! - and everyone is gearing up for Christmas. We are twelve days out from the big day as I write this, just long enough for me to be worried about whether we'll get everything done in time.

I still have presents to buy and wrap, decorations to put up (the tree is done, so that's something) and the house to clean. The 'lived in' look is good, but we don't want our guests tripping over toys and shoes when they walk in the door.

Then there's the lawn to mow, now that we've had a few days of rain and the grass has put on a growth spurt that would put a teenager to shame.

That's all without even considering the food for the day. Everyone contributes, but I still have to organise my part. The great thing about this is that I have help - the Cavegirl loves to create in the kitchen. Not just a mess (although she does that too), but actual food! We just have to do the shopping for the ingredients and she's set to go.

The tricky thing is in organising everything around work commitments. This is a new challenge I'm facing this year. Anyone who has been following my blog knows that being back in the workforce is a fairly new thing for me (I did a little happy dance when I reached the 6 month mark at work a couple of weeks ago!). In previous years, I had so much time to devote to getting Christmas organised and I would usually start well in advance. Putting presents on layby at the shops in October, or ordering gifts online with a month still to go. I would spend weeks 'creating' a personalised calendar on the Big W or Harvey Norman websites for our parents, simply because I had the time to do it. Last year I ordered calendars for four different family members - and each one was different - as well as Christmas cards with a photo of our family on the front to send to everyone.

This year I just haven't had the time. With my work roster, and the Caveman working as well, Christmas really has crept up on us. Neither of us work for companies that close down over the holiday period either, so it is a case of organising things as we get the opportunity. I have no idea what most members of our family would like this Christmas and I haven't even sent all my Christmas cards ... and they're from the shops - no photo this year!

The important thing, as I sit here thinking about all of this, is to appreciate the little things we do have time for. We might not have sat for a family photo, but we are all together. We will have Christmas lunch with extended family on the day and have a fantastic time, as we always do. As with every other year, no matter how well organised it is, or how many presents are under the tree, the most important thing is spending it with the people we love.

That's what will be remembered - and hopefully I'll be forgiven if I have to resort to giving everyone a pair of socks bought the day before!

It's the White Time

I have ignored my blog for a while, mainly because this time of the year gets a bit hectic.

School is finishing up, so there are exams and assorted commitments for the kids, as well as getting organised for Christmas - which is coming up fast!

One of the activities keeping us busy right now is the cricket season. Both my boys, as well as the Caveman, play cricket every Saturday during the warmer months of the year. (Personally I think they should only play in Winter, since it's so hot here, but Cricket Australia haven't put me in charge yet.)

Every Sunday my clothesline is a sea of white, with three sets of long pants and shirts - the 'whites' that they all wear to play cricket.

A lot of people find cricket boring to watch. I know I certainly do sometimes! Although, it doesn't help when our life seems to revolve around it every Summer.

The Caveman asked me once why I don't seem to enjoy cricket as much as I did when we first met. My answer was, 'That was before I married it!"

Of course, now I'm a Cricket Mum as well, so it looks like I really am stuck with the game for the long term.

The thing is, I do mostly enjoy watching cricket. I especially like watching my boys play - I guess motherly pride overcomes boredom! I used to find it difficult to watch my teen play when he was little, worrying about him not doing as well as he'd like, or even getting hurt. It's not so bad now that he's older. He plays in the senior competition with grown men and he's quite capable of matching it with them.

The littlest Caveman is still fairly new to cricket, playing in an under 9's group. He loves it so far and, with the training he gets from his big brother in their backyard games, he's probably going to be very capable too.

I do occasionally suffer from cricket overload, when all the male members of the family play on the weekend and then want to watch it on TV through the week as well (and as any fan will tell you, a cricket match is not a short game!).

Luckily, the Caveman understands that both I and our Cavegirl get sick of cricket at times. He tends to be careful about how much he watches on TV and is teaching the boys to be considerate about it as well. And in return, we will go along and watch their more important games when we can.

After all, every player deserves to have their own personal cheer squad ;-)