I'm interrupting my blogging about France because I wanted to write about something while it was still fresh on my mind. I guess that's how it's going to be until I can get caught up. Cy and Sayer's 34 year old teacher, Mrs. McGee, has breast cancer. Her mother died at a young age, when Mrs. McGee was 14 years old. She also had several other female relatives that also died from breast cancer. She decided to get the BRCA test to determine her chances of getting cancer and it came back positive. I am not too knowledgeable about this test, but apparently, if it comes back positive, it's not a question of if, but when. They also detected a mass on one of her ovaries. The doctors decided that it was in her best interest to take a preemptive strike and to get a double mastectomy and a hysterectomy.
She had the mastectomy first and the doctors, after doing tests on her every three months for the past several years, were horrified to find breast cancer. They were also concerned that it was starting to spread into the lymph nodes in one arm. Because there were no signs of breast cancer before the mastectomy, they didn't take any biopsies of the lymph nodes. The Tuesday before Christmas, she had a full hysterectomy and they also took lymph nodes from the arm where they suspected the cancer had spread to.
This has obviously been so hard on Mrs. McGee and her family and also on the kids. She is such a great teacher and worries so much about each student. She gave each of her students a slinky and play-doh and this letter:
"Dear Students,
By now Mrs. Crandall has come and shared my sad news with you. It's very hard to hear news like this. It makes me especially sad because it means I won't get to come back and be with you nearly as soon as I thought. One of our class codes talks about being in charge both of ourselves and of our consequences. This is an important code to remember at a time like this. I don't get to choose whether or not to have cancer, but I do get to choose how to face it. I want you to know that I choose to be happy and excited about life everyday, even when it's really hard. And I choose to do all the things that my doctors tell me so that I can get back to being with you as soon as possible. I hope you will choose to be happy too.
I was thinking about play-doh and slinkies. Besides being super fun to play with they remind me about life. You never really know what challenges you're going to face. It is important to be flexible like a slinky and able to adapt and change to face these new challenges as they come just like play-doh. Play-doh can be molded and shaped again and again to meet whatever new circumstances comes its way.
Right now we have some pretty hard new challenges to face. I hope you will choose to be flexible like a slinky and to be able to adapt and mold yourself to new challenges like play-doh. I hope you will work hard to do what you should and go forward with happiness and excitement about life. That's what I am going to do. You are my amazing class. I am so proud of you. Please know that I miss you all very much.
Merry Christmas.
Love, Mrs. McGee"
After learning the news of her upcoming surgeries, the kids decided they wanted to do the 12 days of Christmas for her family with the help of a few parents. I had the pleasure of taking five of the kids (two of them being mine), to deliver the gifts on Sunday, the 18th. As each of the kids arrived at my home, I could just sense their excitement and anticipation. We all piled in the car and it was so fun to just observe the planning and how they were going to deliver the gifts without getting caught. They decided they all needed to put their hoods on and they referred to themselves as the "elf ninjas". When we got there, we scoped things out and decided where the meeting point would be. I watched from the car with tears in my eyes as five 11 and 12 year olds secretly delivered the gifts and then hid behind a dumpster and jumped up and down with excitement while waiting for each other. They got in the car and talked about it the whole way home. One of the little boys, Trevor, said at least twice, "This is the best Sunday I've ever had."
Every year I wait for it... you know what I'm talking about... that Christmas feeling, when everything is right in the world. When, like the Grinch, your heart grows three sizes and feels like it's going to burst out of your chest. I felt it that night, Christmas was here.
We were at the Dunkley family party on Friday, the 23rd, when Sayer came running up to me with my phone in hand. "Mom, mom, she's going to be ok! The results are good!" She had pulled up Mrs. McGee's blog (www.charlottemcgee.blogspot.com) on my phone and had seen her most recent post saying that the doctors had called and wanted to give her the news before Christmas, that the cancer had not spread to her lymph nodes and the growth on her ovary was benign. Wow! What great news. She was still going to have to go through chemo therapy, but still, such good news!
The next day, on Christmas Eve, a bunch of the students met that morning to go to Mrs. McGee's house to reveal that they had been doing the 12 days of Christmas. I was lucky enough to drive a group to her house. They had made arrangements with her husband to come in just for a few minutes and sing a few carols for her. I had my big, huge sunglasses on thinking they would hide the inevitable tears but they weren't big enough. All these cute little kids filed into her home where she was sitting on the couch. They had made a giant card for her and gave it to her. She couldn't even talk but just kept wiping tears and putting her hand to her heart. She managed to ask the kids how they were doing and get out a quiet, "thank you" but that was about all her emotions would allow. We quickly left so she could rest but I hope that feeling never leaves. I told all the kids on the way home to always remember how they felt and I hope, especially, that the twins never forget. Miracles happen and I am grateful.
This has obviously been so hard on Mrs. McGee and her family and also on the kids. She is such a great teacher and worries so much about each student. She gave each of her students a slinky and play-doh and this letter:
"Dear Students,
By now Mrs. Crandall has come and shared my sad news with you. It's very hard to hear news like this. It makes me especially sad because it means I won't get to come back and be with you nearly as soon as I thought. One of our class codes talks about being in charge both of ourselves and of our consequences. This is an important code to remember at a time like this. I don't get to choose whether or not to have cancer, but I do get to choose how to face it. I want you to know that I choose to be happy and excited about life everyday, even when it's really hard. And I choose to do all the things that my doctors tell me so that I can get back to being with you as soon as possible. I hope you will choose to be happy too.
I was thinking about play-doh and slinkies. Besides being super fun to play with they remind me about life. You never really know what challenges you're going to face. It is important to be flexible like a slinky and able to adapt and change to face these new challenges as they come just like play-doh. Play-doh can be molded and shaped again and again to meet whatever new circumstances comes its way.
Right now we have some pretty hard new challenges to face. I hope you will choose to be flexible like a slinky and to be able to adapt and mold yourself to new challenges like play-doh. I hope you will work hard to do what you should and go forward with happiness and excitement about life. That's what I am going to do. You are my amazing class. I am so proud of you. Please know that I miss you all very much.
Merry Christmas.
Love, Mrs. McGee"
After learning the news of her upcoming surgeries, the kids decided they wanted to do the 12 days of Christmas for her family with the help of a few parents. I had the pleasure of taking five of the kids (two of them being mine), to deliver the gifts on Sunday, the 18th. As each of the kids arrived at my home, I could just sense their excitement and anticipation. We all piled in the car and it was so fun to just observe the planning and how they were going to deliver the gifts without getting caught. They decided they all needed to put their hoods on and they referred to themselves as the "elf ninjas". When we got there, we scoped things out and decided where the meeting point would be. I watched from the car with tears in my eyes as five 11 and 12 year olds secretly delivered the gifts and then hid behind a dumpster and jumped up and down with excitement while waiting for each other. They got in the car and talked about it the whole way home. One of the little boys, Trevor, said at least twice, "This is the best Sunday I've ever had."
Every year I wait for it... you know what I'm talking about... that Christmas feeling, when everything is right in the world. When, like the Grinch, your heart grows three sizes and feels like it's going to burst out of your chest. I felt it that night, Christmas was here.
We were at the Dunkley family party on Friday, the 23rd, when Sayer came running up to me with my phone in hand. "Mom, mom, she's going to be ok! The results are good!" She had pulled up Mrs. McGee's blog (www.charlottemcgee.blogspot.com) on my phone and had seen her most recent post saying that the doctors had called and wanted to give her the news before Christmas, that the cancer had not spread to her lymph nodes and the growth on her ovary was benign. Wow! What great news. She was still going to have to go through chemo therapy, but still, such good news!
The next day, on Christmas Eve, a bunch of the students met that morning to go to Mrs. McGee's house to reveal that they had been doing the 12 days of Christmas. I was lucky enough to drive a group to her house. They had made arrangements with her husband to come in just for a few minutes and sing a few carols for her. I had my big, huge sunglasses on thinking they would hide the inevitable tears but they weren't big enough. All these cute little kids filed into her home where she was sitting on the couch. They had made a giant card for her and gave it to her. She couldn't even talk but just kept wiping tears and putting her hand to her heart. She managed to ask the kids how they were doing and get out a quiet, "thank you" but that was about all her emotions would allow. We quickly left so she could rest but I hope that feeling never leaves. I told all the kids on the way home to always remember how they felt and I hope, especially, that the twins never forget. Miracles happen and I am grateful.
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