Princess Groovy Chick And Her Big Brother.

As we go through Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, I am continuing to feature posts written (and posted) back in Sarah’s cancer days.

 Some of you who have been reading here a while may remember that one of Sarah’s nicknames from during the time she was in treatment was Princess Groovy Chick. Today I’d like to revisit where that name came from. 

In the summer of 2003, six months after her bone marrow transplant,  Sarah had been working on getting up the courage to wear a tank top with spaghetti straps. Her main concern about wearing that type of shirt was that the scars at the top of her chest would show–she had a matching scar set, with one on each side.

The day finally arrived when she made the momentous decision that she going to do it! She was going take the tank top plunge and wear something that all the other girls were wearing–scars or no scars. So off we went to Walmart to make this most important purchase.

Sarah had an appointment at the hospital the following morning for blood work. As soon as she got out of bed, she happily donned her new stylish shirt and carefully searched through her small stash of jewelry until she had found the perfect little necklace to go with it. She then brushed her tiny crop of curls and away we went together to our twenty bazillionth hospital visit.

As we were approaching the front of the building (holding hands, as always), she happened to catch a reflection of herself in the glass doors. When she stopped stock still for a moment, I glanced over at her just in time to see a small, pleased grin spread across her face.

I could read that grin so clearly. It said, “Hey, I look pretty good! Tank top, necklace, hair—I’m starting to look like a regular girl again!”

Her self-esteem had taken such a beating during the months of treatment with extreme weight loss, numerous scars, hair loss, nose tubes, pale skin and shadowed eyes.  I always took any chance I could to affirm her loveliness so when I saw that she was feeling uncharacteristically pleased with her appearance I jumped right in and said, “Sarah, honey, you are looking so pretty today!”

She beamed.

“And in that cute tank top, you look extra groovy!”

She beamed some more.

“In fact, you look so groovy that I think I’m going to start calling you Princess Groovy Chick!”

This whole announcement was greeted with a shining smile from the newly christened PGC . And voila!  A new name was born.

She sauntered, strutted and swaggered her way into that hospital because for the first time in a very long time, she felt like a normal girl–pretty and stylish and yes, even groovy. I smiled (and cried simultaneously) watching her newly hatched joy, watching her make the transition in her mind from “I am a seriously ill, sickly looking child” to “I am a normal looking girl!.”

That funny, precious name will always remind me of that memorable day on our journey when for a few moments at least, my daughter escaped the shadow of cancer that hung over her life and be-bopped her way down a hospital hall feeling like a million bucks.

Although I can’t find the picture I have of her in her beloved tank top, I did find one that commemorated the day when she got barrettes to stay in her hair. Good times!

This was taken at Ronald McDonald House in New York City; I remember that she felt pretty spiffy in this particular ensemble. You can see that little bit of hair starting to appear under her hat which was such a big deal.

SUMMER 2003

Last week, a friend from church gave Sarah two new dresses. As Sarah was trying them on, she looked in the mirror and said, “Oh, I look like I’m ready to go to a ball!”

Well, that thought immediately caused her to start dancing around the room, arms gracefully spread out in a perfect Princess Groovy Chick Ballet Pose. After she had twirled around by herself for a while, I grabbed her hand and we twirled around together which was a pretty interesting sight since I am decidedly rhythmically ungifted.

And then for our big dancing finale’ (you would have had to see it to believe it) we enthusiastically tangoed together across the room until we collapsed on the couch in a fit of giggles.

When Sarah had recovered from that foray into hysteria, she then danced her way over to the chair where Snowy was dozing, bowed low in front of him, extended her hand and started singing, “Take me out to the ball game.”

Well, that bit of hilarity got to be too much for her and overcome by her own wit, she was consumed by additional guffaws. Snowy merely cracked open one eyelid, ascertained that there was no food in the offing, and closed it again. While he’s not known for his great intelligence, that was probably a pretty smart move—he knew he was outnumbered by too many giggling women for his own good.

Fall 2005

Even when Sarah’s active treatment finally came to a close, she still had to go to Duke on a regular basis for follow up.  One day at school she caught word that another student  had said that she talked about her trips to Duke (and accompanying blood draws, scans, etc) just to get attention. This child said a few other unkind things as well, which Sarah told me about when she got home.

Of course, being a protective mamma bear, I was tempted to get all upset but surprisingly enough, Sarah was fairly low key about it. Since I didn’t want to respond in a way that would make her upset than she needed to be, I just said we needed to pray for this child and move on. Sarah said, “Yes, I already do pray for her.”

So that was the sum of Sarah’s reaction.

However, when I mentioned the situation to her big brother as the two us were driving home from one of his basketball games, I was a little taken aback (and very touched) when he actually get MAD about it!

He had been eating a chicken sandwich and you know how precious food is to teenage boys. However, he laid that sandwich down on his lap and for about five minutes. made a very impassioned speech in defense of his sister. I couldn’t keep from grinning to myself as I drove, knowing that the vehemence of his words reflected a deep love for his sister as well as a keen understanding of just what horrors she has been through in the past four years. If anyone knows that Sarah doesn’t talk about this just to “get attention,” Nathan does! 

Anyway, the whole unfortunate incident turned out to be sort of a good thing–in my eyes, at least–as it revealed yet another layer of Nathan’s love and concern for his little sister. That chicken sandwich was almost cold by the time he got done defending Sarah which is a more accurate indication of a hungry teenage guy’s love for his sister than just about anything else I can imagine.

 Sarah is certainly blessed to have him as a big brother.

Which brings me to one last important subject:

Today Nathan turns twenty-five years old!  I think a quarter-century of life deserves special mention, especially when the person celebrating is the best son anyone could ever ask for.

Love you Nathan, son of my heart!