Day 134: Two Weeks Go By

It's been two weeks since I last blogged. Two weeks!

Today took me back though...took me to a place in April where I was on the phone every day. When I was talking with Hospice, with the Cancer Center, with mom and dad. When I was trying to get answers to questions. Answers to questions I didn't want to have.

Today took me back.

Mom's stomach hasn't filled up again. It's been two weeks. That's good progress and I'm so happy about it!

But the questions are still there. I get the impression that mom and dad have a lot of long talks. Or maybe talks that are mostly silent, but where so much is said. They told me this week that they spoke to Ruth, their Hospice nurse, about the idea of getting some additional testing to find out the status of mom's cancer.

Ruth told mom and dad that she would present this at the hospice meeting and would get back to them. She called them yesterday and said that the Hospice doctor didn't really feel like additional testing was merited right now. I could tell that mom and dad were somewhat disappointed so I told them I could call Hospice today and see what I could find out. They both felt like that would be helpful, so I told them I'd let them know what I found out.

So, I called Hospice and spoke to the nursing supervisor. She told me that it was their feeling that testing wasn't warranted because the kind of cancer mom has is not just going to go away. I told her I understood that. I told her that my brain and mom's brain and dad's brain all understand that, but that, at the same time, there are questions. I told her that we have had several conversations about just leaving things be and enjoying this time. But that mom and dad are living in sort of a limbo that is always hanging over them. And they would just like someone to say that mom's status is the same or better or worse.

I told her that I worry about the conversations we're not having anymore because death no longer seems to be staring us in the face. But, yet, it could be and we just don't know it.

I think she understood and said that she thought it would make sense to call over to the Cancer Center and ask for an appt for mom. I thanked her for all that Hospice is doing and found myself holding back tears for the first time in a long time.

So, my next call was to the Cancer Center. I spoke to Kim, who happened to be mom's nurse when she was getting chemo. She remember mom and listened as I went through my whole dilemma again. She told me that mom should definitely make an appt to come in and see her Oncologist again and discuss updating her prognosis.

I felt good about everything after I got off the phone and called mom and dad with an update. I went through both calls with them and could hear some trepidation in mom's voice. I told her that she certainly didn't have to make an appt if she didn't want to. She said she really did want to know more. I told her that it had been 3 months since she had seen her Oncologist and that it probably makes sense to go in and talk to him again. I mentioned that he had said he didn't see her having more than a year when we saw him last and it's already been 3 months so it seemed feasible to go in and see him again. That's when I saw (heard) something I hadn't really acknowledged in a while. Mom said, "who said less than year?" and I told her that was what the Oncologist said when we saw him last. Mom sighed and didn't say anything else. I tried to back track a bit and say that who knows what may have changed. But there it was. She didn't remember that conversation. Even though we have discussed it a couple of times in the past 3 months since the appt. She didn't remember it.

And so I left the conversation with mom and dad telling them to think about it and make the appt if they wanted to. I don't know what they'll decide. But the whole thing has kind of hit me in a weird way today. I've been living my life, knowing my mom has cancer, but somewhere, believing it might actually be gone. It's not gone. It's never going to be gone. And my time with my mom is limited and finite. I suppose our time with everyone is limited and finite. But right now, it seems moreso.

Have I been not willing to see the changes in mom? Have I been willing to just accept that she can walk on her own and carry on a conversation so she must be better? Or have I been too afraid to acknowledge that she still is sick?

I've had my moments. Every time I see her she seems more fragile. She looks so different to me. But in some ways, seems so much like my mom has always seemed. I think I focus there because it's safer.

I know the memory lapses are big. I guess I just didn't realize HOW big. Or maybe I did, but once again, didn't want to acknowledge it.

I wonder if I've just been living in a fantasy world because it's safer here. It's easier to just go about my life and pretend that cancer cells aren't still running through my mom's body, slowly killing her. And I suppose that's just a normal survival mechanism. But today things kind of hit me hard again.

I don't know what mom and dad will decide to do, but I'll update when I know. And we'll just continue to take things one day at a time.

Although I feel sad today, it also is day 134 of this blog and for that I am incredibly grateful. That's about 100 days (or more) than I thought I was going to have and so much good has happened in those 134 days. I suppose I'm never going to be ready when the days run out, but I just really want this blog to continue for a long, long time.