What a week. My 9/19 client delivered her baby on 8/26. Very sick baby. Probably the most ill baby of any of my clients. It was hard and heartbreaking. But thankfully he seems to be making some slow progress towards getting well. Babies are amazing!
My 8/23 client still hasn't had her baby but thankfully she didn't have it today so I could go up and be with mom as she had her abdomen drained again. And I'm really glad I was there because I think I would have been the only one to notice the dramatic difference in the fluid color. All her previous procedures had fluid that looked sort of like cream soda. Today it was the color of cherry coke. It was dramatically different. Shockingly different to me actually.
And I've spent some time on the internet researching the fluid color from paracentesis and honestly what I'm finding isn't good. And I've stopped researching. I am going to call Hospice on Monday and find out what they say.
But in my head I already know all the answers. I can see mom's mental status declining. Sometimes it's hard to have a conversation with her because she just can't put together a sentence. And her memory is continuing to get worse. Today I mentioned what she was doing 37 years ago (it's Michael's birthday) and she had no idea what I was talking about. Dad had to fill in the blanks. And I'm noticing he does that a lot. He just fills in where mom doesn't remember. He is her memory. And today was somewhat monumental for me because it was the first time dad signed mom's consent form because she just can no longer sign her name. I guess as long as she was signing her own name, I felt like we were still moving along. But having dad do it today seemed like a step in a direction that I didn't want to take. And it almost seemed like dad didn't want to take it either.
So, I know I was supposed to be there. This whole week has been about being where I'm supposed to be. Going back to my previous blog...as I've let things go, they have just fallen into place.
But as much I was supposed to be there today...right now, I'm hurting. I have seen more than I wanted to see these past 162 days. I carry a lot with me that no one else carries. My mom doesn't remember her time in the hospital (thank goodness). I remember every moment. My mom doesn't really see these paracentesis procedures (although she feels it and no one else has experienced it from her side). I see the procedures. I see her wince when they put in the lidocaine with the long needle where they try to get deep enough to numb her as much as possible. I see her jump when the paracentesis catheter is inserted into the final spot. Sometimes I wake up with those thoughts appearing in my head in the middle of the night. I saw the difference in that fluid today. I would have been the only person who would have noticed it. And today I saw the procedure was more difficult. Harder to place. Harder to keep going. And I read people's faces and I could see things in the staff's faces that I didn't want to see.
I noticed today as I was driving up north that I've done this drive enough now to know which lane I should be in, where the potholes are, which lanes end, etc. It's one thing to drive it now and then, but today was one of those moments when I realize I've done it enough to instinctively know which lane to be in and when. My car needs a 60,000 mile check up that there is no way I can afford and I just have to believe that it's going to keep running the way it has because I need it to. It's a fantastic car and has taken very good care of me over the course of the last 4 years.
I'm finding myself waking more at night. For the first time in my life I took some homeopathic sleep remedies the other night because I just need to sleep. I need my brain to rest. I'm slow breathing. I'm meditating when I can. I'm reminding myself to let go. But my brain is on overdrive. Sleep has never been a problem for me, but this morning when Christopher woke me at 2:30pm because Jonathan's snoring woke him up, I could not for the life of me fall back asleep. I got Christopher resettled but I couldn't resettle myself. So, finally after an hour of lying in bed, I just got up. I worked out. I did my morning chores. And got my day started early. But sleep is important too. And mine just isn't coming the way it should these days.
As I mentioned at the beginning, my 9/19 client delivered this week. She was my only September client. Once my 8/23 client delivers (hopefully this weekend) that gives me all of September off. I need that. Although right now, I'm really, really hoping my 8/23 clients call me tonight. I need a beautiful, wonderful birth right now. I need a happy, healthy baby and happy parents. But I also have a very strong sense that I need some time off. I start school on Monday. I am very concerned I have bitten off way more than I can chew. But something has told me this is the time to do it, so I'm doing it. But I'm more than a little scared.
I'm more than a little scared about lots of things right now. And today elevated those feelings. I know I have to let it go. I know that. But right now. Right in this moment, I just can't. I have pictures of my mom's fluid three weeks ago and I took a picture today. I keep staring at them on my computer, looking into them, searching for answers. But they are probably answers I don't really want.
I just tried calling mom and dad and there was no answer. I'm assuming that means they went ahead and went out to dinner with Jim and Nancy. That would be a good thing. Mom and dad went to the casino this week too. That's good. Mom is enjoying things. That makes me happy.
But I'm losing her. Bit by bit. Memory by memory. Each small goodbye.
And today...right now, I just can't let it go. Because letting that go feels like letting my mom go in little steps and I'm just not ready. I know I most likely never will be. But tonight, I'm holding on tight because I just can't let go. I know I'm clinging to something that probably isn't there. But I just physically and mentally can't let this go. I am making marked improvement on the things I can let go in my life. But this just isn't one of those things. I feel like if I keep holding on, I can keep my mom here with just my will. I know that's unrealistic...but tell that to my heart. It won't believe you and it doesn't want to hear it. And so I keep holding on as tightly as I can. Because right now that's all I can do.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Day 159: The things I'm learning
The important stuff first...mom will have her stomach drained again this Friday, the 28th (Michael's 37th birthday). I imagine no where in my mom's head could she have known this is where she would be 37 years after she gave birth to her son. Of course, with all the drama after Michael's birth, I'm sure she wasn't thinking of much else anyway. I suppose it's a good thing we can't see our futures.
The past few days have been a bit overwhelming. I'm trying to get curriculum ordered for the boys' school year and am working with a whole new program which is confusing. I'm starting school in 6 days and my textbooks are staring me in the face reminding me. I've got a client who is currently 2 days overdue. I'm spearheading a new Lego League group for Christopher (why did I decide to take that on???) I've been waiting to find out when mom would be getting her stomach drained and hoping that my client would have her baby soon so I could be sure to be there. Olly's grandma is dying from lung cancer and he may likely disappear here soon to drive to California at a moment's notice. And then this morning I woke up to the sound of Jonathan throwing up.
When I heard him throw up, my brain literally said, "NO WAY!" There is no way I can take anymore. Stop! Now!
I told Olly last night that my head felt like a pinball machine. Things just bouncing back and forth. Stuff to get done. Stuff to figure out. Who would watch the boys overnight if I had to be at a birth while he's gone? What happens if I'm birthing when mom is getting her stomach drained? Too many variables. Too much to do. Too little time. It was as though the pinball just kept bouncing and bouncing around and I couldn't settle my mind to actually handle or take care of anything.
Then this morning and Jonathan throwing up. Immediately I thought, "Now what do I do?". I can't go up and see mom with Jonathan throwing up. I can't risk getting her sick.
And for a moment I crumbled.
And then I pulled it together. And I put it back in God's hands. I gave it all back. My God and I have had an interesting relationship for the past 20 years (if not my entire life). There was a period of time that I didn't believe in a higher power at all. I do now. But this is still a journey for me. Nonetheless...someone has been speaking to me for the past several months. This someone has been guiding my path, has been picking me up when I didn't think I could stand, and has caught my tears.
I'm a cynic. I often wonder if we find our higher power when we are at our lowest because we need that hope. We need to believe that our life has a meaning and getting up every day is worth the effort. We need to believe there is more than our suffering. So, in all honesty, I don't know if that's what I'm doing. But I do believe I'm being protected right now. And probably have been my entire life. I just was never at a place where I could see it before.
I've mentioned this book I'm reading, "Being with Dying". I've been reading it a lot lately and highlighting things I want to remember. One of the first things I highlighted was all the way back on page 5 where it said that St. John of the Cross recognized that "suffering can be fortunate because, without it, there is no possibility for maturation".
I would have to say that my suffering has certainly matured me.
Another paragraph later in the book says, "Suffering usually pushes us onto the spiritual path. Often it takes an accident, a catastrophic diagnosis, a disaster, or great loss for us to break open. Then, when we begin to explore the truth of suffering, we often find within each poison the nectar of wisdom, kindness, and love. But we must first discard the belief that we can make our suffering go away. Instead, we learn to stay with it. Then we become curious about it. This is a fundamental change of attitude: we accept our suffering and determine to help ourselves by investigating its cause. We are forced to lie down in what the poet Yeats called "the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart." This is where most of us begin our journey home - among the rags and bones of our tender and awful brokenness."
And lastly, although there are many more things I'm gaining from this book, it says, "An old joke goes, 'Religion is for people who are afraid of hell; spirituality is for people who have been through hell.'"
So much of all of that resonates with me. My mom's illness has transformed me in many ways. And much of that transformation has been good. I find it fascinating that through the hell I often feel like I'm living in, I am growing and learning and changing.
I am coming to terms with the fact that I will live the rest of my life without my mom on this earth. I don't like it. I hate it actually. There are tears in my eyes as I type these words. But I can't pretend it isn't happening. And in a sense I've been given a gift of time to start to come to terms with it. Don't get me wrong. I have TONS of work left to do and most of that will be done after mom is gone. I certainly still have moments where I need to pull the car over to the side of the road because I can't see through the tears that came out of nowhere, brought on by a song on the radio or a thought that fleetingly has made it's way through my head. And believe me when I say that I am no where near ready for my mom to die. Not even close.
But somewhere, I am growing and letting go.
This morning after my mini crumble, I spoke to my God and said, "I'm giving it back to you. I trust you and I believe that things will work out as they should." Now that doesn't mean I haven't had my up and down moments today. But...as of right now, my childcare gal has told me that she is more than happy to come in the middle of the night (granted, I'd be paying her more, but still, she's there if I need her). And Kiersten has informed me she is available on Friday to back me up with mom if I'm birthing. AND....that she can be my "official" back up even while she's working as she just needs a couple hours notice and can get a sub in place and head out.
I let it go and it all fell into place.
Let me assure you, that doesn't come easily or naturally for me. But I'm learning. Because I have to now. I know I can't control things but it's in my nature to do so. One of my friends recently called me an "overachiever". I've never considered myself to be an overachiever. I kind of feel like I work really hard just to stay in the same place. But I suppose I can see her point.
Now, I will still be very disappointed, if, for some reason, I can't be with mom on Friday. I made her a promise I would always be with her when she was in the hospital. At the same time, I work an unpredictable job and there is the potential that, through no fault of my own, I may not be able to keep that promise. Just as I promise all my clients that I will do my very best to be at their birth, life sometimes happens. That's why I have back up Doulas. So, I got myself a back up daughter...sort of...since she really is her daughter (in-law) anyway! :-)
For years people have told me that things always work out. And for years I thought everyone else was crazy.
I'm learning. And starting to believe. There's still a lot of work to be done. But I'm taking baby steps and they're leading me down the right path.
I know I said no more quotes from the book, but I need to include one more. It is a paragraph that really emphasizes my whole point of this blog post.
"Some years ago, walking across the Himalayas, I realized I would never make it over those mountains unless I let go of everything extra. That meant I had to lighten up my mind as well as my overloaded day pack. It all came down to one simple sentence. Nothing extra! Just as these two legs carried me across mountains, those same words carry me through complicated days. They always remind me to let go. They also remind me of the weightlessness and and ease of a whole and dedicated heart."
Or in the words of a very wise woman, by whom I was raised,
"What will be, will be."
I fought those words for most of my life. But as it tends to come down to in life...
Mom is always right.
The past few days have been a bit overwhelming. I'm trying to get curriculum ordered for the boys' school year and am working with a whole new program which is confusing. I'm starting school in 6 days and my textbooks are staring me in the face reminding me. I've got a client who is currently 2 days overdue. I'm spearheading a new Lego League group for Christopher (why did I decide to take that on???) I've been waiting to find out when mom would be getting her stomach drained and hoping that my client would have her baby soon so I could be sure to be there. Olly's grandma is dying from lung cancer and he may likely disappear here soon to drive to California at a moment's notice. And then this morning I woke up to the sound of Jonathan throwing up.
When I heard him throw up, my brain literally said, "NO WAY!" There is no way I can take anymore. Stop! Now!
I told Olly last night that my head felt like a pinball machine. Things just bouncing back and forth. Stuff to get done. Stuff to figure out. Who would watch the boys overnight if I had to be at a birth while he's gone? What happens if I'm birthing when mom is getting her stomach drained? Too many variables. Too much to do. Too little time. It was as though the pinball just kept bouncing and bouncing around and I couldn't settle my mind to actually handle or take care of anything.
Then this morning and Jonathan throwing up. Immediately I thought, "Now what do I do?". I can't go up and see mom with Jonathan throwing up. I can't risk getting her sick.
And for a moment I crumbled.
And then I pulled it together. And I put it back in God's hands. I gave it all back. My God and I have had an interesting relationship for the past 20 years (if not my entire life). There was a period of time that I didn't believe in a higher power at all. I do now. But this is still a journey for me. Nonetheless...someone has been speaking to me for the past several months. This someone has been guiding my path, has been picking me up when I didn't think I could stand, and has caught my tears.
I'm a cynic. I often wonder if we find our higher power when we are at our lowest because we need that hope. We need to believe that our life has a meaning and getting up every day is worth the effort. We need to believe there is more than our suffering. So, in all honesty, I don't know if that's what I'm doing. But I do believe I'm being protected right now. And probably have been my entire life. I just was never at a place where I could see it before.
I've mentioned this book I'm reading, "Being with Dying". I've been reading it a lot lately and highlighting things I want to remember. One of the first things I highlighted was all the way back on page 5 where it said that St. John of the Cross recognized that "suffering can be fortunate because, without it, there is no possibility for maturation".
I would have to say that my suffering has certainly matured me.
Another paragraph later in the book says, "Suffering usually pushes us onto the spiritual path. Often it takes an accident, a catastrophic diagnosis, a disaster, or great loss for us to break open. Then, when we begin to explore the truth of suffering, we often find within each poison the nectar of wisdom, kindness, and love. But we must first discard the belief that we can make our suffering go away. Instead, we learn to stay with it. Then we become curious about it. This is a fundamental change of attitude: we accept our suffering and determine to help ourselves by investigating its cause. We are forced to lie down in what the poet Yeats called "the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart." This is where most of us begin our journey home - among the rags and bones of our tender and awful brokenness."
And lastly, although there are many more things I'm gaining from this book, it says, "An old joke goes, 'Religion is for people who are afraid of hell; spirituality is for people who have been through hell.'"
So much of all of that resonates with me. My mom's illness has transformed me in many ways. And much of that transformation has been good. I find it fascinating that through the hell I often feel like I'm living in, I am growing and learning and changing.
I am coming to terms with the fact that I will live the rest of my life without my mom on this earth. I don't like it. I hate it actually. There are tears in my eyes as I type these words. But I can't pretend it isn't happening. And in a sense I've been given a gift of time to start to come to terms with it. Don't get me wrong. I have TONS of work left to do and most of that will be done after mom is gone. I certainly still have moments where I need to pull the car over to the side of the road because I can't see through the tears that came out of nowhere, brought on by a song on the radio or a thought that fleetingly has made it's way through my head. And believe me when I say that I am no where near ready for my mom to die. Not even close.
But somewhere, I am growing and letting go.
This morning after my mini crumble, I spoke to my God and said, "I'm giving it back to you. I trust you and I believe that things will work out as they should." Now that doesn't mean I haven't had my up and down moments today. But...as of right now, my childcare gal has told me that she is more than happy to come in the middle of the night (granted, I'd be paying her more, but still, she's there if I need her). And Kiersten has informed me she is available on Friday to back me up with mom if I'm birthing. AND....that she can be my "official" back up even while she's working as she just needs a couple hours notice and can get a sub in place and head out.
I let it go and it all fell into place.
Let me assure you, that doesn't come easily or naturally for me. But I'm learning. Because I have to now. I know I can't control things but it's in my nature to do so. One of my friends recently called me an "overachiever". I've never considered myself to be an overachiever. I kind of feel like I work really hard just to stay in the same place. But I suppose I can see her point.
Now, I will still be very disappointed, if, for some reason, I can't be with mom on Friday. I made her a promise I would always be with her when she was in the hospital. At the same time, I work an unpredictable job and there is the potential that, through no fault of my own, I may not be able to keep that promise. Just as I promise all my clients that I will do my very best to be at their birth, life sometimes happens. That's why I have back up Doulas. So, I got myself a back up daughter...sort of...since she really is her daughter (in-law) anyway! :-)
For years people have told me that things always work out. And for years I thought everyone else was crazy.
I'm learning. And starting to believe. There's still a lot of work to be done. But I'm taking baby steps and they're leading me down the right path.
I know I said no more quotes from the book, but I need to include one more. It is a paragraph that really emphasizes my whole point of this blog post.
"Some years ago, walking across the Himalayas, I realized I would never make it over those mountains unless I let go of everything extra. That meant I had to lighten up my mind as well as my overloaded day pack. It all came down to one simple sentence. Nothing extra! Just as these two legs carried me across mountains, those same words carry me through complicated days. They always remind me to let go. They also remind me of the weightlessness and and ease of a whole and dedicated heart."
Or in the words of a very wise woman, by whom I was raised,
"What will be, will be."
I fought those words for most of my life. But as it tends to come down to in life...
Mom is always right.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Day 155: Update
Just a quick update today to say that I talked to mom this morning and she sounded fine. I don't know if she's faking it or not, but she did say that she and dad were still going to go out to dinner with Jim and Nancy tonight so that is a positive thing. I think that I might have just caught her in a bad place yesterday. I still expect that she'll be getting her stomach drained sometime next week, but it sounds like she can make it through the weekend anyway.
I just wanted to post a better blog post today than the one from yesterday. My head is still in a weird place, but I think that's normal right now. I'm just trying to let things BE and take it one breath at a time.
I just wanted to post a better blog post today than the one from yesterday. My head is still in a weird place, but I think that's normal right now. I'm just trying to let things BE and take it one breath at a time.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Day 154: Self-Examination
I had a very long birth this week. I left at 2:30am on Tuesday morning and got home around 7:45am on Wednesday morning. I haven't had one like that in quite a while so I guess I was due (still doesn't beat my record birth...which I'm hoping will never happen!). Anyway, I managed to make time both Tuesday morning and Tuesday evening to get in a quick call to mom and dad.
Tuesday night mom mentioned that she could tell her stomach was starting to fill up again. I didn't think a lot about it at the time because I was preoccupied with the birth, but Tuesday was only 12 days. 12 days after 7.2 liters last time!
That thought hit me this morning when I called mom and could instantly hear "it" in my mom's voice. It was her stomach. I knew it before she said it.
And she tried to downplay it. And got defensive and upset with me when I suggested she call for an appt today to get it drained tomorrow. Mainly because the person that works Fridays is our favorite and I just thought it would work better to get it done before the weekend. But mom said she never should have told me because she knew I "would get like this". That one stung, I have to admit. "Get like this??" Like what? Like the person that has been making all the phone calls and appointments for the last 4 months? Like the person who just doesn't want to ever see my mom in the condition she was in the hospital 4 months ago? Like the person that just takes care of things so mom and dad don't have to? Get like that???? Because that's the mode I go into. And maybe this morning I overreacted. But when she said it was filling up and said that she told Aunt Linda and Uncle Bill that today was not a good day (they called and talked to mom and dad just before I did), I knew this was more than just a small thing.
I understand she wants to wait as long as possible because the more she gets it drained, the more it will fill. I do understand that and I admire her wanting to wait. But we're staring at the weekend and the only option for draining on the weekends is the ER. And the "get like this" comment took me back to many past conversations long before her cancer diagnosis when I just had to get off the phone with her. And today it just stung and I had to regroup and bring myself back to today.
She was just in a different place this morning and my instinct to try to fix things kicked in. Once I backed off, she calmed down and things were fine. I think she knew she jumped on me. But can I really blame her? Can I blame her for being angry and frustrated and scared and just wanting to make some of her own choices? Can I blame her for wanting some control over her own body that has so completely turned against her? No...I don't think I can blame her for any of that.
I was sitting in my car in a parking lot with the boys when I got off the phone with mom. We were heading to catch the streetcar into town for the farmer's market. And right there, in that parking lot, a million different feelings spun through my head in the matter of about 10 seconds. Had I been alone, I think I would have let the tears come. But the boys were there, both asking me what was wrong, and I had to, once again, pull it together and do what needed to be done.
We had a nice time at the market, but I've been in a different place since we got home. I keep hearing my mom's voice in my head. I keep hearing her words and the way she said them. And I keep reminding myself of what she's going through. And it's just such amazing conflict in my head. Conflict that I thought I had honestly worked through. But maybe it's too much to work through a lifetime of mother/daughter issues in the period of 4 months.
I know both mom and dad appreciate all I have done the past several months. One little comment from my mom does not negate that. I know that. But, the brain is so fascinating. And it's amazing where that comment took me today. And it's made me wonder what comes after she's gone? I thought I was becoming more prepared for that day. But what I learned today is that there's still a lot of "stuff" there. And that scares me a little.
But outside of all that junk running through my head that's really not important today is the reality that mom's going to need her stomach drained soon. And we all know what that means. I know mom knows it. And I know that's where her head is today.
So, although I can still hear her comment in my head right now. I also hear her saying, "I love you so much" before she hung up. And I know that is true.
The human mind is complex. Relationships are just as complex. Mothers and Daughters definitely have some crazy complexity. Today I have been pondering that all. Maybe it's not a bad thing to do now and then. It helps me refocus and better able to handle the next step.
My mom is a human being. A human being who is dying. And someone who keeps a lot of her own feelings to herself. I don't do that nearly as well (or at all for that matter).
I am finding my mom. In small ways I'm learning to understand who she is and I need to respect all the ups and downs in her just as I have always wanted her to respect my ups and downs (of which there are many!).
Blogging this today was cathartic. I should have done it early. I almost didn't do it at all because I didn't want to come off as selfish and petty today. But the reality of all of this is that all of us have our own "stuff" and some of that stuff rises to the top at different times. It just reminds me that I'm human I guess.
And that I'm probably still over-tired today and don't handle anything well when I'm still feeling sleep-deprived.
The current task at hand is figuring out when we'll be getting mom's stomach drained again. And I'm just hoping and praying that the timing continues to work out as well as it has in the past because I still have another client due that I'm hoping won't conflict with mom's appointment.
I'm having to acknowledge where I am in my life right now and I'm having to take a step back occasionally and regroup. I'm a 40 year old mother of 2 boys. They are starting a new school program this year that is going to be much more intense than in the past. I am starting school at the same time. I work a job that has no set hours and I never know when I'm going to need to drop my life and go. I also work a job that is all about taking care of others, which I know is what I'm supposed to do with my life, but I have to remind myself that I need to take care of myself too. Because on top of all of that, I am a woman who is losing her mother. And sometimes all of these things overwhelm me. I'm still working on finding a balance.
I have my up and down days. Just like mom. And we're both entitled to them. I just have to dust off my pants and get back up and moving forward again. I think that's all any of us can do.
Tuesday night mom mentioned that she could tell her stomach was starting to fill up again. I didn't think a lot about it at the time because I was preoccupied with the birth, but Tuesday was only 12 days. 12 days after 7.2 liters last time!
That thought hit me this morning when I called mom and could instantly hear "it" in my mom's voice. It was her stomach. I knew it before she said it.
And she tried to downplay it. And got defensive and upset with me when I suggested she call for an appt today to get it drained tomorrow. Mainly because the person that works Fridays is our favorite and I just thought it would work better to get it done before the weekend. But mom said she never should have told me because she knew I "would get like this". That one stung, I have to admit. "Get like this??" Like what? Like the person that has been making all the phone calls and appointments for the last 4 months? Like the person who just doesn't want to ever see my mom in the condition she was in the hospital 4 months ago? Like the person that just takes care of things so mom and dad don't have to? Get like that???? Because that's the mode I go into. And maybe this morning I overreacted. But when she said it was filling up and said that she told Aunt Linda and Uncle Bill that today was not a good day (they called and talked to mom and dad just before I did), I knew this was more than just a small thing.
I understand she wants to wait as long as possible because the more she gets it drained, the more it will fill. I do understand that and I admire her wanting to wait. But we're staring at the weekend and the only option for draining on the weekends is the ER. And the "get like this" comment took me back to many past conversations long before her cancer diagnosis when I just had to get off the phone with her. And today it just stung and I had to regroup and bring myself back to today.
She was just in a different place this morning and my instinct to try to fix things kicked in. Once I backed off, she calmed down and things were fine. I think she knew she jumped on me. But can I really blame her? Can I blame her for being angry and frustrated and scared and just wanting to make some of her own choices? Can I blame her for wanting some control over her own body that has so completely turned against her? No...I don't think I can blame her for any of that.
I was sitting in my car in a parking lot with the boys when I got off the phone with mom. We were heading to catch the streetcar into town for the farmer's market. And right there, in that parking lot, a million different feelings spun through my head in the matter of about 10 seconds. Had I been alone, I think I would have let the tears come. But the boys were there, both asking me what was wrong, and I had to, once again, pull it together and do what needed to be done.
We had a nice time at the market, but I've been in a different place since we got home. I keep hearing my mom's voice in my head. I keep hearing her words and the way she said them. And I keep reminding myself of what she's going through. And it's just such amazing conflict in my head. Conflict that I thought I had honestly worked through. But maybe it's too much to work through a lifetime of mother/daughter issues in the period of 4 months.
I know both mom and dad appreciate all I have done the past several months. One little comment from my mom does not negate that. I know that. But, the brain is so fascinating. And it's amazing where that comment took me today. And it's made me wonder what comes after she's gone? I thought I was becoming more prepared for that day. But what I learned today is that there's still a lot of "stuff" there. And that scares me a little.
But outside of all that junk running through my head that's really not important today is the reality that mom's going to need her stomach drained soon. And we all know what that means. I know mom knows it. And I know that's where her head is today.
So, although I can still hear her comment in my head right now. I also hear her saying, "I love you so much" before she hung up. And I know that is true.
The human mind is complex. Relationships are just as complex. Mothers and Daughters definitely have some crazy complexity. Today I have been pondering that all. Maybe it's not a bad thing to do now and then. It helps me refocus and better able to handle the next step.
My mom is a human being. A human being who is dying. And someone who keeps a lot of her own feelings to herself. I don't do that nearly as well (or at all for that matter).
I am finding my mom. In small ways I'm learning to understand who she is and I need to respect all the ups and downs in her just as I have always wanted her to respect my ups and downs (of which there are many!).
Blogging this today was cathartic. I should have done it early. I almost didn't do it at all because I didn't want to come off as selfish and petty today. But the reality of all of this is that all of us have our own "stuff" and some of that stuff rises to the top at different times. It just reminds me that I'm human I guess.
And that I'm probably still over-tired today and don't handle anything well when I'm still feeling sleep-deprived.
The current task at hand is figuring out when we'll be getting mom's stomach drained again. And I'm just hoping and praying that the timing continues to work out as well as it has in the past because I still have another client due that I'm hoping won't conflict with mom's appointment.
I'm having to acknowledge where I am in my life right now and I'm having to take a step back occasionally and regroup. I'm a 40 year old mother of 2 boys. They are starting a new school program this year that is going to be much more intense than in the past. I am starting school at the same time. I work a job that has no set hours and I never know when I'm going to need to drop my life and go. I also work a job that is all about taking care of others, which I know is what I'm supposed to do with my life, but I have to remind myself that I need to take care of myself too. Because on top of all of that, I am a woman who is losing her mother. And sometimes all of these things overwhelm me. I'm still working on finding a balance.
I have my up and down days. Just like mom. And we're both entitled to them. I just have to dust off my pants and get back up and moving forward again. I think that's all any of us can do.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Day 150: Memories
Day 150! Wow. This one kind of snuck up on me. I feel like it was just day 100. I also remember just really hoping to have the chance to type in Day 100. And now, here we are at day 150.
And it was a good day. Olly and I drove up to mom and dad's. I brought lunch. Mom's Oven Porcupines (meatballs with rice) and a Strawberry Spinach salad. And, of course, a pumpkin pie. Mom enjoyed it all so much. She kept saying what a treat it all was for her. I was glad I could give her a little enjoyment like that.
Olly worked on the computer for dad trying to clean some stuff up. I went on a hunt for all the 8mm films that mom and dad have taken over the years. We all finally found them. They date back to 1964. I'm going to take them to Costco and get them all put on DVD. There are 30 total. I'm really hoping they are in good enough shape to transfer them over and we haven't lost any yet.
While looking for the movie reels, we went through a bunch of old photo albums. I've seen all those pictures tons of times, but it's still fun to go through them all and was fun to show them all to Olly for the first time. I need to bring them home with me and start organizing them. I should have done it today, but didn't really think about it until we left so I'll pick them up the next time I'm up there.
So, it was a good day. Memories shared. Lots of smiles and laughter. These are the days I hold with me throughout this journey. These are the days when, bittersweet as it is, I do truly find my mom in small goodbyes.
And it was a good day. Olly and I drove up to mom and dad's. I brought lunch. Mom's Oven Porcupines (meatballs with rice) and a Strawberry Spinach salad. And, of course, a pumpkin pie. Mom enjoyed it all so much. She kept saying what a treat it all was for her. I was glad I could give her a little enjoyment like that.
Olly worked on the computer for dad trying to clean some stuff up. I went on a hunt for all the 8mm films that mom and dad have taken over the years. We all finally found them. They date back to 1964. I'm going to take them to Costco and get them all put on DVD. There are 30 total. I'm really hoping they are in good enough shape to transfer them over and we haven't lost any yet.
While looking for the movie reels, we went through a bunch of old photo albums. I've seen all those pictures tons of times, but it's still fun to go through them all and was fun to show them all to Olly for the first time. I need to bring them home with me and start organizing them. I should have done it today, but didn't really think about it until we left so I'll pick them up the next time I'm up there.
So, it was a good day. Memories shared. Lots of smiles and laughter. These are the days I hold with me throughout this journey. These are the days when, bittersweet as it is, I do truly find my mom in small goodbyes.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Day 144: Limited Options
I'm home from the cancer center. Not much that we didn't expect.
I will say this, Mom's Oncologist said he was definitely surprised to see mom looking so good. He really didn't seem like he expected to see her at all by now. I guess that's a good thing. He flat out said that she "puzzles" him.
But there is still reality. The cancer hasn't gone away. We know this because mom's stomach is still filling up. I did ask him if my theory could be possible...that when mom was in the hospital, her body just fought to keep her alive and it took energy away from the cancer cells. He said absolutely.
He did say we could do another abdominal scan, but that Hospice would not allow it. Because to do the scan is to say mom might be willing to fight the cancer with chemo again. And if she chooses chemo, she has to go off Hospice. He said there is no reason to test anything if mom isn't going to chose to fight it.
He told mom that this is really a personal decision sort of thing. She can choose to try chemo again. He said he'd use a different drug. (He still doesn't know why mom reacted the way she did last time. He implied that maybe she was sick with the flu or something on top of the chemo. But I don't think that was the case at all. And then mom said that he also told her that her hair wasn't going to fall out and it did and still hasn't returned. Touche Mr. Oncologist. ;-)). Or mom can choose to just live the life she is living. He explained that everyone is different. Mom knows this just from her friend Jim. He is determined to fight, no matter how sick it makes him. The Oncologist said he has people who he feels should probably quit chemo but they don't want to and so he respects that and let's people choose their own paths. He told mom he respects any decision she makes and that he's simply giving her options.
Mom doesn't want to live like her friend Jim. She admires him greatly, but doesn't want to live that way. She wants to live the way she is now. She truly believes the chemo will kill her. And I can't really argue with her. I sat at her bedside for 5 days. I saw what it did to her. I don't want her to have to go through that again. Don't get me wrong. If my mom looked at me and said, "Kelli, I'm going to fight this, no matter what the side affects are." I would sit right by her side as she went through it. But as long as she doesn't want to go through it, I'm going to support that decision too.
The harsh facts are that chemo or not, mom is going to die. The chemo will not make her cancer go away. It might prolong her life, but that life might be filled with chemo side affects.
It's a decision no one wants to make. I hate it. The options are completely limited and there really isn't a good option. I knew there wouldn't be, but don't think for one minute that there wasn't a little tiny part of me that wanted to hear the Oncologist say, "Well, hey, maybe you beat it and the cancer is gone." My brain knows how unrealistic that it is. But my heart and brain don't think alike.
I am worried about both mom and dad tonight. Mom seemed okay when we left, but dad just seemed so sad throughout the whole thing. Sometimes I feel like he is the forgotten part of this. This is his life too. This is his future too. He's in limbo right now. Tomorrow things could change and he would have a hospital bed back in his home and a wife that is non-responsive. I know that he's trying to live in the moment, but I also know there are things floating around the back of his head. And he doesn't want to bring attention to himself. Partly because he is just like that, but partly because he feels the attention should be on mom.
I did ask the Oncologist how we could expect things to play out as the cancer progresses. He said that mom's stomach will continue to need to be drained more often. He said that every time it is done, her kidneys have to work a lot harder and there is a risk of dehydration. He suggests we don't drain anymore than 5 liters every time to reduce the risk of kidney failure. I will remember that! But it sounds like the kidneys and liver are what he expects to go first.
But when that will happen is anyone's guess. And honestly, most the guesses have been wrong so far. So, I guess this is a long blog to say "Same old, same old". We just continue as is. Today was simply a reality check I suppose.
We did get an answer to one thing...why mom's high blood pressure and diabetes have just seemed to have disappeared. The Oncologist said that the first thing people are told to do when diagnosed with high blood pressure or diabetes is to lose weight. Well, mom has lost a LOT of weight. She was 108 pounds today! I guess that all makes sense.
The Oncologist also mentioned that mom might want to limit her sugar as cancer cells seem to feed off of sugar. Mom said if she limits her sugar she'll probably lose even more weight. She said that the last time he told her she could eat whatever she wanted and he said that she is still welcome to do just that...but that this was just another thought. And one I certainly have heard of as well. But again...it's a double-edged sword...limit sugar and lose more weight but potentially slow the cancer cells or eat the sugar and keep up a live-able body weight.
I do feel frustrated and wish that I could get mom to see my ND as I know she would look at this a little differently and possible keep mom a little healthier as she goes through this which might prolong her life. But I just said that I have to respect her decision not to do chemo so I have to do the same with her choices on how she wants to proceed from here all around.
I really hate the helpless feeling. I think that's really getting to me. But there's nothing I can do. Nothing. But love her and support her. And that I'm doing.
And so now we just wait to see how long before her stomach fills up again. Their Hospice nurse visits tomorrow and I think I may call her after she sees mom just to touch base with her as I haven't done that in a while. I'm curious about her take on things right now.
I was dreading today. But it's strange how I am almost accustomed to these appointments now. I fall apart at random times. Times I don't expect. But it's rarely at these appointments anymore.
I feel sad right now. I feel helpless. A little angry. But I just got off the phone with my mom for my nightly phone call and she sounds good. She says she is glad she went. She's confident in her decision and intends to live her life. I can't argue with that.
I do think that those of us who are knowing we are going to be left behind are feeling lost and desperate for all the time we can get. I'm thinking this weekend Olly and I are going to head up to mom and dad's and Olly is going to clean out dad's computer for him. I mentioned tonight that it looks like October here today. I said I feel like making a pumpkin pie. Mom said, "Now, that's what I need. Pumpkin Pie!" So I will make one and take it up this weekend.
Mom craved pumpkin ice cream when she was pregnant with me. I got my love of pumpkin anything from her. It's the very least I can do to bring her up a pumpkin pie and let her enjoy the entire thing!
Although I hate this cancer, I know this time we have been given is still a gift. I feel closer to my parents than I have in years. And I am grateful for that. I wish I just could have figured that all out w/o the cancer part.
Tonight, I will go to bed with the beautiful sound of NW raindrops on my roof. I love that sound. It is comforting. And comforting is just what I need tonight.
Thank you all for your continued thoughts and prayers. I swear I feel them all! And they are incredibly appreciated.
I will say this, Mom's Oncologist said he was definitely surprised to see mom looking so good. He really didn't seem like he expected to see her at all by now. I guess that's a good thing. He flat out said that she "puzzles" him.
But there is still reality. The cancer hasn't gone away. We know this because mom's stomach is still filling up. I did ask him if my theory could be possible...that when mom was in the hospital, her body just fought to keep her alive and it took energy away from the cancer cells. He said absolutely.
He did say we could do another abdominal scan, but that Hospice would not allow it. Because to do the scan is to say mom might be willing to fight the cancer with chemo again. And if she chooses chemo, she has to go off Hospice. He said there is no reason to test anything if mom isn't going to chose to fight it.
He told mom that this is really a personal decision sort of thing. She can choose to try chemo again. He said he'd use a different drug. (He still doesn't know why mom reacted the way she did last time. He implied that maybe she was sick with the flu or something on top of the chemo. But I don't think that was the case at all. And then mom said that he also told her that her hair wasn't going to fall out and it did and still hasn't returned. Touche Mr. Oncologist. ;-)). Or mom can choose to just live the life she is living. He explained that everyone is different. Mom knows this just from her friend Jim. He is determined to fight, no matter how sick it makes him. The Oncologist said he has people who he feels should probably quit chemo but they don't want to and so he respects that and let's people choose their own paths. He told mom he respects any decision she makes and that he's simply giving her options.
Mom doesn't want to live like her friend Jim. She admires him greatly, but doesn't want to live that way. She wants to live the way she is now. She truly believes the chemo will kill her. And I can't really argue with her. I sat at her bedside for 5 days. I saw what it did to her. I don't want her to have to go through that again. Don't get me wrong. If my mom looked at me and said, "Kelli, I'm going to fight this, no matter what the side affects are." I would sit right by her side as she went through it. But as long as she doesn't want to go through it, I'm going to support that decision too.
The harsh facts are that chemo or not, mom is going to die. The chemo will not make her cancer go away. It might prolong her life, but that life might be filled with chemo side affects.
It's a decision no one wants to make. I hate it. The options are completely limited and there really isn't a good option. I knew there wouldn't be, but don't think for one minute that there wasn't a little tiny part of me that wanted to hear the Oncologist say, "Well, hey, maybe you beat it and the cancer is gone." My brain knows how unrealistic that it is. But my heart and brain don't think alike.
I am worried about both mom and dad tonight. Mom seemed okay when we left, but dad just seemed so sad throughout the whole thing. Sometimes I feel like he is the forgotten part of this. This is his life too. This is his future too. He's in limbo right now. Tomorrow things could change and he would have a hospital bed back in his home and a wife that is non-responsive. I know that he's trying to live in the moment, but I also know there are things floating around the back of his head. And he doesn't want to bring attention to himself. Partly because he is just like that, but partly because he feels the attention should be on mom.
I did ask the Oncologist how we could expect things to play out as the cancer progresses. He said that mom's stomach will continue to need to be drained more often. He said that every time it is done, her kidneys have to work a lot harder and there is a risk of dehydration. He suggests we don't drain anymore than 5 liters every time to reduce the risk of kidney failure. I will remember that! But it sounds like the kidneys and liver are what he expects to go first.
But when that will happen is anyone's guess. And honestly, most the guesses have been wrong so far. So, I guess this is a long blog to say "Same old, same old". We just continue as is. Today was simply a reality check I suppose.
We did get an answer to one thing...why mom's high blood pressure and diabetes have just seemed to have disappeared. The Oncologist said that the first thing people are told to do when diagnosed with high blood pressure or diabetes is to lose weight. Well, mom has lost a LOT of weight. She was 108 pounds today! I guess that all makes sense.
The Oncologist also mentioned that mom might want to limit her sugar as cancer cells seem to feed off of sugar. Mom said if she limits her sugar she'll probably lose even more weight. She said that the last time he told her she could eat whatever she wanted and he said that she is still welcome to do just that...but that this was just another thought. And one I certainly have heard of as well. But again...it's a double-edged sword...limit sugar and lose more weight but potentially slow the cancer cells or eat the sugar and keep up a live-able body weight.
I do feel frustrated and wish that I could get mom to see my ND as I know she would look at this a little differently and possible keep mom a little healthier as she goes through this which might prolong her life. But I just said that I have to respect her decision not to do chemo so I have to do the same with her choices on how she wants to proceed from here all around.
I really hate the helpless feeling. I think that's really getting to me. But there's nothing I can do. Nothing. But love her and support her. And that I'm doing.
And so now we just wait to see how long before her stomach fills up again. Their Hospice nurse visits tomorrow and I think I may call her after she sees mom just to touch base with her as I haven't done that in a while. I'm curious about her take on things right now.
I was dreading today. But it's strange how I am almost accustomed to these appointments now. I fall apart at random times. Times I don't expect. But it's rarely at these appointments anymore.
I feel sad right now. I feel helpless. A little angry. But I just got off the phone with my mom for my nightly phone call and she sounds good. She says she is glad she went. She's confident in her decision and intends to live her life. I can't argue with that.
I do think that those of us who are knowing we are going to be left behind are feeling lost and desperate for all the time we can get. I'm thinking this weekend Olly and I are going to head up to mom and dad's and Olly is going to clean out dad's computer for him. I mentioned tonight that it looks like October here today. I said I feel like making a pumpkin pie. Mom said, "Now, that's what I need. Pumpkin Pie!" So I will make one and take it up this weekend.
Mom craved pumpkin ice cream when she was pregnant with me. I got my love of pumpkin anything from her. It's the very least I can do to bring her up a pumpkin pie and let her enjoy the entire thing!
Although I hate this cancer, I know this time we have been given is still a gift. I feel closer to my parents than I have in years. And I am grateful for that. I wish I just could have figured that all out w/o the cancer part.
Tonight, I will go to bed with the beautiful sound of NW raindrops on my roof. I love that sound. It is comforting. And comforting is just what I need tonight.
Thank you all for your continued thoughts and prayers. I swear I feel them all! And they are incredibly appreciated.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Day 140: 7.2 Liters
7.2 liters! Can you imagine someone taking 7.2 liters out of you? That's how much was drained out of mom's abdomen today. That's the most in one appointment so far.
Mom was really unsteady and fairly uncomfortable after it was all over. I was concerned but I think it was just organs jockying for position. Her back was really bothering her and I guess that makes sense after having had that pressure out front. Every time I go, she starts looking pregnant and today, there was just nothing left of her. Even pregnant women's bodies take some time to readjust to not having that weight. But mom loses it all at once each time. And 7.2 liters is a LOT of fluid.
I spent most of yesterday on the phone with the Cancer Center and Hospice (sometimes in tears) trying to get someone to place orders to test the fluid. Finally last night a very nice Hospice supervisor offered to call mom's primary care doctor and see if she would be willing to place the order. This morning at exactly 9am I got a call from a Hospice nurse letting me know they hadn't heard anything yet and suggested I call mom's primary care doctor. I did just that and about a 1/2 hour later, her DOCTOR actually called me back. Not a staff member, not a nurse, but her doctor. This is a doctor that really doesn't know mom all that well. She just took over her care shortly before mom's diagnosis. I was shocked to actually have her on the phone. She was very nice and explained to me that the reason no one wants to test the fluid is that it is not an accurate assessment of the status of the cancer. Depending on what part was tested, there could be more or less cancer cells and no one wants to give mom a false prognosis. That was the best explanation I had been given and really appreciated her call and her time. She suggested that we talk to mom's Oncologist about what test would be appropriate for mom to get the answers we needed, which we will do on Monday at her appt at the Cancer Center.
One thing that was continuously repeated in all my phone calls was the fact that mom's cancer is bad. No one, medically speaking, thinks it has gotten better. That still feels like a punch in the gut because I think all of us who love her want to believe it has. But as far as the doctors are concerned, the reality of it all is not pretty.
So, 7.2 liters drained. Mom had to be wheeled out again. She couldn't walk because her equilibrium was so off. But I called her tonight and she was doing well.
So, now we will have the appt at the Cancer Center on Monday...and then we just wait. We wait to see how long it takes to fill back up. If we're back in under 3 weeks again after 7.2 liters, the cancer is definitely back full force. But maybe there will be more time.
Time. It's so relative to me these days. And yet, so incredibly important. And it seems like it's ticking loudly in my ear. Today was hard for me as I had errands to run before we headed to Everett and then things took a little longer than anticipated and then it took me nearly a full two hours to get home in traffic and I had to rush to the birth center to teach a class. I was so stressed over time and then managed to dump all my papers all over the parking lot as I got out of my car. I was surprised I didn't just drop to the sidewalk in tears. But I held it together and I taught my class and am grateful for that outlet quite honestly. Even when it seems too hard to put together a sentence, I can pull it together and teach a childbirth class.
But much of today I seem to replay in slow motion. The parts that include mom anyway. The rest seems in super speed. It's as though my brain is holding on to every little moment with mom right now. It's an odd sort of sensation.
On a side note, a friend of mine, Julie, told me yesterday she saw a shirt at a Forza Coffee Shop here in town that said "Cancer Sucks". I knew I had to have it. I stopped at my local Forza and they didn't have any more. So Julie called around for me and found one in Puyallup that had them. I made a special trip out there this morning for one. It's a brown shirt and in pink lettering it says, in Italian, "il Cancro Succhia" and below that in smaller white letters it says "...cancer sucks". I love it and put it right on to wear to the hospital today.
On the way up, I stopped at a pizza place to get the boys lunch in Everett. A woman probably about mom's age stopped me to read my shirt and her response was, "Boy, does it ever! I had it!" She then asked me if I had cancer. I told her it was my mom. She asked me what kind...that's the question I always get next and the one that is so hard to answer. I told her we don't know...it's of an undiagnosed origin. And this woman was genuinely touched and felt genuinely sad. She asked me for mom's first name and told me she would pray for her. It still makes me cry as I think about it. I was holding back tears as we left the pizza place. As we were walking through the parking lot, she was leaving at the same time and approached me again and said, "How is your dad taking it?" She didn't know anything about my parents. She didn't know if I even had a dad still living or anything...but yet, it was if she really did just KNOW. I told her it has been hard and told her a little about mom and dad's relationship and how long they have known one another. This woman was drawn to me out of understanding. And two strangers met and bonded quickly over this disease. It was beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. But it touched my heart in ways that I just can't explain. I don't think I'll ever forget her. And I never even asked her for her name. :-(
It's been a long day and I'm ready to go lie down. Tomorrow is a day off (if my clients allow it...;-)). I'm going to do my best to rest. But I'm never very good at that.
Only time will tell what happens from here. One day at a a time. Slow motion or in fast forward. One day...one moment...at a time.
Mom was really unsteady and fairly uncomfortable after it was all over. I was concerned but I think it was just organs jockying for position. Her back was really bothering her and I guess that makes sense after having had that pressure out front. Every time I go, she starts looking pregnant and today, there was just nothing left of her. Even pregnant women's bodies take some time to readjust to not having that weight. But mom loses it all at once each time. And 7.2 liters is a LOT of fluid.
I spent most of yesterday on the phone with the Cancer Center and Hospice (sometimes in tears) trying to get someone to place orders to test the fluid. Finally last night a very nice Hospice supervisor offered to call mom's primary care doctor and see if she would be willing to place the order. This morning at exactly 9am I got a call from a Hospice nurse letting me know they hadn't heard anything yet and suggested I call mom's primary care doctor. I did just that and about a 1/2 hour later, her DOCTOR actually called me back. Not a staff member, not a nurse, but her doctor. This is a doctor that really doesn't know mom all that well. She just took over her care shortly before mom's diagnosis. I was shocked to actually have her on the phone. She was very nice and explained to me that the reason no one wants to test the fluid is that it is not an accurate assessment of the status of the cancer. Depending on what part was tested, there could be more or less cancer cells and no one wants to give mom a false prognosis. That was the best explanation I had been given and really appreciated her call and her time. She suggested that we talk to mom's Oncologist about what test would be appropriate for mom to get the answers we needed, which we will do on Monday at her appt at the Cancer Center.
One thing that was continuously repeated in all my phone calls was the fact that mom's cancer is bad. No one, medically speaking, thinks it has gotten better. That still feels like a punch in the gut because I think all of us who love her want to believe it has. But as far as the doctors are concerned, the reality of it all is not pretty.
So, 7.2 liters drained. Mom had to be wheeled out again. She couldn't walk because her equilibrium was so off. But I called her tonight and she was doing well.
So, now we will have the appt at the Cancer Center on Monday...and then we just wait. We wait to see how long it takes to fill back up. If we're back in under 3 weeks again after 7.2 liters, the cancer is definitely back full force. But maybe there will be more time.
Time. It's so relative to me these days. And yet, so incredibly important. And it seems like it's ticking loudly in my ear. Today was hard for me as I had errands to run before we headed to Everett and then things took a little longer than anticipated and then it took me nearly a full two hours to get home in traffic and I had to rush to the birth center to teach a class. I was so stressed over time and then managed to dump all my papers all over the parking lot as I got out of my car. I was surprised I didn't just drop to the sidewalk in tears. But I held it together and I taught my class and am grateful for that outlet quite honestly. Even when it seems too hard to put together a sentence, I can pull it together and teach a childbirth class.
But much of today I seem to replay in slow motion. The parts that include mom anyway. The rest seems in super speed. It's as though my brain is holding on to every little moment with mom right now. It's an odd sort of sensation.
On a side note, a friend of mine, Julie, told me yesterday she saw a shirt at a Forza Coffee Shop here in town that said "Cancer Sucks". I knew I had to have it. I stopped at my local Forza and they didn't have any more. So Julie called around for me and found one in Puyallup that had them. I made a special trip out there this morning for one. It's a brown shirt and in pink lettering it says, in Italian, "il Cancro Succhia" and below that in smaller white letters it says "...cancer sucks". I love it and put it right on to wear to the hospital today.
On the way up, I stopped at a pizza place to get the boys lunch in Everett. A woman probably about mom's age stopped me to read my shirt and her response was, "Boy, does it ever! I had it!" She then asked me if I had cancer. I told her it was my mom. She asked me what kind...that's the question I always get next and the one that is so hard to answer. I told her we don't know...it's of an undiagnosed origin. And this woman was genuinely touched and felt genuinely sad. She asked me for mom's first name and told me she would pray for her. It still makes me cry as I think about it. I was holding back tears as we left the pizza place. As we were walking through the parking lot, she was leaving at the same time and approached me again and said, "How is your dad taking it?" She didn't know anything about my parents. She didn't know if I even had a dad still living or anything...but yet, it was if she really did just KNOW. I told her it has been hard and told her a little about mom and dad's relationship and how long they have known one another. This woman was drawn to me out of understanding. And two strangers met and bonded quickly over this disease. It was beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. But it touched my heart in ways that I just can't explain. I don't think I'll ever forget her. And I never even asked her for her name. :-(
It's been a long day and I'm ready to go lie down. Tomorrow is a day off (if my clients allow it...;-)). I'm going to do my best to rest. But I'm never very good at that.
Only time will tell what happens from here. One day at a a time. Slow motion or in fast forward. One day...one moment...at a time.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Day 139: Here We Go Again
Mom will have her stomach drained at 2:15pm at the hospital tomorrow. I will go up to join mom and dad. Dad doesn't want to go back for the procedure and I don't want mom to be alone so I've promised I'll always be there.
We're trying to make sure that one of the liters gets tested again so we can find out the status of the cancer cells...even though it seems kind of obvious right now. But specifics are often necessary for the brain to comprehend a situation like this.
I feel as though I have been thrown backwards into the world I knew so well 3 & 1/2 months ago. I didn't like it there though and I wish I didn't have to go back. Even though I always knew that someday I would. My stress level is high. The tears are falling again. And the fear is sometimes debilitating. But I fight through it because I have to. I can hear the sadness and fear in mom and dad's voices. I have to be the strong one now and throughout all this I have learned how strong I can be.
The boys and I just finished a week of Daycations. I had some time in between clients and decided to use it. We had so much fun and did little things that they will remember as they grow up. I agonized over the money I spent...probably shouldn't have spent it. But right now I believe every penny was money well spent. We all needed that week. I think we'll all hang on to it for a while. At least I know I will. That week was a gift and I am grateful for it. It helped relax my body and prepare me for the fight that is to come.
Please keep your thoughts and prayers coming. I'm hoping some of you are still out there reading since I was taking so much time off from blogging as there were no real updates.
I expect I'll be updating on a more daily basis again now.
We're trying to make sure that one of the liters gets tested again so we can find out the status of the cancer cells...even though it seems kind of obvious right now. But specifics are often necessary for the brain to comprehend a situation like this.
I feel as though I have been thrown backwards into the world I knew so well 3 & 1/2 months ago. I didn't like it there though and I wish I didn't have to go back. Even though I always knew that someday I would. My stress level is high. The tears are falling again. And the fear is sometimes debilitating. But I fight through it because I have to. I can hear the sadness and fear in mom and dad's voices. I have to be the strong one now and throughout all this I have learned how strong I can be.
The boys and I just finished a week of Daycations. I had some time in between clients and decided to use it. We had so much fun and did little things that they will remember as they grow up. I agonized over the money I spent...probably shouldn't have spent it. But right now I believe every penny was money well spent. We all needed that week. I think we'll all hang on to it for a while. At least I know I will. That week was a gift and I am grateful for it. It helped relax my body and prepare me for the fight that is to come.
Please keep your thoughts and prayers coming. I'm hoping some of you are still out there reading since I was taking so much time off from blogging as there were no real updates.
I expect I'll be updating on a more daily basis again now.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Day 138: Something is Happening
Just talked with mom and dad. I could hear it in their voices. The Hospice nurse was there today. Mom has gained 6lbs since last Tuesday. That's all fluid. It's time to drain again. It's only been 2 & 1/2 weeks. I was hoping for longer.
This was the sign I was hoping we wouldn't get.
Mom and dad have an appt at the cancer center on Monday, but her stomach will probably be drained tomorrow or Thursday at the latest. We're hoping that they will be able to test the fluid this time. Although I don't know that we actually need the test to get an answer anymore.
It's back. I know we knew it never went away, but we wanted to believe it did.
I'm convinced now that mom almost dying shunted all the energy away from the cancer cells to keep her alive. And she survived. But the cancer never stopped fighting. And it is strong and it is winning.
Mom said she had a breakdown this morning. That is so hard to hear. But I could hear it in her voice anyway. I could hear it in both hers and dads. The phone calls are starting. The cancer center. Hospice. The panic is starting to build again.
And so I have to remember to breathe. To take one moment at a time.
But I'm scared.
Again, I'm so damn scared.
I let myself get comfortable. I let my guard down. I let my heart convince my brain in miracles. And maybe it was a small one. We did get time.
I just want more.
I want so much more.
This was the sign I was hoping we wouldn't get.
Mom and dad have an appt at the cancer center on Monday, but her stomach will probably be drained tomorrow or Thursday at the latest. We're hoping that they will be able to test the fluid this time. Although I don't know that we actually need the test to get an answer anymore.
It's back. I know we knew it never went away, but we wanted to believe it did.
I'm convinced now that mom almost dying shunted all the energy away from the cancer cells to keep her alive. And she survived. But the cancer never stopped fighting. And it is strong and it is winning.
Mom said she had a breakdown this morning. That is so hard to hear. But I could hear it in her voice anyway. I could hear it in both hers and dads. The phone calls are starting. The cancer center. Hospice. The panic is starting to build again.
And so I have to remember to breathe. To take one moment at a time.
But I'm scared.
Again, I'm so damn scared.
I let myself get comfortable. I let my guard down. I let my heart convince my brain in miracles. And maybe it was a small one. We did get time.
I just want more.
I want so much more.
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