Friday, December 28 - My daughter had a mass on her right breast that she brought to my attention in 2010. She was eighteen years old; it was her senior year, and we were preparing for the State Track meet where she would be competing in three events. I will never forget when she got out of the shower and called me to the bathroom asking, "Mom do you think this is normal?" I felt a hard mass the size of a large marble. Not only was I shocked, I was scared to death. I'm sure I probably overreacted. I know I immediately called my Sister and Mom. The next twenty-four hours dragged by until I could get her in to a specialist.
I remember taking both my daughter and my Mom to the breast specialist for their consultations. At the time, I saw this as very ironic. How could this be happening to two of the people whom I love most in this world and at the same time??? My daughters mass was easily explained away by the doctor as a cyst. We were instructed that we could choose to remove it; but that it was completely harmless, and it might even go away on it's own if left untreated. My daughter made the decision to leave it. She took the wait and see attitude. I was comfortable with the diagnosis, and felt confident in her decision. I understood her not wanting to have a large scar at her young age.
Fast forward two years and now my Mom has been diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. Suddenly, I was no longer confident and worry began to set in. What if Chandelar's mass changed? Would she tell me? Was she paying attention to her health while she was training at college? What if...? I was so worried that I called our physician, a life-long friend, and made an appointment for her yearly well woman exam, a mammogram, sonogram, and a CT Scan.
We spent the entire day today at the hospital for this round of exams followed by the doctors' office call. Chandelar passed with flying colors. Thank God! As I type this, I feel so relieved and once again blessed. The mass has completely dissolved. There isn't a trace of it. The entire breast looks great. Nothing to worry about. No more what if's. And I will never have to say, "I wish I would have..."
I have vowed that my daughters and I will have our yearly exams. On scheduled and including the recommended breast exams and mammograms. I hope other women also see the absolute necessity of these yearly check-ups.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Christmas with Cancer
Tuesday, December 25 - Christmas was a great day. I think that everyone actually felt the pressure of capturing each moment and committing it to memory. Relatives seemed extra sensitive to one another. My Mom actually got kicked out of the kitchen to lie down and rest for awhile while my sister and our girls cleared off the table, washed the dishes, and sat out all of the deserts.
Mom still has not had a sick day and I am so thankful for that. I know many others don't fare as well with their chemotherapy treatments. My Mom feels blessed and is thankful for every day that she is able to work.
Now that her head is completely shaved she is also more comfortable with her head and her wig fits and feels better on her head. No eyelash or eyebrow loss yet.
My youngest daughter proclaimed this day a "Pink-Out" and we all tried to wear something pink. We all have a new appreciation for the Breast Cancer logos, ribbons, bracelets, and anything that benefits the cause. My daughters enjoyed their "I race for Marilyn Easton" breast cancer awareness t-shirt gifts so much and I made them both pink friendship bracelets. Most of all we just treasured our time together.
It is always so sad to drive away from my Mom's house Christmas evening. My sister gets in her vehicle with her family; and I get into my own vehicle with my family, and we just drive away. My mom always stands in her doorway waving goodbye and my heart breaks just a little. After all we are leaving to go to our own homes filled with children and noise and she is all alone. Even though we have done this for years now, I found it especially sad this year.
Mom still has not had a sick day and I am so thankful for that. I know many others don't fare as well with their chemotherapy treatments. My Mom feels blessed and is thankful for every day that she is able to work.
Now that her head is completely shaved she is also more comfortable with her head and her wig fits and feels better on her head. No eyelash or eyebrow loss yet.
My youngest daughter proclaimed this day a "Pink-Out" and we all tried to wear something pink. We all have a new appreciation for the Breast Cancer logos, ribbons, bracelets, and anything that benefits the cause. My daughters enjoyed their "I race for Marilyn Easton" breast cancer awareness t-shirt gifts so much and I made them both pink friendship bracelets. Most of all we just treasured our time together.
It is always so sad to drive away from my Mom's house Christmas evening. My sister gets in her vehicle with her family; and I get into my own vehicle with my family, and we just drive away. My mom always stands in her doorway waving goodbye and my heart breaks just a little. After all we are leaving to go to our own homes filled with children and noise and she is all alone. Even though we have done this for years now, I found it especially sad this year.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Punched cancer again today!
Monday, December 24 - Mom was able to have her chemo treatment today. All of her blood levels were just were they needed to be. YEAH! :) After two weeks of missing treatment, this was great news.
I am a very goal oriented person. When the doctor said twelve weeks of chemotherapy my mathematical mind started counting the days. 84 days, - 12 weeks, - 3 months... ok the end of February; we can do this, No Problem! We've got this! Now I know that twelve weeks is a very loose spectrum of time which translates to 12 weeks of perfect blood. And, by the way, these blood levels are completely out of the patients control. There is no magic food that my Mom can eat, no magic pill that will help bring up a count, absolutely nothing that she can control. Twelve weeks could easily lead no 14, 16, 18, etc...very quickly. Three months could easily stretch out to six. And again in my goal oriented perspective, these missed treatment weeks amount to time when the Cancer is winning.
The doctor has explained to me that when the blood levels are not perfect the chemo drugs would do more damage to my Mom's immune system than good in fighting the Cancer. He patiently explained to me that she would have no immunities to fight even a common cold, or some sneaky bacteria that could later turn out to be deadly if her body were not able to fight it. I see now....OK Doc., I just have to put on my Patient Hat and hope for the best each time my mom travels more than an hour to an appointment that might not even happen because of some sneaky blood cell that is choosing not to cooperate.
I love going with my mom to the Oncology Clinic. Everyone there is so supportive and loving. Today the feeling was especially nice since the nurses and staff were celebrating Christmas Eve. The wore Christmas sweaters, reindeer antlers and Santa hats. The clinic was filled with candy, cookies, hot chocolate and all of the sights and sounds to Christmas.
My mom sat in the recliner with the chemo drugs passing in to her body through her port for more than three hours. I visited with her, the nurses, and the people around us. This camaraderie and communication between perfect strangers is the most amazing part to me and the part that I love the most. There was a teacher in the next chair visiting with a colleague who had attended to support her. An elderly veteran slept in a recliner in the corner. His snoring was so loud I had to smile, and somehow I was able to just tune it out. All of the nurses loved him and it was evident that he is a "regular". I could tell because they actually gave him small food gifts. The military tattoos and the hat he wore gave him away when he walked past us in to the bathroom. He smiled and visited with everyone around him. The next chair was occupied by a prisoner. He wore his orange jump suit to the treatment and the two men visiting with him were actually police officers. These three men spoke to all of the people who sat around them, and in that moment the only thing that gave them away was the clothes they wore that segregated them to some specific lot in life. These people were all battling some form of Cancer. Each one knew what the others were facing. They all share the same unseen fears.
I am so glad I got to share this day with my mom. Even if she sentenced me (the person who does ALL of her Christmas shopping online) to the mall to finish up some of her last minute gifts. The oncology clinic on this day reminded me of the true meaning of Christmas.
My husband and daughters came to my Mom's house that evening and we finished shaving off the remaining stragglers of hair. Those few remaining that refused to just give up and fall out. My daughters helped her wash her newly discovered scalp. We all laughed and the girls rubbed her head, kissed it, and made a wish. Mom laughed until her side hurt. This, I believe, is what families suffering through Cancer do. It is these small snippets in time that we will always remember. These are the moments that have touched our souls.
I am a very goal oriented person. When the doctor said twelve weeks of chemotherapy my mathematical mind started counting the days. 84 days, - 12 weeks, - 3 months... ok the end of February; we can do this, No Problem! We've got this! Now I know that twelve weeks is a very loose spectrum of time which translates to 12 weeks of perfect blood. And, by the way, these blood levels are completely out of the patients control. There is no magic food that my Mom can eat, no magic pill that will help bring up a count, absolutely nothing that she can control. Twelve weeks could easily lead no 14, 16, 18, etc...very quickly. Three months could easily stretch out to six. And again in my goal oriented perspective, these missed treatment weeks amount to time when the Cancer is winning.
The doctor has explained to me that when the blood levels are not perfect the chemo drugs would do more damage to my Mom's immune system than good in fighting the Cancer. He patiently explained to me that she would have no immunities to fight even a common cold, or some sneaky bacteria that could later turn out to be deadly if her body were not able to fight it. I see now....OK Doc., I just have to put on my Patient Hat and hope for the best each time my mom travels more than an hour to an appointment that might not even happen because of some sneaky blood cell that is choosing not to cooperate.
I love going with my mom to the Oncology Clinic. Everyone there is so supportive and loving. Today the feeling was especially nice since the nurses and staff were celebrating Christmas Eve. The wore Christmas sweaters, reindeer antlers and Santa hats. The clinic was filled with candy, cookies, hot chocolate and all of the sights and sounds to Christmas.
My mom sat in the recliner with the chemo drugs passing in to her body through her port for more than three hours. I visited with her, the nurses, and the people around us. This camaraderie and communication between perfect strangers is the most amazing part to me and the part that I love the most. There was a teacher in the next chair visiting with a colleague who had attended to support her. An elderly veteran slept in a recliner in the corner. His snoring was so loud I had to smile, and somehow I was able to just tune it out. All of the nurses loved him and it was evident that he is a "regular". I could tell because they actually gave him small food gifts. The military tattoos and the hat he wore gave him away when he walked past us in to the bathroom. He smiled and visited with everyone around him. The next chair was occupied by a prisoner. He wore his orange jump suit to the treatment and the two men visiting with him were actually police officers. These three men spoke to all of the people who sat around them, and in that moment the only thing that gave them away was the clothes they wore that segregated them to some specific lot in life. These people were all battling some form of Cancer. Each one knew what the others were facing. They all share the same unseen fears.
I am so glad I got to share this day with my mom. Even if she sentenced me (the person who does ALL of her Christmas shopping online) to the mall to finish up some of her last minute gifts. The oncology clinic on this day reminded me of the true meaning of Christmas.
My husband and daughters came to my Mom's house that evening and we finished shaving off the remaining stragglers of hair. Those few remaining that refused to just give up and fall out. My daughters helped her wash her newly discovered scalp. We all laughed and the girls rubbed her head, kissed it, and made a wish. Mom laughed until her side hurt. This, I believe, is what families suffering through Cancer do. It is these small snippets in time that we will always remember. These are the moments that have touched our souls.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
The shock of hair loss
Sunday, December 23 - Sunday is probably one of the loneliest days of the week for my Mom. Growing up, Sunday was spent with my Grandparents usually having a big meal and all of the family time that comes with that. Now that my sister and I have our own families, Sunday can be very lonely for my Mom. I enjoy a long run on Sunday morning. I don't like to be hurried to go to lunch, but prefer to eat much later in the day. Sunday is the day that I finish up laundry, homework, and anything else that needs to be done before the week starts again. I know my sister does much the same. Sometimes we all go down to my Mom's house for lunch, and my Mom often goes over to my sister's house on Sunday. They are both wonderful cooks and enjoy sharing their cooking with others.
Today, my youngest niece volunteered to go to my Mom's to help clean house before we all come for Christmas on Tuesday. The two of them were also going to make Christmas candy. My niece enjoys to cook and she often spends the night at my Mom's house.This is something Payton has enjoyed since she was a very little girl. The two of them share a special bond that I believe none of us can ever understand. It was Payton that was with my Mom when she found her own mother dead from a heart attack, and Payton who waited with my Mom for the coroner to arrive. She was so little; only four, but I know how traumatic moments like this one can stick with a child throughout their lives. It took a half hour to forty-five minutes for my sister and I to get to the house. We were only there for the aftermath.
I was not at Mom's today, but she relayed the story to me later when I called. Mom had not taken the time to put on her wig or makeup; and at some point she showed Payton her head, which is now mostly bald. My Mom said she thinks Payton was scared and that she looked very sad even though she didn't say anything. I know this must have been a shock to her. She is seventeen, a senior in high school, and far from a child now but this is a shock even to my Mom when she looks in the mirror at herself. My Mom felt bad that Payton had seen her this way. She doesn't want the girls to worry or to for feel sad. I asked my Mom to make sure that she did have her wig on when my thirteen year old comes to visit, and to at least give her a chance to prepare before she shows her that all of her hair is now gone.
I'm not sure what the protocol is for this. Just as I'm not sure what the protocol is for a lot of the things that come along with parenthood. Too bad there is not an instruction manual. I know; however, the shock is a great deal for a child or an adult to deal with especially knowing that the hair loss is not voluntary, and that this person is sick and may be suffering themselves. I don't believe there is a "proper" way to act.
My heart goes out to any parent who has to figure out just how to approach this with their child. And to any child who has to deal with hair loss and figure out how to show their friends.
Today, my youngest niece volunteered to go to my Mom's to help clean house before we all come for Christmas on Tuesday. The two of them were also going to make Christmas candy. My niece enjoys to cook and she often spends the night at my Mom's house.This is something Payton has enjoyed since she was a very little girl. The two of them share a special bond that I believe none of us can ever understand. It was Payton that was with my Mom when she found her own mother dead from a heart attack, and Payton who waited with my Mom for the coroner to arrive. She was so little; only four, but I know how traumatic moments like this one can stick with a child throughout their lives. It took a half hour to forty-five minutes for my sister and I to get to the house. We were only there for the aftermath.
I was not at Mom's today, but she relayed the story to me later when I called. Mom had not taken the time to put on her wig or makeup; and at some point she showed Payton her head, which is now mostly bald. My Mom said she thinks Payton was scared and that she looked very sad even though she didn't say anything. I know this must have been a shock to her. She is seventeen, a senior in high school, and far from a child now but this is a shock even to my Mom when she looks in the mirror at herself. My Mom felt bad that Payton had seen her this way. She doesn't want the girls to worry or to for feel sad. I asked my Mom to make sure that she did have her wig on when my thirteen year old comes to visit, and to at least give her a chance to prepare before she shows her that all of her hair is now gone.
I'm not sure what the protocol is for this. Just as I'm not sure what the protocol is for a lot of the things that come along with parenthood. Too bad there is not an instruction manual. I know; however, the shock is a great deal for a child or an adult to deal with especially knowing that the hair loss is not voluntary, and that this person is sick and may be suffering themselves. I don't believe there is a "proper" way to act.
My heart goes out to any parent who has to figure out just how to approach this with their child. And to any child who has to deal with hair loss and figure out how to show their friends.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Work
Saturday, December 22 - Christmas shopping is at an all time frenzy in our small town. Maybe the economy is turning around! My Mom has been "retired" from her long time factory employer for some time now. Since then, she has done a couple of different jobs including working at my Sister's Floral shop and for a couple of months as a secretary. For the past five years or so however my Mom has supplemented her income by working part time for Unified Services. This is a business that is supported by the Missouri Association of Sheltered Workshops. The business employes the handicapped individuals from our community that might not find a job anywhere else. The business is supported by donations from the community and has recently started stocking "new" items that are purchased in bulk from warehouses that are overstocked. Each day the supervisor from the workshop brings out a van of handicapped individuals to sort donations, stock shelves, vacuum floors, etc... These people really enjoy their work and the fact that they are able to really earn money for themselves. My mom is the part-time cashier and helps to direct the employees while they sack for her or as they stock the shelves.
Throughout my life-time my Mom has never, and I mean NEVER, missed work. She has always been one of those people that is there every day no matter what. As children, when my sister and I were sick (which was rarely) we stayed with my Grandparents. I remember Grandma and Grandpa buying us cozy pajamas when we both had the mumps. Grandma and Grandpa being there to remind us not to scratch when we had chicken-pox. It was Grandma that rushed me to the emergency room when I had to have my appendix taken out. And, it was Grandma who checked me in to the hospital when the doctors took out my tonsils. Mom has always said "if I don't work, I don't get paid". This has always been crystal clear to me. My sister and I have never really wanted for anything despite my Mom raising us as a single mother. We never needed handouts, we were never on welfare or food stamps. We just accepted that my Mom had to work. My sister and I were those kids that are in school every day, sick or not, and didn't leave school for anything until my Grandad (who drove our school bus) took us home. We were the first ones on the bus and the last ones off of the bus. When we got home there were chores that needed to be finished up before my mom got home from work. Every day for my entire life my mom would magically appear at 5:30 just like clock-work. Now looking back on this I don't know how she did it. As a mother of two girls myself who has a husband that helps to provide when I think back on my youth what my Mother did for us and just how she managed to do it amazes me.
When my sister and I got older, we would often ask Mom why she had never remarried. Wouldn't she like to meet someone, and as teenagers we tried to imagine what it would be like to have a man in our house. My Mom wouldn't hear of it. "Where would I meet someone around here?" she would say, ..."at a bar?, that is someone I wouldn't want to meet...." Mom has always told us that she married the man of her life, (our Father), and that no one could ever take his place. And, that was the end of that, we have never even seen my Mom with another man.
My Mom's work ethic is unbelievable. I will admit at times I have resented it. She will not take off work; therefore, all of life's special events better not happen on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday, because those are the days that my Mom works. If for some reason something happens on those days, we just accept the fact that my Mom will not be there. She has missed four state track meets where my daughter competed and earned her spot on the podium, she has missed Grandparent's day at school, school parties, etc...all of those little events that have the nerve to be scheduled at the end of the week. My sister and I understand that Mom will be at every one of her grandchildren s' important life events - as long as those events do not happen on Thurs., Fri., or Saturday. We have always accepted this.
Since her diagnosis with inflammatory breast cancer, nothing in my Mom's insistence to work has really changed. As she sat in the doctor's office hearing the news for the first time (Tuesday); her main concern seemed to be that the doctor was telling her she needed to be at the hospital early Friday morning for the implant of the porta-cast and that she should plan on the testing in the hospital to last at least two days. She tried to put it off until Monday, but the oncologist insisted that this was life-threatening and must be done Friday, the day following Thanksgiving. Mom hesitantly called in and told her boss that she wouldn't be in on Friday and Saturday. I know that not only was this news a shock to her boss, but then Mom told her why it was necessary to miss...I'm sure the poor woman must have sat there with her mouth wide open.
Mom had agreed months prior to her diagnosis to take off of work on Friday, December 14, for my nieces graduation from Missouri University. After all, Meghan wasn't just graduating, she was graduating with Honors from MU's School of Business. The University of Missouri School of Business is one of the finest and by far most competitive programs in the state of Missouri. Meghan had been chosen to give the speech for the students of the School of Business and she had ten front row seats in the auditorium for her family. Mom had arranged to switch with another employee; a Friday for a Monday, where she could make up her lost day at work. My sister and Meghan were very understanding after Mom's diagnosis, they knew that she might not feel like making the four hour one-way trip to the University campus for the graduation. Thank God that my Mom did make it. This will be a memory that our family will always cherish, and it would not have been the same without my Mom. Sure enough in spite of losing her hair over the weekend, there was my Mom promptly at 8:30AM the following Monday there to open the doors.
This Saturday, December 22, was the busiest day the my Mom has ever seen at the Nifty Thrifty. She worked at the register non-stop from 9AM to 6PM with people waiting patiently in line to be the next to check-out with their Christmas treasures. No one would have suspected that she has Cancer. Mom dealt with the grumpy customers, the customers who wanted to haggle over a dollar item that had been donated by someone else, and those who were also determined to spread Christmas cheer; and all with a smile, and a thank-you and have a Merry Christmas. I dropped by after doing some Christmas shopping of my own and stood aside; trying to stay out of the way, explaining that I was not in line, all the while watching my Mom in amazement. Just as I have done throughout my lifetime.
I called her later that night and worried at 6:30PM when she didn't answer her phone. She had time to make the twenty-minute drive home. Where could she be? Finally, I called her prepaid cell phone when she wasn't in the house by 7:15 fearing that something had gone wrong. She had just pulled in her drive, and was parking her car. Mom had stopped at the local Wal-mart finishing up some last minute shopping and was picking up groceries for our Christmas dinner. She said that she was so tired she felt like she could hardly drag herself through the door. No wonder, working nine hours non-stop, shopping, carrying her groceries in to the house (several trips) then putting everything away. Once again my Mom's tenacity will never fail to amaze me. As my husband likes to say, "Your Mom is like a machine!". Yes, maybe she is, but she is so much more!
Thank you, Mom, for everything!
Throughout my life-time my Mom has never, and I mean NEVER, missed work. She has always been one of those people that is there every day no matter what. As children, when my sister and I were sick (which was rarely) we stayed with my Grandparents. I remember Grandma and Grandpa buying us cozy pajamas when we both had the mumps. Grandma and Grandpa being there to remind us not to scratch when we had chicken-pox. It was Grandma that rushed me to the emergency room when I had to have my appendix taken out. And, it was Grandma who checked me in to the hospital when the doctors took out my tonsils. Mom has always said "if I don't work, I don't get paid". This has always been crystal clear to me. My sister and I have never really wanted for anything despite my Mom raising us as a single mother. We never needed handouts, we were never on welfare or food stamps. We just accepted that my Mom had to work. My sister and I were those kids that are in school every day, sick or not, and didn't leave school for anything until my Grandad (who drove our school bus) took us home. We were the first ones on the bus and the last ones off of the bus. When we got home there were chores that needed to be finished up before my mom got home from work. Every day for my entire life my mom would magically appear at 5:30 just like clock-work. Now looking back on this I don't know how she did it. As a mother of two girls myself who has a husband that helps to provide when I think back on my youth what my Mother did for us and just how she managed to do it amazes me.
When my sister and I got older, we would often ask Mom why she had never remarried. Wouldn't she like to meet someone, and as teenagers we tried to imagine what it would be like to have a man in our house. My Mom wouldn't hear of it. "Where would I meet someone around here?" she would say, ..."at a bar?, that is someone I wouldn't want to meet...." Mom has always told us that she married the man of her life, (our Father), and that no one could ever take his place. And, that was the end of that, we have never even seen my Mom with another man.
My Mom's work ethic is unbelievable. I will admit at times I have resented it. She will not take off work; therefore, all of life's special events better not happen on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday, because those are the days that my Mom works. If for some reason something happens on those days, we just accept the fact that my Mom will not be there. She has missed four state track meets where my daughter competed and earned her spot on the podium, she has missed Grandparent's day at school, school parties, etc...all of those little events that have the nerve to be scheduled at the end of the week. My sister and I understand that Mom will be at every one of her grandchildren s' important life events - as long as those events do not happen on Thurs., Fri., or Saturday. We have always accepted this.
Since her diagnosis with inflammatory breast cancer, nothing in my Mom's insistence to work has really changed. As she sat in the doctor's office hearing the news for the first time (Tuesday); her main concern seemed to be that the doctor was telling her she needed to be at the hospital early Friday morning for the implant of the porta-cast and that she should plan on the testing in the hospital to last at least two days. She tried to put it off until Monday, but the oncologist insisted that this was life-threatening and must be done Friday, the day following Thanksgiving. Mom hesitantly called in and told her boss that she wouldn't be in on Friday and Saturday. I know that not only was this news a shock to her boss, but then Mom told her why it was necessary to miss...I'm sure the poor woman must have sat there with her mouth wide open.
Mom had agreed months prior to her diagnosis to take off of work on Friday, December 14, for my nieces graduation from Missouri University. After all, Meghan wasn't just graduating, she was graduating with Honors from MU's School of Business. The University of Missouri School of Business is one of the finest and by far most competitive programs in the state of Missouri. Meghan had been chosen to give the speech for the students of the School of Business and she had ten front row seats in the auditorium for her family. Mom had arranged to switch with another employee; a Friday for a Monday, where she could make up her lost day at work. My sister and Meghan were very understanding after Mom's diagnosis, they knew that she might not feel like making the four hour one-way trip to the University campus for the graduation. Thank God that my Mom did make it. This will be a memory that our family will always cherish, and it would not have been the same without my Mom. Sure enough in spite of losing her hair over the weekend, there was my Mom promptly at 8:30AM the following Monday there to open the doors.
This Saturday, December 22, was the busiest day the my Mom has ever seen at the Nifty Thrifty. She worked at the register non-stop from 9AM to 6PM with people waiting patiently in line to be the next to check-out with their Christmas treasures. No one would have suspected that she has Cancer. Mom dealt with the grumpy customers, the customers who wanted to haggle over a dollar item that had been donated by someone else, and those who were also determined to spread Christmas cheer; and all with a smile, and a thank-you and have a Merry Christmas. I dropped by after doing some Christmas shopping of my own and stood aside; trying to stay out of the way, explaining that I was not in line, all the while watching my Mom in amazement. Just as I have done throughout my lifetime.
I called her later that night and worried at 6:30PM when she didn't answer her phone. She had time to make the twenty-minute drive home. Where could she be? Finally, I called her prepaid cell phone when she wasn't in the house by 7:15 fearing that something had gone wrong. She had just pulled in her drive, and was parking her car. Mom had stopped at the local Wal-mart finishing up some last minute shopping and was picking up groceries for our Christmas dinner. She said that she was so tired she felt like she could hardly drag herself through the door. No wonder, working nine hours non-stop, shopping, carrying her groceries in to the house (several trips) then putting everything away. Once again my Mom's tenacity will never fail to amaze me. As my husband likes to say, "Your Mom is like a machine!". Yes, maybe she is, but she is so much more!
Thank you, Mom, for everything!
Friday, December 21, 2012
Cat's In the Cradle
Friday, December 21 - The end on the Mayan Calendar - it looks like we survived! :) The winter solstice - yeah, the days will gradually get longer! :) Finalizing the Christmas shopping and buying groceries for that Christmas Dinner. The local Wal-Mart is an extremely busy place during the Christmas holidays in our small town. Especially because yesterday we had Blizzard Conditions in Northwest Missouri that kept everyone shut-in and at home, interstates shut down, and today the sun was shining brightly on the new snow. The shopping trip today with my youngest daughter; who is an expert with the calculator, took more than four hours. It seemed like there was someone who was concerned about my Mom and our family in every single aisle. I appreciate their concern, their hugs, and their well wishes. I would put on my most sincere smile and give them the rote answer, "Mom is handling this extremely well...., please stop by and see her...,she hasn't had a sick day yet..., she is driving herself to her doctors appointments..., we feel blessed and appreciative of every single day that she feels well..." I started thinking about how I have changed since my Mom's diagnosis.
My family has never been the "touchy/feely" type. I can never remember my grandparents giving me a hug or a kiss. I never heard the words, "I love you" from either of them. Nor can I ever remember them touching one another. I do recall once; when I was very young, hugging my grandfather tightly while I sat beside him on a tractor....I immediately felt him stiffen and he said something like, "what's wrong with you?". That was the last time I ever hugged him... including when the doctors and nurses rolled him into the operating room to remove a "mass" from his intestine. Grandad never fully came out from under the anesthesia and died three days later...and I never said I love you.
Thus; I learned early on, that I can share my love, and I can feel love. without touching everyone whom I come contact with. I have to make a conscious effort to hug my own children when they leave and when I first see them for the first time each day. I never hug or touch the students I teach and I get the feeling that my colleagues just know that I'm not open to their hugs.
Prior to my Mom's diagnosis, several days would pass without my talking to her on the phone. I am a very a busy person, and I go pretty much full-throttle until I completely shut down; usually around 9PM. I have always felt that my Mom knows exactly how important she is to me without my calling her (long distance) to tell her. After all she is always there for me - my Mom is my touchstone.
Since my older daughter went off to college a year and a half ago, I have told my husband many times that her not calling me for an entire week was "God's punishment for how I've neglected my Mom", and that "I know I deserve this." But, always I know just how much Chandelar loves me.
Since my Mom's diagnosis I find the need to talk to her every day and I end every conversation by reminding her that I love her. The first time, I could tell that she was caught off guard, but I think that she can also see that I'm getting better at it. I have started making sure that I take the time to give both of my girls a real hug when I first see them and a long hug when they are leaving. I have vowed not miss saying another I love you.
And, suddenly, I appreciate the hugs from people that I've know all of my life but whom I have never shared real physical contact. I appreciate it when they hold my hand or pat my back telling me that they are praying for us. I hope I never take this for granted again! There is a positive that has come from the Cancer Diagnosis.
My family has never been the "touchy/feely" type. I can never remember my grandparents giving me a hug or a kiss. I never heard the words, "I love you" from either of them. Nor can I ever remember them touching one another. I do recall once; when I was very young, hugging my grandfather tightly while I sat beside him on a tractor....I immediately felt him stiffen and he said something like, "what's wrong with you?". That was the last time I ever hugged him... including when the doctors and nurses rolled him into the operating room to remove a "mass" from his intestine. Grandad never fully came out from under the anesthesia and died three days later...and I never said I love you.
Thus; I learned early on, that I can share my love, and I can feel love. without touching everyone whom I come contact with. I have to make a conscious effort to hug my own children when they leave and when I first see them for the first time each day. I never hug or touch the students I teach and I get the feeling that my colleagues just know that I'm not open to their hugs.
Prior to my Mom's diagnosis, several days would pass without my talking to her on the phone. I am a very a busy person, and I go pretty much full-throttle until I completely shut down; usually around 9PM. I have always felt that my Mom knows exactly how important she is to me without my calling her (long distance) to tell her. After all she is always there for me - my Mom is my touchstone.
Since my older daughter went off to college a year and a half ago, I have told my husband many times that her not calling me for an entire week was "God's punishment for how I've neglected my Mom", and that "I know I deserve this." But, always I know just how much Chandelar loves me.
Since my Mom's diagnosis I find the need to talk to her every day and I end every conversation by reminding her that I love her. The first time, I could tell that she was caught off guard, but I think that she can also see that I'm getting better at it. I have started making sure that I take the time to give both of my girls a real hug when I first see them and a long hug when they are leaving. I have vowed not miss saying another I love you.
And, suddenly, I appreciate the hugs from people that I've know all of my life but whom I have never shared real physical contact. I appreciate it when they hold my hand or pat my back telling me that they are praying for us. I hope I never take this for granted again! There is a positive that has come from the Cancer Diagnosis.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Dr. Doolittle
Wednesday, December 19 - Mom went to her monthly regular check-up with her local health care provider today. This was the first time that she had shared her news with the nurse practitioner who had treated her since she had gotten her pace-maker inserted several years ago. My mom saw the nurse practitioner monthly to monitor her blood thinning medication, blood pressure, and general health. Mom said that Dr. Doolittle was moved to tears when she explained her diagnosis. The practitioner gave my mom a hug and told her to stay in touch and that she would be praying for our family.
Mom had begun to receive anonymous money gifts in her mail box. A local women's church group had knitted her a lap quilt and a stocking cap. She had received money from her employer and a promise that she could return to her part-time job if she had to take a leave of absence at some point in the future. Christmas cards were pouring in and Mom mentioned many times that she couldn't believe that so many cared about her. She had been alone for so long.
We live in a small rural community where everyone knows everyone else. I feel blessed that my Mom is surrounded by people who love her so much. My co-workers asked about her daily. I know that their thoughts and prayers are with us.
Mom had begun to receive anonymous money gifts in her mail box. A local women's church group had knitted her a lap quilt and a stocking cap. She had received money from her employer and a promise that she could return to her part-time job if she had to take a leave of absence at some point in the future. Christmas cards were pouring in and Mom mentioned many times that she couldn't believe that so many cared about her. She had been alone for so long.
We live in a small rural community where everyone knows everyone else. I feel blessed that my Mom is surrounded by people who love her so much. My co-workers asked about her daily. I know that their thoughts and prayers are with us.
Chemo #4
Tuesday, December 18 - Mother was not able to take her chemotherapy treatment again today. It was her platelets that were the problem today. The white-blood count was good, but the platelets were not cooperating. Her next chemo was scheduled for Christmas Eve, and I would be able to take her to that appointment because school was out for Christmas break. I looked forward to going with her.
I had avoided doing too much research into the treatment thus far. I was afraid to know too much. I just needed to stay as positive as possible. I refused to let anything dampen my resolve to be strong for my Mom. I had a new found "Bring It On" attitude that gave me strength since her diagnosis. I found myself reading other survivors blog posts and thus began my own. I started purchasing breast cancer gifts for my daughters and myself for Christmas. I was determined that my Mom; too, would survive this.
I had avoided doing too much research into the treatment thus far. I was afraid to know too much. I just needed to stay as positive as possible. I refused to let anything dampen my resolve to be strong for my Mom. I had a new found "Bring It On" attitude that gave me strength since her diagnosis. I found myself reading other survivors blog posts and thus began my own. I started purchasing breast cancer gifts for my daughters and myself for Christmas. I was determined that my Mom; too, would survive this.
Monday Morning
Monday, December 17 - My Mom was scheduled to work today. She described combing out comb fulls of hair that morning. It took her thirty extra minutes to put on her make-up and wig. She headed out to work determined to tackle the day.
My sister sent me a text during the school day to tell me that Mom had stopped by her office before work. Mom was so excited to show my sister her new make-up and wig. She had received several compliments already from people who asked her where she gotten her hair done. These people had no idea what it was about her that had changed. These strangers had no idea that her hair was almost completely gone. Mom was enjoying the compliments. She had a new found confidence during this troubling time. Mom later told Brandy and I that "maybe someday she would become a model". LOL!
That phone call made my day. Mom was feeling good and somehow knew that Brandy and I not only had done something special for Mom, but we had our own memory of a happy time that we would never forget. I showed my daughter the text message from my sister and she beamed. I felt blessed to have such wonderful daughters and a Mother whom I loved so much.
My sister sent me a text during the school day to tell me that Mom had stopped by her office before work. Mom was so excited to show my sister her new make-up and wig. She had received several compliments already from people who asked her where she gotten her hair done. These people had no idea what it was about her that had changed. These strangers had no idea that her hair was almost completely gone. Mom was enjoying the compliments. She had a new found confidence during this troubling time. Mom later told Brandy and I that "maybe someday she would become a model". LOL!
That phone call made my day. Mom was feeling good and somehow knew that Brandy and I not only had done something special for Mom, but we had our own memory of a happy time that we would never forget. I showed my daughter the text message from my sister and she beamed. I felt blessed to have such wonderful daughters and a Mother whom I loved so much.
Mammy's Day of Beauty
We debated all kinds of brands, colors, and kinds of make-up. Brandy and I had never had so much fun shopping in the cosmetic department. I didn't realize how much it costs to purchase all new makeup. Brandy spent $43.00 and said, "she better wear this stuff, or I'm gonna be mad".
We headed down to my Mom's house for her "day of beauty." I worried how my youngest daughter was being affected by my mom's diagnosis. Brandy spent many nights during weekends and holidays down at my Mom's house for sleep-overs prior to Mom's diagnosis, but since she seemed reluctant to stay overnight. She was worried what her grandmother would look like with no hair. I hoped that this would help both of them deal with their fears.
The three of us found ourselves sitting around the kitchen table with a folding make-up mirror applying make-up. Brandy (thirteen) insisted that she would give Mammy make-up lessons. She introduced every type of make-up with a fancy handwave and gave step-by-step instructions on the application process. Often taking the make-up from my Mom and applying it to her own face. It was a riot and I knew this moment too was priceless.
Finally, we pulled out the three different wigs that my mom had received as donations from the American Cancer Association. Brandy helped her Grandmother with each wig. She critiqued the pros and cons of each one and named each wig in the process. She was determined to "decorate" the Styrofoam head forms. The next thing I knew, Brandy was trying on the wigs herself. The two of them were adorable. We decided that "Angeline" was the best wig. I photographed every step of the way, and sent picture messages to my older daughter who was out of town. She called my Mom's house phone and made my mom's day when she told her how great she looked with her new make-up and wig. My mom insisted that she wasn't ready to shave the remaining hair she had. I think she still somehow believed that it would not completely fall out.
Brandy and I left my Mom's house later that evening both feeling happy and hopeful. What a great day and a beautiful memory.
Meghan's Graduation
My Mom rode with us during the four hour trip. I noticed that she had to stop more often at rest stops. I saw that her hair was falling out. Hairs littered her white sweater and I found myself constantly brushing them off of her clothes. I knew the hair loss had begun. My mom noticed it too. We would not let this spoil our day.
The day went perfectly and we all went out to eat afterward. Each one of us knew that his was a special moment that we would later cherish. I took pictures like crazy. Suddenly I had the need to document everything in my life.
Chemo #3
Tuesday, December 11 - Today s chemotherapy treatment was cancelled. My mom's white-blood count was too low. As a colleague at worked had pointed out, this might be a blessing. My niece would be graduating from Missouri University with honors on Friday. Meghan would be giving the student speech for the School of Business. We were extremely proud of her and would all be traveling to Columbia, Missouri together for the event. Our family had been planning this for months - prior to my Mom's diagnosis. My Mom had been feeling great thus far. Maybe the missed treatment was a blessing in that she might feel better for the trip.
The one thing I was confident of; God had blessed us thus far with many days of feeling well, no hair loss, and other that the diagnosis that hung over our heads, no real change from our routine day to day.
The one thing I was confident of; God had blessed us thus far with many days of feeling well, no hair loss, and other that the diagnosis that hung over our heads, no real change from our routine day to day.
Chemo #2
Tuesday, December 4 - Mom drove herself to her chemotherapy treatment approximately fifty miles from her home. She insisted on going alone so that my sister and I would not have to miss work. I knew rationally that this would be best. As a teacher, I hate the days when I have to get a substitute. My students miss out on so much, and I was gone two days the week before. Middle/High school students tend to have a "hay-day" with a sub.
Mom had left the last appointment feeling great. She had not experienced any sickness or side effects as of yet, and I was thankful that she was doing so well. Again she enjoyed socializing with the people who surrounded her. I checked with her before she left and she called me when she got back home. So far, so good!
Mom had left the last appointment feeling great. She had not experienced any sickness or side effects as of yet, and I was thankful that she was doing so well. Again she enjoyed socializing with the people who surrounded her. I checked with her before she left and she called me when she got back home. So far, so good!
First Chemotherapy Visit
Wednesday, November 28 - My Mom and I set out on our long commute to the Cancer Clinic early. A nurse had told us that volunteers from the Cancer Association had a "Wig Room" available for patients who would be loosing their hair due to chemotherapy. I was determined that my Mom would be prepared for that day when her hair began to fall out. Mom was hanging on to the doctors words that sometimes the patient did not loose their hair. My "expect the worse - hope for the best" attitude told me that she probably wouldn't get that lucky.
The gentleman who served as a volunteer that particular day was so friendly and helpful. His particular cancer was in remission and he volunteered several days per week. He led the way to the wig room. This was a wonderful service, as I understood, women donate wigs to the association and patients can choose one for free. Mom sat at a dressing table and began trying on various wigs. We had fun trying different colors and styles. The Cancer Association volunteer also gave her three handmade stocking caps and care products for the wig. I felt empowered, at least Moms hair loss wouldn't leave her totally helpless.
The chemotherapy room was amazing. Each of the patients had their own comfortable reclining leather chair. A moveable arm with a television set allowed patients to watch TV while they waited for the four hour drip of chemo medications to enter their bodies. Their was food for the patients, a refrigerator, a microwave, and bathrooms in close proximity to the chairs. Family members and friends were very welcome to sit and wait with the patient. I noticed that everyone had someone their for support. The nurses were very caring, they answered all of my questions willingly, and talked to my Mom every step of the way.
Cancer is the ultimate equalizer. One of the first things I noticed was that suddenly everyone in that room had something in common that somehow linked them. People from all economic classes, all races, and all genders sat and visited. All smiling and cheerful. These were people that probably would not have communicated prior to their meeting in this room. The room gave me a feeling of love and support and I found myself talking to relatives and patients who sat close-by. This too lightened my spirit. I could feel the hope of the people who surrounded me.
The gentleman who served as a volunteer that particular day was so friendly and helpful. His particular cancer was in remission and he volunteered several days per week. He led the way to the wig room. This was a wonderful service, as I understood, women donate wigs to the association and patients can choose one for free. Mom sat at a dressing table and began trying on various wigs. We had fun trying different colors and styles. The Cancer Association volunteer also gave her three handmade stocking caps and care products for the wig. I felt empowered, at least Moms hair loss wouldn't leave her totally helpless.
The chemotherapy room was amazing. Each of the patients had their own comfortable reclining leather chair. A moveable arm with a television set allowed patients to watch TV while they waited for the four hour drip of chemo medications to enter their bodies. Their was food for the patients, a refrigerator, a microwave, and bathrooms in close proximity to the chairs. Family members and friends were very welcome to sit and wait with the patient. I noticed that everyone had someone their for support. The nurses were very caring, they answered all of my questions willingly, and talked to my Mom every step of the way.
Cancer is the ultimate equalizer. One of the first things I noticed was that suddenly everyone in that room had something in common that somehow linked them. People from all economic classes, all races, and all genders sat and visited. All smiling and cheerful. These were people that probably would not have communicated prior to their meeting in this room. The room gave me a feeling of love and support and I found myself talking to relatives and patients who sat close-by. This too lightened my spirit. I could feel the hope of the people who surrounded me.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Consultation
Monday, November 26 - Reality finally struck home after my college age daughter headed back to college, the teenager headed back to high school, and my husband left for work. I had taken the day off so that I could take my Mom to the consultation with the Oncologist. We were to discuss the results of all of the testing and plan for the course of treatment ahead. I was getting ready alone at home and the tears finally started flowing. I cried and cried. I couldn't stop crying. I called my husband who couldn't understand my babbling on the phone but explained to me that this was bound to happen and I just needed to cry and get it out before I picked up my Mom.
Isn't it funny how strong a Mom can be in front of her kids. I finally appreciated all of the strength my own Mom had always shown. I had rarely witnessed her breaking down as I was at this moment. Yet, she had endured so much to raise my sister and I alone. Thinking of this just made me cry harder. Luckily I had plenty of time to get ready, and thank goodness the girls were not there to see me. They had had their moments of non-stop tears over the Thanksgiving holiday where I would sit with them and hold them and soothe them as they cried. Now, it was my turn. I managed to get myself together in time to pick my Mom up. Once again I found the strength from somewhere to face the day. I was ready for the Oncologist to give us the news. I felt ready to deal with it whatever it might be. I knew I would have to be strong for my Mom's sake.
The Bad news: Invasive Ductal Carcinoma the Cancer had reached the lymph nodes under the arm but there was no way of knowing how many lymph nodes until after the chemotherapy. The doctor would know this after doing the mastectomy.
The Good News: The Cancer had not spread to any other organs and was not detected in the bones.
I believe this was a true blessing. I had anticipated the Cancer to have spread much more extensively. I found in relief in the prognosis the doctor gave my Mom. The Chemotherapy would be given 1x per week for 12 weeks along with two other medications at different weekly intervals. The Mastectomy would follow the Chemotherapy when the doctors were sure they had stopped the spreading and contained the cancerous cells. Radiation would follow this. It was going to be a long road, but there was hope. This was something we could face.
I got copies of all of the results including numbers on acronyms that I knew nothing about, but have never had the heart to look up all of these details. I have hope now and I need to keep it. Worrying will not help my Mom. She is relying on my Sister and I to be strong now when she needs us. I will be just as strong for her as she has always been for me. I have had a great role-model.
Monday, December 17, 2012
The Hospital
Friday, November 23, 2012 - My family had highly been anticipating this day. This is the day that the doctors would insert a portal cast and begin testing to see just how extensive the cancer was. My Mom, my sister, her two daughters, and I left our homes at 5:00am to drive the hour and a half to the hospital. My mother was scheduled as the second procedure of the day.
Personally, I felt relieved. I am a "take the bull by the horns" kind of a person. And being the eternal pessimist, I had thoroughly researched the worst possible scenarios. I was prepared to face the worst and knew that I would have to have the strength to support those light-weight optimists around me. It is funny how different people deal with the crisis in their lives. My mom has always viewed me as the fragile one. I think because I am such an emotional person. I love with all my heart and also mourn with all of my heart. There really is no middle ground for me. However, when push comes to shove, that is where the my heritage and Irish spirit comes out. I am the first to rise to the occasion and at least put on the appearance of strenghth to those who surround me. I had not shed a tear -not yet. I was the pillar of strength for my own two daughters who had both had emotional breakdowns and shed many many tears over that long week
My mom and I both know that it is my sister who is the rock, optimistic yes, but a problem solver...logical, methodical, and decisive. My sister; ironically the younger of the two of us, is someone that people "don't want to mess with". If anyone could handle doctors, nurses, and decisions, it is my sister. She has never really told me what the week was like at her house and I can only imagine that it was very much like mine. The longest week of our lives.
I believed my sister was in total denial that morning. She was still under the assumption that everything would turn out fine, and I think she was actually hoping the doctors would tell us it was all some big mistake. My nieces were quiet consumed by their own thoughts and distracted by their iPhones and iPods. I had refused to let my own daughters come. I felt that the waiting would be too much stress. I also felt the need to shelter them from what I wasn't sure was about to happen. My mother was quiet and we talked about everything but what was about to happen on the long drive to the city.
The day after a holiday is an interesting one, to say the least, at a hospital. It seems that the most competent people have the luxury of taking the holiday off, and the people who remain are the "worker bees" who don't seem to know the technical details, but rather are focused on putting in their time and earning their paycheck. From the moment we entered the hospital, we were faced with obstacles. People who were not quiet sure of what was to happen, doctor's orders that were temporatily unavailable because the secretary was on vacation, and an oncologist who was vacationing out of the courtry and impossible to reach. The scheduled 7:00 AM insertion was delayed because of an emergency appendectomy. Finally sometime after 10:00 AM my Mom finally left the pre-surgery area for her own procedure. Needless to say, our nerves were wracked, our emotions were high, and tempers were being tested. But deep down, I knew that these good people, who chose to work over this holiday, were just doing the best that they could do to make us comfortable and to assure us.
Our little family headed down to the waiting room. Hospital waiting rooms are very interesting places indeed. People, who are facing God only knows what, sit and wait on news - some look relieved, and others are very emotional, their worry lines evident, but all facing a new chapter to their lives. And, at this time of year, with holiday decorations and Christmas music streaming over the intercom, all seeming not to notice that this was indeed the holiday season for normal people whose lives were not being affected by events that had lead their loved ones to be admitted to a hospital.
My sister and I sat and discussed the what if's as we waited. We both felt the need to have a plan.
Finally, during the afternoon, the portal cast was inserted and my mom was back to her private room. We were all ready for the next stage of testing to begin. All of us were scared, and we all were doing our best to be strong. There were no tears - not yet... If there is one thing the women in my life know, it is how to be strong. We have faced many challenges throughout our lives, always together, always with the support of other women, and always with strength and courage.
As the day came to a close that evening, we said good-bye to our Mother (Grandmother). We had a long drive back home. My sister would return the following day to pick my mom up. There would be no results from the testing - not yet. I would be designated to miss work the following week to hear verdicts, gather as much information as I could, and to begin the chemotherapy.
Personally, I felt relieved. I am a "take the bull by the horns" kind of a person. And being the eternal pessimist, I had thoroughly researched the worst possible scenarios. I was prepared to face the worst and knew that I would have to have the strength to support those light-weight optimists around me. It is funny how different people deal with the crisis in their lives. My mom has always viewed me as the fragile one. I think because I am such an emotional person. I love with all my heart and also mourn with all of my heart. There really is no middle ground for me. However, when push comes to shove, that is where the my heritage and Irish spirit comes out. I am the first to rise to the occasion and at least put on the appearance of strenghth to those who surround me. I had not shed a tear -not yet. I was the pillar of strength for my own two daughters who had both had emotional breakdowns and shed many many tears over that long week
My mom and I both know that it is my sister who is the rock, optimistic yes, but a problem solver...logical, methodical, and decisive. My sister; ironically the younger of the two of us, is someone that people "don't want to mess with". If anyone could handle doctors, nurses, and decisions, it is my sister. She has never really told me what the week was like at her house and I can only imagine that it was very much like mine. The longest week of our lives.
I believed my sister was in total denial that morning. She was still under the assumption that everything would turn out fine, and I think she was actually hoping the doctors would tell us it was all some big mistake. My nieces were quiet consumed by their own thoughts and distracted by their iPhones and iPods. I had refused to let my own daughters come. I felt that the waiting would be too much stress. I also felt the need to shelter them from what I wasn't sure was about to happen. My mother was quiet and we talked about everything but what was about to happen on the long drive to the city.
The day after a holiday is an interesting one, to say the least, at a hospital. It seems that the most competent people have the luxury of taking the holiday off, and the people who remain are the "worker bees" who don't seem to know the technical details, but rather are focused on putting in their time and earning their paycheck. From the moment we entered the hospital, we were faced with obstacles. People who were not quiet sure of what was to happen, doctor's orders that were temporatily unavailable because the secretary was on vacation, and an oncologist who was vacationing out of the courtry and impossible to reach. The scheduled 7:00 AM insertion was delayed because of an emergency appendectomy. Finally sometime after 10:00 AM my Mom finally left the pre-surgery area for her own procedure. Needless to say, our nerves were wracked, our emotions were high, and tempers were being tested. But deep down, I knew that these good people, who chose to work over this holiday, were just doing the best that they could do to make us comfortable and to assure us.
Our little family headed down to the waiting room. Hospital waiting rooms are very interesting places indeed. People, who are facing God only knows what, sit and wait on news - some look relieved, and others are very emotional, their worry lines evident, but all facing a new chapter to their lives. And, at this time of year, with holiday decorations and Christmas music streaming over the intercom, all seeming not to notice that this was indeed the holiday season for normal people whose lives were not being affected by events that had lead their loved ones to be admitted to a hospital.
My sister and I sat and discussed the what if's as we waited. We both felt the need to have a plan.
Finally, during the afternoon, the portal cast was inserted and my mom was back to her private room. We were all ready for the next stage of testing to begin. All of us were scared, and we all were doing our best to be strong. There were no tears - not yet... If there is one thing the women in my life know, it is how to be strong. We have faced many challenges throughout our lives, always together, always with the support of other women, and always with strength and courage.
As the day came to a close that evening, we said good-bye to our Mother (Grandmother). We had a long drive back home. My sister would return the following day to pick my mom up. There would be no results from the testing - not yet. I would be designated to miss work the following week to hear verdicts, gather as much information as I could, and to begin the chemotherapy.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Thanksgiving
Letting It Sink In
Wednesday, November 21 - My daughters and I went to my Mom's house to
spend the day with her. Mom finally showed me the lump. I will never
forget how it looked. Strange to say the least. There was no red, sore
looking, or oozing mass, nothing that appeared to be life threatening at
least at the moment. Rather a swelled place on the top of her breast.
Some places surrounding the swelling were pulled tight. The skin over
the swelled area looked dimpled and I could see exactly what the doctor
meant by an "orange peel appearance". The skin was completely normal
looking; however, not even pink. Being a teacher, I had spent hours the
hours prior researching inflammatory breast cancer and understood
little but believed this was somehow a good sign.
Impact of the News
Monday, November 19, 2012, began one of the longest weeks of my life. As I sat unsuspecting in my classroom, my mother was dealing with the prospect that she might be have cancer a hundred miles away in a doctors office. As unsuspecting as I was, when I saw a phone call from my sister during my school day I knew something "big" was up. She never interrupts my day of teaching unless it is something that needs my immediate attention, and the few times this has happened, involved something traumatic with one of my family members.
When I heard the possibility of something suspicious on my Mom's breast I reacted just as my sister knew I would. I, the eternal pessimist, believe in expecting the worse and hoping for the best. My husband tells me that this is the definition of a pessimist. I like to think of myself as prepared. My sister, the eternal optimist, said that we shouldn't worry and reminded me of the previous scares that proved to be nothing. She assured me that our college age girls could travel with my mom to the city and the follow-up visit the next day. After all, we hoped the diagnosis from the biopsy would show some benign mass.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012 was an extremely long day. I was to lead a meeting after school. All day, in spite of the cell phone policy in my classroom, I kept my phone handy. I explained to my students that I would need to read texts occasionally and that it was necessary not indulgent. My daughter and my niece kept me up to date throughout the meeting. My daughter sat quietly and text-ed me the words that she could not have fully comprehended. My niece asked questions and recorded the doctors entire conversation so that we could listen to it later and analyze the news more completely.
I remember texting back things like, "well that isn't so, bad is it", and "Wait! What does he mean?". Hind- sight being 20/20, I know now that I should not have missed this meeting. After all, this was news that would change the course of our lives completely. The lumpectomy and the insertion of a portal cast was set for Friday, November 23, 2012. The day following Thanksgiving.
When I heard the possibility of something suspicious on my Mom's breast I reacted just as my sister knew I would. I, the eternal pessimist, believe in expecting the worse and hoping for the best. My husband tells me that this is the definition of a pessimist. I like to think of myself as prepared. My sister, the eternal optimist, said that we shouldn't worry and reminded me of the previous scares that proved to be nothing. She assured me that our college age girls could travel with my mom to the city and the follow-up visit the next day. After all, we hoped the diagnosis from the biopsy would show some benign mass.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012 was an extremely long day. I was to lead a meeting after school. All day, in spite of the cell phone policy in my classroom, I kept my phone handy. I explained to my students that I would need to read texts occasionally and that it was necessary not indulgent. My daughter and my niece kept me up to date throughout the meeting. My daughter sat quietly and text-ed me the words that she could not have fully comprehended. My niece asked questions and recorded the doctors entire conversation so that we could listen to it later and analyze the news more completely.
I remember texting back things like, "well that isn't so, bad is it", and "Wait! What does he mean?". Hind- sight being 20/20, I know now that I should not have missed this meeting. After all, this was news that would change the course of our lives completely. The lumpectomy and the insertion of a portal cast was set for Friday, November 23, 2012. The day following Thanksgiving.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Diagnosis
My mother went to her three month routine check-up with the same oncologist who had recommended the hormone therapy medication after her 2011 mass was removed on October 11, 2012. The doctor was on vacation and therefore my mom saw his nurse practitioner. She had a thorough exam and the nurse practitioner found no areas of concern and scheduled the next routine appointment for three months later.
One month later, November 26, 2012, my mom went for her yearly exam with the doctor who removed the 2011 mass. I was at school teaching and had even forgotten that my mom would be going to an appointment that day. I expected nothing out of he ordinary and was very shocked when my sister called me at school to tell me that the doctor was concerned about something unusual that he saw in Mom's breast. The doctor wanted to do a biopsy immediately. Within hours my mom had a needle biopsy to examine the tissue, right there in the doctor's office. He recommended that my mom see the oncologist the following day, and assured my mom that he would have the results from the biopsy faxed to the oncologist by the next afternoon.
My mom returned to the oncologist on the following day to hear the results of the biopsy. I would have trouble getting a substitute on such a short notice and my sister was also tied up at work. Mom had experienced scares before, and assured us that it would really be "no big deal", and that there was nothing to be concerned about. Our daughters were home from college and they went with my mom the following day. My sister and I at least had the foresight to know that mom should not get any news completely alone. But, we questioned that this was an awful burden to place on their young heads should the news be bad.
The Oncologist diagnosed my mom with Stage 3 Inflammatory Breast Cancer. He classified it as "very aggressive" in that it had appeared to have grown so rapidly where there was no sign of anything amiss four weeks earlier. The Oncologist ordered that she be hospitalized for testing and the insertion of a portal-cast on that same Friday, November 30; the day following Thanksgiving.
One month later, November 26, 2012, my mom went for her yearly exam with the doctor who removed the 2011 mass. I was at school teaching and had even forgotten that my mom would be going to an appointment that day. I expected nothing out of he ordinary and was very shocked when my sister called me at school to tell me that the doctor was concerned about something unusual that he saw in Mom's breast. The doctor wanted to do a biopsy immediately. Within hours my mom had a needle biopsy to examine the tissue, right there in the doctor's office. He recommended that my mom see the oncologist the following day, and assured my mom that he would have the results from the biopsy faxed to the oncologist by the next afternoon.
My mom returned to the oncologist on the following day to hear the results of the biopsy. I would have trouble getting a substitute on such a short notice and my sister was also tied up at work. Mom had experienced scares before, and assured us that it would really be "no big deal", and that there was nothing to be concerned about. Our daughters were home from college and they went with my mom the following day. My sister and I at least had the foresight to know that mom should not get any news completely alone. But, we questioned that this was an awful burden to place on their young heads should the news be bad.
The Oncologist diagnosed my mom with Stage 3 Inflammatory Breast Cancer. He classified it as "very aggressive" in that it had appeared to have grown so rapidly where there was no sign of anything amiss four weeks earlier. The Oncologist ordered that she be hospitalized for testing and the insertion of a portal-cast on that same Friday, November 30; the day following Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Cancer strikes again!
My mother experienced cancer a second time when her younger brother passed away in 1995 with intestinal cancer. And once again in 1997, when her father died from colon cancer.
Mom had her own near misses; in 1994 she had a total hysterectomy to remove fibroid tumors, and in 2000 when she had to have one of her kidneys removed because of a benign mass.
Needless to say, the big "C" sends fear throughout our family. We have spent endless hours in hospital waiting rooms preparing ourselves to hear the diagnosis of a family member. We have watched the clock and waited for nurses to call us back to a conference room to speak with a doctor. Somehow though my mom always managed to get the best news, and our fears would turn out to be unfounded.
So in 2010 when a Stage 1 tumor in her breast was removed, we were confident that the hormone therapy drug she was to take for a period of five years would prevent any new cells from returning. The doctors assured us that if she kept her appointments every three months there would be nothing to worry about. My sister and I were confident that our Mother had once again dogged the bullet.
That is until her routine check-up this November.....
Mom had her own near misses; in 1994 she had a total hysterectomy to remove fibroid tumors, and in 2000 when she had to have one of her kidneys removed because of a benign mass.
Needless to say, the big "C" sends fear throughout our family. We have spent endless hours in hospital waiting rooms preparing ourselves to hear the diagnosis of a family member. We have watched the clock and waited for nurses to call us back to a conference room to speak with a doctor. Somehow though my mom always managed to get the best news, and our fears would turn out to be unfounded.
So in 2010 when a Stage 1 tumor in her breast was removed, we were confident that the hormone therapy drug she was to take for a period of five years would prevent any new cells from returning. The doctors assured us that if she kept her appointments every three months there would be nothing to worry about. My sister and I were confident that our Mother had once again dogged the bullet.
That is until her routine check-up this November.....
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
First Encounter - Cancer
My mother was introduced to Cancer in 1965. She was a newly married mother with two small babies when my father was diagnosed with a terminal cancer at the base of his brain. The tumor was inoperable. It caused migraine headaches and blurred vision. My father was 24 years old with a wife and two daughters, both under the age of two, The tumor caused extreme pain and it made his tolerance low. I remember my mother always working around the house. My mom was the one who was always there to provide discipline, love, and support. A presence in every memory. The rock that held our shaky foundation together.
My father outlived his year prognosis and battled the cancer that grew at the base of his skull for five years. He died on Thanksgiving evening; November, 1970, one month before his 30th birthday. My mother was 28, I was 6 and my sister was 5. The few memories I have of my father are vivid involving both extreme happiness and sadness; not the day to day living that we must have done.
My mother worked at a factory throughout my life. Five days and forty hours+ every week. She never had a day off, she never missed for sickness; either hers or ours. She made the money that supported us. I can never remember wanting for anything.
Within a year of my father's death, my mother bought a trailer and moved us to my grandparents farm and that is where we grew up. The farm is where our memories were made, under the watchful, loving eyes of my Grandpa and Grandma we survived our first encounter with Cancer.
My father outlived his year prognosis and battled the cancer that grew at the base of his skull for five years. He died on Thanksgiving evening; November, 1970, one month before his 30th birthday. My mother was 28, I was 6 and my sister was 5. The few memories I have of my father are vivid involving both extreme happiness and sadness; not the day to day living that we must have done.
My mother worked at a factory throughout my life. Five days and forty hours+ every week. She never had a day off, she never missed for sickness; either hers or ours. She made the money that supported us. I can never remember wanting for anything.
Within a year of my father's death, my mother bought a trailer and moved us to my grandparents farm and that is where we grew up. The farm is where our memories were made, under the watchful, loving eyes of my Grandpa and Grandma we survived our first encounter with Cancer.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)