It is a sad, scary and frustrating day when you realize your parents are mortal. Most people will lose their parents in their lifetimes, if you don't then you are even less fortunate to pass before they do. I always envisioned my parents living well into their 90s, as most of our family does.
The diagnosis isn't immediate. I am at work when my mother sees her GYN. They do ultrasounds. Not comforting. They do a CT scan. Less comforting. I hear the word "mass" used. I am getting very concerned. I have trouble concentrating at work. Whatever it is, has to come out. Her surgery is scheduled. I have good days and bad, I cry, and I feel at times that everything is fine. We await her operation.
That day my father brings her in. I decided to clean her kitchen, which hasn't seen a good cleaning I'm sure since they moved in. I am scrubbing to keep my mind off things. 4-5 hour surgery, they say, longer, if something is wrong. She goes in at 7 am. By 12 pm, I stop cleaning. I call my poor father over and over. He hasn't heard anything. I can feel the pain in his voice. This isn't good news. Finally, my Dad calls me. I am bending over the windowsill in our dining room, staring at the plastic apples and berries my mom has in a bowl. "It is cancer". We don't know the extent, it will be another long wait. I hang up, numb. I walk into the living room and give my Nana (my mother's mother) the news. We cry, and hold each other and just try to absorb this, and reject it. I go to the hospital then. My mom doesn't know yet, but she tells me later she did know. I want her to have us there for the news.
So there it is. All my fears coming true. Cancer, in my family, in my mother. It certainly does and doesn't help that I work in a cancer hospital. I begin researching, then I stop. I learn, over time, that no amount of statistics and research will ever predict your outcome. We go to the appointments, the second opinions. My mother has surgery to remove her ovaries, fallopian tubes where the cancer was spreading, her uterus and a couple dozen biopsy sites. The waiting was the most painful time I have ever experienced. I spent three nights in the hospital, sitting in a wooden chair, because I never wanted my mother to wake up in the middle of the night alone, to realize it wasn't all a bad dream. That she is where she is and she has what she has. She was always there for me. My turn. I wouldn't let her be alone, not even for a minute.
She has a bad hospital course. She has pain and can't eat and she vomits a lot. She is weak and sad and pale. I have never seen her like this. Its horrifying, its humbling. I go into dietitian mode and demand supplements and prealbumin levels. She is 10 days in the hospital and not eating, with cancer and after major surgery. She is coping with her diagnosis. Its hard for her, for us. My father is a mess, my sister can't hear the word "mom" without crying. I truly never have, nor will I ever doubt the amazing strength and influence a loving family of support provides.
We get news finally that her lymph nodes are clean. An early stage ovarian cancer. Ovarian cancer is a rare cancer, and because its symptoms are so slight, it is often not diagnosed until it has spread enough to cause symptoms. In my mother's case, it had caused large, fluid filled cysts to develop, which she was able to feel and prompted her to see a doctor. I am so grateful she didn't wait.
She is offered a clinical trial, and is accepted. She is emotionally not well before treatment, but once she started, and realized how well she handled it, her attitude and outlook became very positive. Slowly, as she healed, we were all able to become happy again. Something I thought would never happened again, after I heard the C word. I thought my life was changed forever, and it was, but not in the same way.
There it was. My worst nightmare. And there we were, getting through it. Once your worse fear is realized, it can't hurt you anymore. It frees you. My dark cloud dissipates, and I am happy again. as cliche as it sounds, it does make you appreciate life. I never ignore my mother's calls now, no matter what it's about. I never rush her off the phone. I try to see my parents at least once a week. I listen to their advice more often, and ask for it more. I want it.
I feel love like I never have before, I hug my Di closer. I talk to my sisters even more. I smell the air and make future plans. I care less about my clean house and how much money is in the bank. I decide that for all the reasons we have to put off having more children, none of them is a s important as spending time with your kids. At the end of my life, I want to have had my kids in as much of it as possible. I'm off to a good start. Because, 9 months after my beautiful baby girl is born, I am pregnant.
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