The Infamous September 22nd & the gift of peace given to my family

Today while I work, I hear the chime of "front door." Nothing unusual there till I start to head to the front and see my mom's car in the window. I had no idea what she could be doing there and then I saw her... tear's streaming down her face. I was mortified. I knew her results were coming in soon to know if she was completely cancer free. She looked at me, eyes all red and said, "Looks like you're stuck with me. How does it feel to have a cancer free mom?" We wrapped our arms around each other and cried and cried. My aunt and my dad came in shortly behind her.

I can't believe it. I mean I kept every ounce of positive I have had left for her. I've been battling my own demons for some time but I REFUSED to let those emotions fall into her positive thoughts needed to get through this. I still feel like it didn't happen, like that was a dream. I'm sure as the days pass and she continues to grow stronger, it will sink in. She's been starting to get on me about things again. I never thought I'd say this but I'm glad she'll be around to nag me for years and years to come :o)

So after all the mushy hugs and loves, I asked her what her plans were for the day, she smiled so big and said, "We're going to Eagle Mtn. Casino!" I just laughed, it's like her own Disneyland.

What a most Wonderful day... such a gift, the gift of health, my mom, love, life, family... just magic for us.

Controlled Cancer

This is what it's called for the 3 months after you finish your treatments of Chemo and Radiation.  Today marks the last day of radiation till September.  She will be tested again, then we get to call it remission :o)

I wanted to blog my FB post to keep in memory.  I didn't blog very much as far as all that we went through.  I won't need to recall posts for the feelings I've had.  I won't forget them ever.  I have learned a lot and am set on a very good path now.  I do need to walk lightly because right now I'm feeling unstoppable and that can be a recipe for disaster.

Mommie, you should be finishing your last radiation right now... I ♥ You.
:::deep, loving sigh:::

I'm Pathetic

Cancer Diaries: Session (Week 2) of Radiation/Chemo/Iron Infusion

Typing those words above, make me wince and want to punch things.  I decided to take the day off to spend it with my mom on her BIG day.  Every Thursday she has to get her Chemo pack switched out, Radiation (well that is daily) and an Iron Infusion (which she is now done with, well for this minute).  She also meets with 2 of her doctors and gets her prescriptions reanalyzed.  It's a big day basically.

I want/need to be apart of what is going on so I wanted to tag along.  I go into things with such an open mind.  I try to not think the worst and keep hope at the forefront of my thoughts.  I arrived to find her already getting her Iron Infusion and resting.  Most people have good spirits and it's comforting to see.  My mom is still and I'm sure will be for a very long time, in an adjustment period.  Her moods are low and I can't say I blame her but it very out of character for her at the same time.  I'm her apple and any of you know how stubborn, determined and tunnel visioned I can be when I have my mind set on something.  I can command a room or sit in a corner to observe.  I don't ask for help, I am asked upon by others for help.  I have drive, a will to fight and an ability to love so very deep and with such passion it almost hurts at times.  These qualities my mom possesses and has bestowed and blessed me with almost seem now like they were passed off to me and not so much handed down now.

I watch her.  A lot.  I see her but it's not her.  This woman is quiet, soft spoken, weakened and at times, very lifeless.  I understand that this process is ridiculously tough.  More than ever now, I've seen how it's dug in and reduced my mom to the shell that she sits in currently.  I want my mom back.  I have to wonder if she will every really be back.  I can tell myself "someday" but there is this inkling of doubt in me that really wonders if someday will ever come.  I'm tucking that thought away, far, far away.  I refuse to let it consume me and push hope aside.

As she walked through the building yesterday and saw the other people going through their treatment, she looked at my aunt and said, 

"I wish I was strong like them.  I'm pathetic."  

My aunt looked at her and said, "WHAT did you JUST say?"

My mom repeated it again and I knew my aunt just wanted to unleash on her.  In a calmer voice than she wanted but still quite stern, she replied," You CAN and ARE just as strong as anyone else here.  You ARE NOT PATHETIC and don't ever say that again."

My mom just sat there quietly.

Now even at this moment, I'm crying.  To feel so defeated, so low, so helpless... that you could utter those words with such intent behind them.  *shakes head* I knew that it would get worse but that small voice she speaks with now... ~speechless~

Mom, someday I may show this to you.  Please know that you were always in my thoughts and I only ever wanted to fix every ounce of pain, every bit of sadness, every negative thing you were feeling, I wish more than anything I could've taken it on myself for you.  I'd have done it mom, as much as I hate needles, doctors, throwing up... I'd have taken it with no hesitation, no reservation.  I love you.  I love us and I'm waiting for the day we can walk the fairway together again.

The Shell

Cancer Diaries - Still adjusting; her-feeding tube, me-seeing her

So I haven't been able to see my mom for about 2 weeks.  I've been sick with this fantastic cold but even better, a cough.  That pretty much put me blocked from seeing my mom at all.  I call to check in but with the past conversations and lack of 'complete' information, I do have to wonder how accurate the information is.  I've been told she is doing better.  She is home now and learning how to function.  My dad, aunt and cousin are at her beck and call.  Oddly enough, she is VERY good about asking for every little thing and they happily run around for her.

She was having some problems with vomiting the day before so when she went to the doctor yesterday they gave her a shot to help ease with the digestion and nausea.  The side effect was Zombie-esque mom last night.  I was on my way in from Taft visiting a friend and decided that I was clear enough to stop by and see her.  As she was happy to see me, it took her a bit to realize I was there.  I got updates while we sat around the living room.

She doesn't look as good as they described or how I imagined her in my head.  I'm not saying she's not better but she is a shell of the mom I know and that makes me want to vomit.  I'm trying to wrap my head around it.  This woman who was strong, assertive, ass-kicking, stubborn as the day is long, determined, carried the weight of everyone in her life... is now this tiny, shell of a woman that only seems to exist in my head.  It's as if I imagined her as a character in one of my stories.  She's down about 17lbs now, watching her at 161 is weird.  I've NEVER seen her under 175 before so that adds to the frail stature she has now become.

I think my being sick gave me an out about not having to deal with seeing her day to day and I'm yet again, left to play "catch up" with my feelings and dealings with what is going on.  I went to gym afterwards and I could feel it all creeping in.  The sadness, oooh this one wasn't going to hide for very long.  I drove around for a little while after gym to try to get some air.  Breathing wasn't so simple as in and out.  Every breath had her name on it.  I was feeling everything that I had missed these past 2 weeks and it hurt.

I got home with the intention of writing this to help me process but that didn't work out.  Tee got home right before I did and in her wonderful, caring fashion, her concern and questions brought it all right to the surface.  I was forced to run out of the office and into the shower to sob alone.  I don't think I was in there very long but it felt like hours.  I came out, still with the intention of writing this but when she walked up behind me to hug me, I lost it, again.  Strange how the touch of another can make you weep without a second thought.  I guess I wasn't as done crying as I thought.  I'm just glad it did all make its way out.

It's going to get harder before it gets easier.  I'm not going to fool myself otherwise.  

6 Word Story: 
Cancer Diaries: 1 day after surgery 

Hope for Her; Faith in Future

Watching my Mom

The Cancer Diaries - 3 days before surgery

I sit here on a bar stool facing the kitchen on Easter Sunday finishing my slice of banana cream pie.  I look up and see my mom washing dishes like she's done so many times before.  This time, however, she looks so different to me.  I notice how she stares out the window in front of her.  Starring off so intensly I have to wonder what she's thinking about.

It's 3 days till her surgery.  The surgery that will tell us the news we've all been waiting to hear for the past 2 weeks.  The news that could change so many lives.

Something inside of me says this is probably the very thing swirling around in her head right now.

This blog may sound bleak but its not at all.  I write these words to serve a purpose, a reminder.  Life is fleeting.  We are born set on a path toward death.  It begins as we take that first breath and scream for life.

Living unhappy, living in pain, living without hope... well that isn't really living now is it?

I watch her now, I look at her with different eyes.  I want to take her fears away.  I want to watch her stand in front of that sink again telling me about her golf game and how she f'd up some putt on the 7th hole.  Listening to her talk about prepping for surgery and my aunt coming in to take care of things sounds so nightmarish.  It's almost incomprehensible but here we sit discussing such informalities.

~Here is your reminder for hope and events that will and need to happen because when it comes down to it, you want to live a passionate life.~