Together with my father's input, my mom chose not to have any cancer treatment, just as all of her doctors recommended. There would be no further tests: no Pet scans; no MRI's; no CT scans; no chemo; no radiation. I don't know for sure but I suspect Mom's decision has given her perhaps a longer and better quality of life. It's well documented that cancer treatment is often far worse than the disease itself. Of course, if there had been hope for a cure or a longer extension of (good) life, her choice might have been different.
'Letting nature take its course' has been a small but treasured gift. My mom has never been sick from any cancer treatments. She has never lost a single strand of hair. Until late September, she never even took a single pain pill! She's been able to go places and do some of the things that she's wanted to do. She reads for enjoyment and eats fairly well, especially food from her favorite Mexican restaurant! She enjoys watching the colorful array of birds outside her window splashing in their bath during the mornings and sometimes in the afternoon. She likes mystery shows on television and listening to Frank Sinatra music. She talks and sometimes laughs with her grown children and seven grandchildren on the phone. She visits for a short time with family and friends. She reads her Bible diligently every day. She lives.
Mom's biggest obstacle is her breathing. The lung cancer has severely compromised it. Every breath my mother takes is a struggle that consistently gets worse with each passing day. She is on oxygen 24/7 with breathing treatments at regular intervals. The time between them gets shorter each week, sometimes each day. Although my mother's health has steadily deteriorated she still fights. She still wants to live.
In the beginning I was told that Mom had only four to six months left to live: devastating news for the entire family. Although doctors are not God it is now near the end of that time frame. I know that Mom's life here on earth is closing in far too fast.
I often wonder if is better to know (approximately) when your life will end, or to live on without ever knowing? For my mother I think it's been both a blessing and a curse. On one hand Mom has been able to make amends, become closer to my father, enjoy some of the the little things in life, and plan for her demise. On the other hand, she's scared (appropriately so) and is not ready to go. Her nerves torment her and she lives each day with horrible anxiety. How I wish I could make things easier for her!
I remember and think often of our last Mother's Day together. We all gathered at my parent's house where Mom was ecstatic to be home from the hospital in spite of her diagnosis. Together with all of my siblings, I went through the motions of trying to make everything seem normal. The house was filled with love, good food, and even a little laughter. Still, there was nothing 'normal' about this Mother's Day.
Right after dinner Mom bent down, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to leave all of you." she cried out. I could feel my eyes brimming with saltwater tears. My heart overflowed with tremendous pain. What could I possibly say to her?
"I can't imagine what you are going through, Mom," I quietly said, wrapping my arms around her. "I can't begin to imagine how it must feel to know that you are dying."
Since Mom's diagnosis, I've made many trips back to help out and visit with my parents. Today, I feel closer than ever to her than ever before. It's as our our previous slate in life has been wiped clean. I try to fly back about every three to four weeks to see my parents. I like to stay seven to ten days at a time. Since I work from home, I'm lucky that I can do that. Often, I take my work with me. It's all in my computer.
My sister Brenda tries to meet me at my parents whenever possible. Upon arrival, we have a great knack for knowing what needs to be done without ever saying a word to each other. Typically, we tackle different tasks. Among them: cleaning the house; doing laundry; grocery shopping; cooking meals; purchasing medical equipment; picking up prescriptions; calling for services (to help Mom & Dad after we must leave).
In between the above we visit our Mother in the hospital (she's been back twice) or help to take care of her if she is at home. It's an exhausting privilege. Dad is always so very happy to see us and extremely thankful whenever we are there. He enjoys our company tremendously and gets a rare but much needed break from being Mom's main caretaker. We do all we can to 'lighten his load.'
Together with our other three sisters and brothers, we automatically assume our own positions on the team: Brenda and I are the taskmasters; David takes time to visit, delivers take-out food and often pays for the check; Daniel visits whenever he can, picks up Mom's favorite lemon meringue pie from 'Marie Callenders,' and tries to see that we get needed rides to (and from) the airport; Kellie has visited from South Dakota and sometimes calls. But regardless of how well we think everything is figured out, the situation is never perfect. It takes a toll. There have been times at night when I've crawled into bed with my younger sister sobbing. She is there to comfort me as I am there to comfort her. We forever find ourselves taking turns.
I think the hardest part for me is living so far away from my parents. I can't help them in all the ways that I way want to. I have my own life with a husband and children (grown or not) who need me. My soul is torn. My siblings feel much the same way. We all have other lives that must be lived. Still, I am haunted. How does my dad manage when no one is there to help him?
Physically, I want to be there each and every day but I can't. As it is, whenever I return home I am emotionally exhausted. I genuinely feel ill for several days before I am back to my own 'normal' self. My husband, Gary is so very supportive. "Go for as long as you want or need," he often says, encouragingly. I thank him but I know this is very hard on him, too.
Recently, I reserved a ticket to go back again on the twelfth of November. I plan on staying for nearly three weeks this time. My oldest son, Jayson and his wife, Nichole will go with me, staying for just a day or two. In spite of her not wanting her grandchildren to see her, Jayson can't bare the thought of not seeing his Grandmother 'one last time.' Gary will join me on November 21st so that we can celebrate Thanksgiving together with my parents and two brothers. I hope and pray that my mom is still with us to enjoy this special time together.
I talk to my mother nearly every day on the phone. Lately, she only seems to have bad days or worse days; rarely a 'good' day. Her voice is weakening and she struggles to speak. Still, she is looking forward to my visit and retains her will to live. My sister is coming in too. Together we will put up our parents Christmas tree. Mom is looking forward to us helping her decorate it.
How very difficult this holiday season will be. I only hope we get to share it with each other.
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