Coping with the Diagnosis

After my sister and I composed ourselves we went into our mother's hospital room trying to look a bit cheery. I'm not sure if it worked or not but she was very happy to see us, despite the incomprehensible news she had just received.

"Do you know what I have?" she asked in a soft, broken voice. "Yes, Mom," we said, cradling her small, shrinking body carefully in our arms. "We saw your doctor out in the hallway." We treaded lightly with any additional information because we weren't sure exactly what her doctor had told her. Did she know her full prognosis? If so, how does one cope with knowing that your life is soon coming to an end? I couldn't even begin to comprehend it.

My sister and I gathered our thoughts, trying to be upbeat for Mom but it was difficult. Somehow, we managed to continue the visit without breaking down. It helped to have the two of us there together. We could support each other and jump in when the other was having a hard time. We spoke about the mundane things I imagine everyone speaks about when a situation like this arises: the weather; news of family; the 'nice' hospital room; the 'gorgeous' view outside her window. It was all so fake.

Later, we were still in Mom's room when the doctor on call came in to check her. She was in pain from the large draining tube sticking out of the left side of her bony chest. He ordered more pain medication. Mom asked him if he knew what she 'had,' and he simply replied, "yes." She went on to ask him his opinion of whether or not she should seek "treatment?" He calmly and quietly discussed what he would recommend if she were "his own" mother or wife, and that was "no."

The doctor believed in letting life take it's natural course (given Mom's prognosis). He went on to explain that she was too frail, and that the cancer was too far advanced for any treatment to help her. In addition, Mom suffered from chronic emphysema and COPD which complicated her lung cancer immensely. If she did seek treatment (it was still HER choice) she may not survive it. Even if she did she probably would be the worse for it.

By the time the doctor left the room a slight calmness and composure had come over Mom. She was very much touched by the spiritual side of the doctor and felt somewhat comfortable with his opinion. In her own way she was already beginning to come to terms with her diagnosis. Of course she wanted to get other opinions before any final decisions were made. We both agreed. We encouraged her to talk to Dad. The two of them needed to make the final decision together, although it would be my mother's final call. It went without saying that we would support any decision that was made. It was Mother's body. It was her life and her choice.