Sad news
It's 3 in the morning and I should be sleeping. But I can't. This afternoon at my mom's radiologist appointment to prep for her future chemo and radiation treatments, our worst fear was confirmed: my mom has Glioblastoma grade 4. From the little research I had done on the day of her surgery to remove the bigger tumor before my dad advised me to stop reading "negative stuff" and we were all hopeful for a better diagnosis (anything BUT glioblastoma!) I can just say that this is not positive news at all.
It is surreal. It is only day One of us all facing the reality of it and letting it sink in (although I had largely suspected it the whole week, but like my dad, was holding my breath for something that was more beatable) and it is already more than I think I can bear. During a time like this, my first impulse would be to call my mom for comfort and wisdom. I can't do that as she is so exhausted from the surgery and the meds; and even if she begins to feel better in the coming days she'll be starting chemo/radiation 5 days a week for 6 weeks and will no doubt be incredibly exhausted.
I find myself whimpering like my toddler daughter, wanting my mom. My heart feels so damn heavy I wonder how I can cope with the coming days.
And then there's my dad and brother. Oh God! The fear and sadness they have to be feeling...I am cringing. We just buried my grandma a month ago which took an already incredible emotional toll on them. We are all thinking: this wasn't supposed to happen. She is supposed to see my daughter grow up, see her future grandchildren be born and enjoy the golden years with my dad.
How much can one man bear?! The year my dad retired in 2011, my then 94 year old grandma was diagnosed with lymphoma. He fought hard to get her well. He was her sole caretaker for the next six years until she died this past February.
And now this.
I realize people all over the world are suffering like this and much worse, since the dawn of time. But it still feels like we are the only ones it is happening to. Perhaps it's something we would never be ready for even if it happened at age 95 instead of 69...But am I allowed to still feel like this is wrong?!
As a believer, I know all the "right" answers-- it's part of His bigger plan (or my own incredibly depressing theory: He is taking all his most faithful ones now; the rest of us get to duke it out here on Earth til it's our turn), etc. But right now none are comforting me. Not at all. I want to curl up in my mommy's warm, soft embrace and feel her kiss my head and hum me to sleep.
I always thought that when I became the mommy, I would no longer feel that need for myself. How wrong I was.
Exactly two weeks ago, my parents were here having fun with Maddie. The next evening my mom was in the hospital and our lives changed. My heart weeps to think that perhaps that visit might have been the last happy, care-free one we will all have together.
Some would say I'm getting ahead of myself, yes. Maybe. I'm a natural pessimist, I admit. I'd rather let reality sink in and feel all the raw, ugly, and painful emotions that come with it. Also, I can't sleep and I'm restless with no solace. So I write.
Even though I may not be in a peaceful spiritual place at this very moment (but I am talking to God...Even though my prayers right now are angry, desperate cries and pleas) I'm still asking and welcoming prayers. What else can anyone do.
That's all.
It is surreal. It is only day One of us all facing the reality of it and letting it sink in (although I had largely suspected it the whole week, but like my dad, was holding my breath for something that was more beatable) and it is already more than I think I can bear. During a time like this, my first impulse would be to call my mom for comfort and wisdom. I can't do that as she is so exhausted from the surgery and the meds; and even if she begins to feel better in the coming days she'll be starting chemo/radiation 5 days a week for 6 weeks and will no doubt be incredibly exhausted.
I find myself whimpering like my toddler daughter, wanting my mom. My heart feels so damn heavy I wonder how I can cope with the coming days.
And then there's my dad and brother. Oh God! The fear and sadness they have to be feeling...I am cringing. We just buried my grandma a month ago which took an already incredible emotional toll on them. We are all thinking: this wasn't supposed to happen. She is supposed to see my daughter grow up, see her future grandchildren be born and enjoy the golden years with my dad.
How much can one man bear?! The year my dad retired in 2011, my then 94 year old grandma was diagnosed with lymphoma. He fought hard to get her well. He was her sole caretaker for the next six years until she died this past February.
And now this.
I realize people all over the world are suffering like this and much worse, since the dawn of time. But it still feels like we are the only ones it is happening to. Perhaps it's something we would never be ready for even if it happened at age 95 instead of 69...But am I allowed to still feel like this is wrong?!
As a believer, I know all the "right" answers-- it's part of His bigger plan (or my own incredibly depressing theory: He is taking all his most faithful ones now; the rest of us get to duke it out here on Earth til it's our turn), etc. But right now none are comforting me. Not at all. I want to curl up in my mommy's warm, soft embrace and feel her kiss my head and hum me to sleep.
I always thought that when I became the mommy, I would no longer feel that need for myself. How wrong I was.
Exactly two weeks ago, my parents were here having fun with Maddie. The next evening my mom was in the hospital and our lives changed. My heart weeps to think that perhaps that visit might have been the last happy, care-free one we will all have together.
Some would say I'm getting ahead of myself, yes. Maybe. I'm a natural pessimist, I admit. I'd rather let reality sink in and feel all the raw, ugly, and painful emotions that come with it. Also, I can't sleep and I'm restless with no solace. So I write.
Even though I may not be in a peaceful spiritual place at this very moment (but I am talking to God...Even though my prayers right now are angry, desperate cries and pleas) I'm still asking and welcoming prayers. What else can anyone do.
That's all.
Comments
I know every cancer is different, and you mom's diagnosis is not a great one (like there IS a good cancer to get), but I wanted to let you know, just to give you hope, that my mom's diagnosis was terrible. She was basically told to get her affairs in order, that she maybe had a few months left to live. However, her family doctor did a bunch of research and found that there were two surgeons in the entire country who specialized in her cancer, and long story short, one of them was able to operate and her cancer is gone. This was back in 2011 - my mom is still thriving today. So as bad as it seems, this may all end up OK. Every patient is different, every cancer is different, and I'm fervently hoping that you get the same great results with your mom that I did with mine.
Sending healing thoughts to your mom; and as for you, my friend, hang in there, do what you need to get through each day, enjoy Maddie, and don't sweat anything that doesn't really matter.
My mom doesn't read my blog (Facebook, on the other hand, is different, so I've been avoiding it) so it felt like a safe place to vent.
Today is a new day and I got a positive, upbeat message from my mom today which helped calm me a little. I know, one day at a time.
Thanks for the encouragement and for letting me know I'm not alone in this feeling.