#cancer sucks

Everyone, including my husband/his family are like, “oh no! Betty White died. I’m so sad.” Meanwhile, I’m over here with my siblings like “that sucks. Our mom died of cancer yesterday.”

As I sit across my mothers room as she is being injected with radiation before her pet scan a whole lot of emotions run through my mind. She has fought off breast cancer 3 years ago, had cancer moles removed, had a hysterectomy to assure ovarian cancer would not happen, had cancerous polyps removed during a colonoscopy. She looks scared, tells the nurse all about her grandchildren (my kids) and how proud she is of them. That’s the first time I witnessed her telling a complete stranger how much they make her happy and proud. My mother is a tough woman at times even seems cold but in that moment she is as just a proud grandmother with a will to live to watch them grow up. They just took her away for the pet scan and right when she was out of sight my mask filled up with tears. I held it in all morning, I made small talk about after Christmas sales, how much the gas prices went up I wanted to talk about anything besides what was happening today. Today we will know if there’s any cancerous masses anywhere in her body. Waiting is the worst part. First you wait for the appointment, then you want in the waiting room, then you wait for results, then you wait for treatment, wait to see if it worked. Cancer is one big waiting game. Cancer doesn’t discriminate, could care less if you smoke, drink, do drugs, if you are a good person or an ass. Cancer is determined and sneaky but good luck trying to take on my mom. I pray the scans are clear, for cancer’s sake.

Mother and daughter is the most sacred relationship. It’s fragile, difficult at times, rewarding and special. Or so it should be. My whole life I wanted a close relationship with my mom, I wanted it to be a friendship as I got older. I love my mother, she means the world to me but she can make it very hard at times to want to spend long periods of time with her. Comments about my weigh gain, the outfit I have on, my hair looked better blonde, my shoes were bought at target and all that can be covered in the first 3 minutes. Followed up by how I need to save money and travel through Europe, wear nicer clothes, cut my son’s hair and teach my kids Russian. If you didn’t get it by now my mom is for sure Russian. Growing up I felt loved but I never felt close to her. I never felt comfortable talking about boys or anything I was going though. My mom didn’t just skip over the sex conversation but she also never covered the menstrual cycle topic so when the time came, I was 11 crying inside a clothing store that I was bleeding no idea why. I don’t think she intentionally skipped those topics, I truly think she just didn’t know how to talk about it. I hope my daughter comes to me with problems, boy issues and anything else. I want to be the safe space for her. I know growing up I did not want to open up about a boy I liked I didn’t want to get in trouble or be judged. I felt so alone as a child and I would have to have my kids feel that. Communication is so important when raising kids. I want both kids to always feel like that they call us, talk to us about anything. Now that I am a mother myself I still struggle with the relationship with my mom. To this day I feel judgement, disappointment, lack of support when I talk to her about certain topics and I am that little girl all over again, the one that just wants her mom to be proud. Tomorrow morning I am going with my mom to get her pet scan of her whole body to see if she has cancer in any organs. She fought off breast cancer a few years back and most recently had a cancerous polyp removed which led us here. In situations like this all the hard times that I’ve had with my mother evaporate from my memory and only the good ones remain. The way she used to French braid my hair, the way she would rub my face when I was falling asleep. Her love of thrifting that she has passed on to me. Her inability to not cry to sad movies. Her love for the sun and being tan was also passed on to me. Her apple cake that she bakes at lease once a week. My mother is strong in many ways, the ways that allows her to win arguments, get out of a speeding ticket, get something on sale. But when it comes to Cancer- the strong opinionated woman becomes very small. I have to be her support. I have to keep her positive and not let her break down. She will not fall, she will not fail, she won’t give in, she will only rise!

Dad’s health update: He’s finished the radiation for his brain and started the chemo for everything else. Losing hair, tired, poor appetite (nothing tastes good) but otherwise in good spirits. Going to visit him next month with the kids and my brothers and husband. A real family reunion!

Some optimistic news on my dad’s health front in his own words: Brain Radiation # 8 of 10.  It seems that the plan on the brain radiation is to eliminate the cancerous nodes.  I find that a pleasant surprise.

So do I, Dad, so do I.

There is still other cancer to deal with (esophagus, liver, lungs) and the chemo for that is scheduled to start after the radiation ends (so, next week).

Thanks to everyone who’s reached out to offer me their support and prayers. It means the world to me.

This little quilt was hanging in the exam room where I was waiting to do the paperwork, bloodwork, and EKG, to see if I qualify for an experimental drug study..

I know cancer can take a lot from people. So much of it seems totally out of your control, and a lot of it is. I have been fighting this fight going on 5 years now, so believe me I know. It’s very important to remember that there are a lot of really wonderful things that cancer can’t take from you, unless you let it.

Tomorrow is brain mri and CT scan day. And then it will just be a matter of waiting to hear if I am an acceptable guinea pig .

Bonus pic of Cooper, cuz he’s so danged CUTE!

Cooper, helping through the chemo slump.

Hufflepuff me. We won’t let the hard times we go through define us, right?!

Slytherin hubby. Right, we’ll just let them give us crippling anxiety and a twisted sense of humor.

It’s a strange thing to go about your life when someone you love is dying.

3 weeks and 6 days ago, my dad learned his cancer is growing & isn’t treatable, and chose to start hospice. “Hospice” - I knew in theory what it was. Some vague notion of kind faces and gentle hands that somehow made the journey of last days easy.

You don’t know that the reality of the process is much more stark. Everything we’ve come to expect to do for an illness or injury now must NOT be expected. You don’t know because it’s too morbid, too terrible to ask the grieving what it was like. Embarrassed and helpless, you prop them up in a careful corner with hugs and hand clasps and “thinking of you” texts.

6 days ago, Dad had 1 last round of radiation on the new brain tumors to buy him more time. It has wrought havoc on his body. Father’s Day was spent helplessly praying as he vomited and staggered a path back and forth to the bathroom.

I sat and listened to him breathe, overcome by the thought that this could be it - his last hours. But it wasn’t happening in that vague, nebulous kindness with no pain, no last gentle forehead kisses or my sister and brother-in-law with us to bear witness to the end.

I’m not ready. I want to hear his laugh a hundred more times, memorize the stories to tell his 4 grandchildren, take him on one last drive. I want to play him his favorite songs, take dozens more pictures, and watch one more John Wayne movie with him.

Tonight, he fell. And I was confronted with the other half of this painful journey - my mom. The woman who has led our family through more crap than any person should. The weight of watching her life partner of 48 years suffer, wither, has crippled her. I spent the still midnight end of the equinox calling non-emergency dispatch, on call triage nurses. My sister was pulled from a mom’s haggard sleep as we spoke in quiet hushes of the facts and our fears.

In the midst of this stark revealing, I’m recovering from surgery. The day after dad’s cancer news, I took an Uber to the hospital. I’d never felt more alone. My single-ness lay sharp-edged inside my chest. Precious friends stayed in constant touch, their love a balm across the distance (I love you, @thesassywallflower ). A warmth in the vacantness my family couldn’t or wouldn’t fill in my weakness.

I feel suspended - so much must be done, the days march on, but i can’t help the ear always listening for a text or a call. Oddly moored and waiting for the unknown tide that must come.

Forgive me for this pouring out. My brain is scrabbling to make sense of this weird time I find myself in. Life is so. Damn. Hard right now. And yet - it must be lived.