No matter how well you prepare yourself, you're never really ready for the moment when your parents stop taking care of you and you have to start caring for them. This moment has come for my sisters and me. It occurred when we learned that my Mother has lung cancer.
I doubt I'm saying anything new to most of you, but it's my turn to go through the experience. It sure is weird. My parents were barely 20 when I was born, which makes them younger than the parents of most of my peers. I now understand the jittery nerves and breath-holding moments that happen while you're waiting for news from the doctors. How big is the "spot"? What exactly is a PET scan? Will it hurt? And of course, what are Mom's chances of survival? And what quality of life will she have? My Mom was a pack-a-day smoker for 50 years, so this is not exactly unexpected. Still, we all naturally hope and pray that a miracle will happen and Mom will be spared the trauma, pain and ultimate surrender that often accompany this diagnosis.
When my parents divorced my Mom found herself a single mother with 4 little girls under the age of 10, with only enough child support to afford the most spartan of conditions for us. She went back to full-time nursing after a 9-year break, took correspondence courses to update her medical knowledge, and made sure we all did our homework, brushed our teeth and did our chores. She even co-led our Girl Scout troop for a year. Mom's a real survivor, but she fell apart when the doctor told her that the dime-sized spot on her lung that he had been keeping an eye on had grown and it was time to do a biopsy. Sometimes having medical knowledge is a curse -- Mom knew that meant he suspected cancer. My youngest sister Dianne lives about a half-hour drive from Mom. By interesting coincidence they both have the same physician (GP). It has fallen to Dianne to receive the panicked phone calls, sift through the tears and garbled phrases, and communicate the news to her sisters. She has done a fantastic job providing clear and timely information. Thank you, sweetie!
In times of crisis, you learn new things about your siblings. I'm the oldest, so people expect me to take charge in moments like this. But I'm halfway across the world so I can't do it. Geography somewhat dictated our roles, but it's the youngest who has been the most parental. Granted, Dianne has three grown children, so she is probably also the best qualified. The sister I thought could handle it the most easily took the news especially hard. These are good things to know about your family. Mom's in the no-computer-for-me camp, so I don't have the luxury of Skype, but in lieu of being there I have racked up a few hundred minutes on my cell phone in the past few weeks. Vince and I do our best to make her laugh and get her to talk about her fears. It seems to help.
It has been three weeks since that first difficult conversation. Many others have occurred since then, but yesterday we received the good news. Although the spot on my Mom's lung is indeed cancer, it is encapsulated and the nodule has not metastasized. Tomorrow Mom, Dianne and the doctor will discuss treatment options, which will most likely include surgery followed by chemotherapy. Belt and suspenders, Vince calls it. I wish I could be there.
I doubt I'm saying anything new to most of you, but it's my turn to go through the experience. It sure is weird. My parents were barely 20 when I was born, which makes them younger than the parents of most of my peers. I now understand the jittery nerves and breath-holding moments that happen while you're waiting for news from the doctors. How big is the "spot"? What exactly is a PET scan? Will it hurt? And of course, what are Mom's chances of survival? And what quality of life will she have? My Mom was a pack-a-day smoker for 50 years, so this is not exactly unexpected. Still, we all naturally hope and pray that a miracle will happen and Mom will be spared the trauma, pain and ultimate surrender that often accompany this diagnosis.
When my parents divorced my Mom found herself a single mother with 4 little girls under the age of 10, with only enough child support to afford the most spartan of conditions for us. She went back to full-time nursing after a 9-year break, took correspondence courses to update her medical knowledge, and made sure we all did our homework, brushed our teeth and did our chores. She even co-led our Girl Scout troop for a year. Mom's a real survivor, but she fell apart when the doctor told her that the dime-sized spot on her lung that he had been keeping an eye on had grown and it was time to do a biopsy. Sometimes having medical knowledge is a curse -- Mom knew that meant he suspected cancer. My youngest sister Dianne lives about a half-hour drive from Mom. By interesting coincidence they both have the same physician (GP). It has fallen to Dianne to receive the panicked phone calls, sift through the tears and garbled phrases, and communicate the news to her sisters. She has done a fantastic job providing clear and timely information. Thank you, sweetie!
In times of crisis, you learn new things about your siblings. I'm the oldest, so people expect me to take charge in moments like this. But I'm halfway across the world so I can't do it. Geography somewhat dictated our roles, but it's the youngest who has been the most parental. Granted, Dianne has three grown children, so she is probably also the best qualified. The sister I thought could handle it the most easily took the news especially hard. These are good things to know about your family. Mom's in the no-computer-for-me camp, so I don't have the luxury of Skype, but in lieu of being there I have racked up a few hundred minutes on my cell phone in the past few weeks. Vince and I do our best to make her laugh and get her to talk about her fears. It seems to help.
So glad for the good news on encapsulation! Hope that her treatment plan is very successful.
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