Another Journey

There are numerous types of cancer journeys. When my journey ended[1], I thought we were finished. But just as one journey was ending, another was beginning.  First it was I, and I was the patient.  Now, it is my mom and I am the caregiver.  My journey with breast cancer was a walk in the park compared to what she is going to endure.  I remember thanking God on many occasions for making my journey bearable.  For helping my side effects to be “minimal.”  For letting me keep working full-time without missing a beat.  Oh sure, I had quite a ride with 97 trips and over 5500 miles back and forth to the clinic for chemo, mastectomy, radiation, and follow-ups. I have endured a few side effects throughout the year like neuropathy, deep pain in the bones, hair and nail deficiencies, low blood counts, and some other minor set-backs.  But I never stopped living.  I kept on working.  The pain was at least bearable, and I knew it was only temporary.

As I’m flying to Florida to walk with my mom through her cancer journey, I already foresee a different path.  Now I will be one of the caregivers and I will watch from a different perspective.  I often thought when I was in treatment that it was harder for friends and family members than it was for me, the patient.  Perhaps because my symptoms were so mild, in spite of the advanced breast cancer, I did not feel the right to hold others’ sympathy.  Now I am wondering if I will confirm or deny that thought as I look into the future, wondering what it will hold, how long of a future, and wondering how I can help her while not neglecting the family that is now behind me four states away.  The pain she will endure will hardly be bearable, yet she will have to fight.  It is a battle that can only be won with perseverance and a positive mental attitude.  She has to fight, and I need to coach her in the battle.

I recently read in a blog of someone who was annoyed with the phrase, “God won’t give me anything I can’t handle.”  The writer recognized that, in fact, He does allow us to experience more than we can handle.  We can’t do it alone.  It is only through the toughest trials that we fully trust in Him to see us through.  If I could handle this on my own, I wouldn’t need Him to walk with me.  My mom would be able to stand on her own two feet and eliminate her cancer.  She needs family, friends, and most of all, the Lord to see her through.

No, we need the Lord.  I need Him to continue to strengthen me in this new journey.

At this point all we know is she has a very fast growing malignant melanoma on her scalp and neck. It is so large they cannot operate.  She has several sores on her head (very painful) and lumps on her neck.  The last surgeon (she has seen three, none who would operate) told her it may have penetrated her skull by now.  They must do medicine or radiation to shrink it, and then if they can operate it will take a team of experts like surgeons, neurosurgeons, plastic surgeons, and more.  I don’t even know who all will be involved as we are waiting for the consult.  We are waiting for the PET scan on Tuesday.  She was supposed to have it on Friday, but her sugar level was too high so they could not do it.  Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, as I can now be there for the PET scan, make sure she is prepared, and we will all hear the results at the same time.

The PET scan will tell us whether it has traveled to other organs.  She has been falling and dizzy, which means it could be in her brain.  She is unaware of time.  For example, Thursday night she woke up in her chair at 6:30 PM, and thought it was time to go to the hospital to get her PET scan.  She got up, showered, and went to the clinic.  It was closed, and a janitor helped her realize it was PM, not AM, so her appointment was not until the next morning.  She laughed about it, but she is scared of losing her mind before the cancer kills her body.

I am also scared, but I push the fear away with the love I have for my mother.  While tears have been shed, it is unproductive to sit and ponder issues of which we know nothing.  I am confident the Lord will reveal all to us and He will prepare us for what lies ahead.  He will walk with us through each step, and whether she lives or dies He will be there.  Thinking about it logically, in terms of logistics, helps fight the urge to sit and feel the pain.  There will be time to grieve, but for now we must press forward with a plan.

So this week we have appointments on at least three different days – her oncologist, her foot doctor, her PET scan, Moffitt Cancer Center, and then we should know what to do.  My flight home is scheduled for next Sunday, but if I need to change it I will stay longer.  I will stay until we have a solid plan and I know she will be taken care of.

À la prochaine (Until next time) …