Vulnerability

I watched my mom with a careful eye yesterday just before she was released from the hospital.

She had to lie flat on her back for 30 minutes after the wonderful nurse removed her central line. Mom had closed her eyes. She looked at peace. And, she looked vulnerable.

She wouldn't be able to act upon anything that came upon her. And, for the first time, I saw my mom as how she will eventually look inside a coffin at her funeral. I'm not trying to be morbid. In a way, I think the events of the past few months have been preparing me for the inevitable. That, I will one day, bury my parents.

Seeing my mom the way I did and thinking of what lays ahead, hopefully, in the very distant future, is not something one should have to picture of their loved one. It's a reality that we're not exposed to on a regular basis. And, when it happens, it slaps us directly in the face. In a place where it will hurt. And, hurt for a very long time.

Today, I have my mom. She's moving gingerly around the house, without the aid of a walker. She's excited about travel plans to some national parks later in July. She's excited about her second grand-daughter being close by at the University of Arkansas later this fall. She wants to live .... until she's at least 100.

For now, I'll just take things one day at a time. And our vulnerability, I'll leave to someone greater than me. He'll keep me safe and protected. He's in control. That's what matters.

Educating Connie

In September, my husband and I took a class titled, "Strength-Finders". My top strength is Learner. Meaning, I love to learn things. It's the process of learning, not necessarily what I've learned, that I enjoy. One of the my other strengths is "input". I collect things: photos, postcards, information.

Here's how they've played out the past few months since my mother's diagnosis. When we first learned my mother's cancer was a certain type, the family began our collective research project finding all possible information from the internet. I tried to stay with websites that I knew I could trust for medical terminology. The more I learned, the less I wanted to know. To the untrained medical person, liver cancer is liver cancer. To the medical person, it was adenocarcinoma. Again, I didn't like what I learned -- where liver cancer (or adenocarcinoma) originates, treatment options, life expectancy. The tumor is inoperable. It wasn't very good.

After more tests showed that the liver cancer didn't originate somewhere else, now it was called cholangiocarcinoma. That's still liver cancer to you and me. It means the treatment is different - the tumor is operable. Life expectancy is longer. Instead of months, we now have the possibility of 3-5 years.

Today, my mother was scheduled for surgery. Was scheduled. It's been delayed for two days because of blood. More stuff to learn about. More stuff I don't want to know. Stuff about blood antibodies and antigens.

Sadly, I'm only interested in all this information because of my mother's cancer diagnosis. I have no desire to know more about it. Nor do I enjoy learning about it. I am, however, thankful that there are people who have a passion for medicine, who want to learn and know about various cancers, antibodies and antigens.

There were days I had to hold myself back from researching "cancer". My brain ceased to process the information. I couldn't arrange the information I had collected into something I could deal with. (I needed someone who's strength is Arranger). Honestly, I didn't want one. I wasn't going to Arrange my information into a pretty hard-bound scrapbook that I would get out on a regular basis to "re-live" the experience. I want this to be a one-time, short-term experience.

There has been some comfort in all this cancer research. Modern medicine has made great strides in cancer diagnosis and treatment. Patients are living longer. People are becoming more aware. Cancer is more prevalent in our society. More people are diagnosed with it. Family and friends of cancer patients are telling their experiences, sharing their successes. It's encouraging for me. That's what I hope this blog does for others: that it encourages them.

We live to battle another day!

The Role of My Mother

When I first found out about my mom's cancer diagnosis, one of my pastors gave me a book, "The Grief Recovery Handbook" by John W. James and Russell Friedman. The phrase: All relationships are unique, no exceptions. I took the information one step further -- all relationships are unique because each person in the relationship is unique.

Somehow, I started to think about the roles my mother has played at different times throughout my life. She has been a teacher, nurse, comforter, colleague, mentor, friend, parent, nurturer, protector, defender, disciplinarian. These roles are very similar to another parent, but that's another story for another time.

As a teacher, my mom taught me how to tie my shoes, bathe myself, dress myself, walk and chew gum (okay - that one needs some more work - haha), ride a bike. Later in life, she taught me how to drive a car, do laundry, cook, clean, and balance my checkbook (all without the aid of a calculator or computer software application program).

As long as I was in school, and dependent upon them for my basic needs, my mom was my parent, not my friend. We didn't "hang out" together on a regular basis. We didn't "giggle" like little girls together. She didn't go with me to roller skating parties or Saturday morning bowling. That's not to say she wasn't friendly. But, her role at that time in my life was as a parent. The friend would come later.

When I graduated from college, moved to Southern California with my parents, and began my career in civil service, we become colleagues. She always had the higher pay and the "manager" title that went with it. She was never my boss. We were never on the same program and I think we only attended one or two meetings together. We had separated our familial relationship at work where others had not. At work, she was Mary Jo. I referred to her as Mary Jo even though I never called her that to her face. At home, she was mom.

What roles has your mother played in your life? Have you thanked her? One year for my birthday, I sent my mother a rose for every year of my life. It's idea I borrowed from my high school speech teacher's son, who sent his mom one rose for every year of his life.

Our relationship hasn't always been easy. Again, that's another story for another time.

Suffice it to say, our relationship has weathered some pretty rough times.

Recently, I asked her her if there were any unresolved issues in our relationship. A topic broached only because of a broken relationship with one of her younger brothers. She said "no - we're okay." And, we are.

What kind of relationship do you have with your mom? If you have a broken relationship with your mother, daughter, sister, brother or anyone else, take the time now to resolve those issues, while you're both alive. As I've come to realize all too quickly these past few months, time is not always on our side.

Once A Mom Always A Mom

Even though I'm well into my 40s and quite capable of doing things, my mother somehow keeps reminding me to "be careful." It used to drive me crazy. And, I would always reply in exasperation, "Mother!"

Well, that's just it! She told me in oh so gentle words, that she will always be my mother. "Once a mother, always a mother," she told me. She said she would always be on the lookout for danger - and tell me to be on the lookout as well.

Case in point #1: When I was younger, and long before child safety restraints and rules requiring children to be buckled in the back seat, I would ride in the front passenger seat. As mom slammed on the brakes to avoid approaching danger, she would quickly fling her right arm out and barricade my body from being thrust into the dash board and out the front windshield. She still does that. "Once a mom, always a mom."

Case in point #2: When I would help her in the kitchen, she would caution me to be careful as I opened the oven door. "Be careful," she would say. When I had a home of my own, and my parents visited, I would be busy preparing dinner. Mom would help or stay out of the way, depending on how elaborate the meal was. As I opened the oven door, she would say, "Be careful."

Like I said, it used to drive me crazy. Within the last couple of years, it has become a point of laughter for us. Now, when she flings out her right arm or says "Be careful," I just looked at her and lovingly say, "Mother." And, we laugh.

Role Reversal

My mother has always been there to take care of my illnesses. I remember she made a special trip from California shortly after my husband and I bought our first home. I had surgery to improve our chances of conception. Mom took care of the details of our home: the cooking and cleaning. She was also my nursemaid - checking my temperature, reminding me to drink plenty of liquids, reminding me to eat, being careful when walking down the steps. She drove me around town until the doctor cleared me to drive. She even helped bathe me when I couldn't reach certain locations.

I never had children. So, I never had the opportunity to be a mom - to nurture a child to adulthood. To witness the pain of growing up. To witness the joy of reaching maturity.

I do, however, play "mom" to my 8-year-old border collie flat-coat retriever mix dog.

Now, I'm a mom to my mom. I'm the nursemaid. I'm doing the cooking and cleaning of the house. I'm driving her around town (a place I'm not very familiar with) so that she can attend to her "normal" routine: a haircut, attending the community theater. I'm making sure she has plenty of water to drink, preparing a cup of bouillon to warm her from the chills. I'm reminding her to take her anti-nausea medication and supporting her holding the glass of water as her hand shakes uncontrollably.

I know why my mother did it - out of love. That's why I'm doing it - out of love.

Mixed News

I think I may have misspelled Agnes. Regardless, we're still going to fight. The PET scan did not show where the "mother ship" was located. Just a few hots spots in the lymph nodes on her neck. On Monday, Mom asked about a blood test that was done several weeks ago - it's the pancreatic cancer marker. It wasn't elevated, which could mean that the cancer didn't originate in the pancreas. But, we still don't know for sure.

There's a possibility the tumor is a result of another type of cancer, which is a bit more hopeful.

Mom will have a transfusion on Thursday morning to prepare her for chemotherapy beginning Friday (GOOD FRIDAY). Significant - could be. There are no coincidences where God is concerned.

She won't lose her hair, which is a good thing; although in way I was looking forward to going shopping for wigs, hats, scarves. What fun that would have been! Not that I think anyone who deals with cancer would think anything about it is fun. But, it doesn't mean that life should come to a standstill. Every waking moment doesn't have to be grim or sad. Enjoy being alive! Enjoy spending time with one another.

I wish this wasn't happening. As I posted on my Facebook status a few days ago, if this is the hand that I'm dealt, well then, let's play cards.

Speaking of cards, Mom & I took on Jeff and my Dad in a game of Hand & Foot. We lead the entire game and came out victorious. Mom is prepared to fight this cancer - to fight that hand she's been dealt - and we will all come out victorious!

Getting back to the chemo - she has her first round on Good Friday. A week later, another round. And, I believe, if she's able to handle the treatment, they'll add something to the therapy. Surgery could be a possibility if the tumor is a different type of cancer. It will depend on her age - and she'll have to travel to have the surgery.

Please pray for: Strength for the chemotherapy. That the treatment will reduce the tumors. Pray for wisdom for the pathologist as he reviews the slides from the liver biopsy. Pray for clear results. Pray that the tumor is from the other type of cancer. Pray that she will be strong to withstand surgery at her age. Pray for time. Pray for strength, comfort and peace for all of us. Thank God for giving us this time to be together as a family. Thank God that tests so far reveal it's not pancreatic cancer.

Sense of Humor

My mom has a wonderful sense of humor. Even in the face of this trial, she finds time to laugh. On Thursday, just before her endoscopy, she told her oncologist to find the "mother ship". I have this image of the "mother ship" from Independence Day. My mom's doctors are Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum and they'll deliver the fatal blow that cripples the "mother ship".

My mom has also named her tumor that was located on her liver. Mom is ready to due battle with Agnus. (My apologies to anyone who is named Agnus or has friends and/or relatives named Agnus). Mom is ready to have the doctors "zap" Agnus.

Wednesday we will know more about the "mother ship".

Until then, please pray for strength, comfort, peace for my mother and our family. Pray for safe travel, clear roads, good weather, no obstacles, no delays.

Tribute to my Mom - Things my Mother taught me

When I started this blog months ago, I didn't really know how I would inaugurate my blog. Call it writer's block. As the events of this week unfolded, a light bulb went off and I knew this would be a great way to start.

Mother's Day is fast approaching. And, if the schedule holds true, it will be the end of the second round of my mother's chemotherapy treatment. She's been diagnosed with cancer. What kind, we don't know yet. We just know it has metastasized to her liver and one of her lymph nodes.

With that in mind, and with the phone calls, emails and personal visits I've had since I let friends know of my mother's diagnosis, they've asked me to keep them updated. As such, I decided I would start my blog with a tribute to my mother. So, I've jotted down more than 20 things my mother taught me. Granted, some of this she may have borrowed from other sources, but she passed them along to me. These are in no particular order.

1. Look both ways before you cross the street.

2. Always wear clean underwear.

3. Pick your battles.

4. Share.

5. Be nice.

6. Do your best.

7. You're never too old to learn.

8. Say please, thank you and I'm sorry and actually mean them.

9. Take care of the things you have; they'll last longer. (In no way am I saying things are more important than people. Nor am I saying you should put plastic on the carpet or furniture, but if that's your thing - so be it.)

10. You can't change someone else, you can only change yourself.

11. You're not any better than anyone else.

12. Don't cry over spilt milk.

13. Don't chew food with your mouth open.

14. Use both hands - be careful.

15. Don't embarrass yourself (or your parents/family).

16. Watch where you're going.

17. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Choose your words carefully.

18. Treat others they way you want to be treated.

19. Be content with what you have.

20. If you haven't worn it, touched it, played with it, smelled it, used it (or more) in a year, get rid of it. (Donate it).

21. Don't bite off more than you can chew.

22. Clean up after yourself.

23. Make the most of every opportunity.

24. Nourish your relationships. Spend quality time with friends and family.