I waited to write this post until I was certain (or at least mostly certain) about the trajectory that the story would take. Now, Mother's Day two years later, seem apropos.
Two years ago while skiing in Tahoe with friends, my mom found out she had breast cancer. Sadly, we can't say it was the most unexpected things since my grandmother (her mother) and my great-aunt both got it when they were in her 60s. My great-grandmother had breast & ovarian cancer as well, so we have it coming from all angles.
Together with her doctors, she decided to undergo a double mastectomy (which I'm sure she'd kill me for posting about on the worldwide web) within three weeks. At the time of the surgery, they would be able to determine if it had spread and then what further treatment would be needed. So it became a waiting game.
During that time, I thought a lot about the timing of major life events and what it all means. I've got to think there was a good reason for this news arriving at the very beginning of a five-day vacation with friends. I'm not one for compartmentalizing, so I can only assume I would've holed myself up in some crying vortex if I had been in Chicago. Or tried to fly to Texas immediately. Neither of those things would have really done any good, so although it really skewed my level of enthusiasm on the trip, I have to say that the distraction probably served me well in the long run. By the time I got back, I had gotten most of my sporadic emotions under control and was able to focus on what it was that I needed to do.
Of course, I never figured out exactly what I needed to do. The biggest lesson I learned from my dad's illness/death was that even though it seemed like the healthiest thing to do was to maintain as normal of a life as possible during the chaos, that could mean that you ended up being surprised by death and then second-guessing every time you allowed yourself to maintain a normal life. Since hindsight is 20/20, I figured maybe I should use this "learning" now...but to do what? The alternative of acting like everything is okay is to pretty much say or do the things you've always wanted to do/say for fear that your loved one will die without knowing or experiencing something. But in doing that, you insinuate that a situation just might not end up okay...which is why you're hedging your bets. And in a situation like my mom's, where she was terrified of dying, I figured the best thing I could do (independent of my lesson) was to be as positive as possible.
My mom recovered from surgery remarkably well and was back to work within a few weeks. After a lot of tests and doctor's appointments, they decided that she wouldn't do any sort of chemo or radiation and instead take a less-intrusive medication and continue to be monitored - so essentially, the best case scenario. Sweet, sweet relief! The weeks leading up to the surgery and through the initial recovery were just short of excruciating for everyone involved, but it's hard to believe that it all happened so fast! The experience feels so surreal now. And I'm certain it will never be over for my mom, who now had to adjust to a new body and also the fear of a recurrence. But still, I think we walked away from this with the biggest dodged-a-bullet sigh of relief you can imagine. I mean, my friends were amazing (especially Keely, Amy, and Megan, who drove from near and far to be with me and my mom), my stepfather proved to be even more loving and supportive than we already knew him to be, and I think a little piece of my relationship with my mom was restored during all the pain and fear. I saw her in a way I never had before - she was relentlessly determined and fought through pain and sickness to do her part in the healing process, and I think that played a huge role in why she recuperated so quickly. I've never heard her complain about it, and she's produced some wicked boob jokes out of it too (always a bonus). I'm proud to call her my mom.
So...here's to taking care of our bodies, taking care of our moms, and taking what's coming around the corner in stride.
Two years ago while skiing in Tahoe with friends, my mom found out she had breast cancer. Sadly, we can't say it was the most unexpected things since my grandmother (her mother) and my great-aunt both got it when they were in her 60s. My great-grandmother had breast & ovarian cancer as well, so we have it coming from all angles.
Together with her doctors, she decided to undergo a double mastectomy (which I'm sure she'd kill me for posting about on the worldwide web) within three weeks. At the time of the surgery, they would be able to determine if it had spread and then what further treatment would be needed. So it became a waiting game.
During that time, I thought a lot about the timing of major life events and what it all means. I've got to think there was a good reason for this news arriving at the very beginning of a five-day vacation with friends. I'm not one for compartmentalizing, so I can only assume I would've holed myself up in some crying vortex if I had been in Chicago. Or tried to fly to Texas immediately. Neither of those things would have really done any good, so although it really skewed my level of enthusiasm on the trip, I have to say that the distraction probably served me well in the long run. By the time I got back, I had gotten most of my sporadic emotions under control and was able to focus on what it was that I needed to do.
Of course, I never figured out exactly what I needed to do. The biggest lesson I learned from my dad's illness/death was that even though it seemed like the healthiest thing to do was to maintain as normal of a life as possible during the chaos, that could mean that you ended up being surprised by death and then second-guessing every time you allowed yourself to maintain a normal life. Since hindsight is 20/20, I figured maybe I should use this "learning" now...but to do what? The alternative of acting like everything is okay is to pretty much say or do the things you've always wanted to do/say for fear that your loved one will die without knowing or experiencing something. But in doing that, you insinuate that a situation just might not end up okay...which is why you're hedging your bets. And in a situation like my mom's, where she was terrified of dying, I figured the best thing I could do (independent of my lesson) was to be as positive as possible.
My mom recovered from surgery remarkably well and was back to work within a few weeks. After a lot of tests and doctor's appointments, they decided that she wouldn't do any sort of chemo or radiation and instead take a less-intrusive medication and continue to be monitored - so essentially, the best case scenario. Sweet, sweet relief! The weeks leading up to the surgery and through the initial recovery were just short of excruciating for everyone involved, but it's hard to believe that it all happened so fast! The experience feels so surreal now. And I'm certain it will never be over for my mom, who now had to adjust to a new body and also the fear of a recurrence. But still, I think we walked away from this with the biggest dodged-a-bullet sigh of relief you can imagine. I mean, my friends were amazing (especially Keely, Amy, and Megan, who drove from near and far to be with me and my mom), my stepfather proved to be even more loving and supportive than we already knew him to be, and I think a little piece of my relationship with my mom was restored during all the pain and fear. I saw her in a way I never had before - she was relentlessly determined and fought through pain and sickness to do her part in the healing process, and I think that played a huge role in why she recuperated so quickly. I've never heard her complain about it, and she's produced some wicked boob jokes out of it too (always a bonus). I'm proud to call her my mom.
So...here's to taking care of our bodies, taking care of our moms, and taking what's coming around the corner in stride.
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| Day before surgery, 2012 |
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| 2013, Chicago! |
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| X-mas 2013, Texas |
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