The Waiting is the Hardest Part
Wednesday, September 15, 2010 at 8:44AM I've avoided my blog for days because I didn't want to write depressing shit.
I've finally resolved myself to the fact that writing about depressing shit is still writing and writing is cathartic and therapeutic. So write I shall; even if it is depressing and loaded to the tits with profanity. And I won't blame you in the least if you don't want to read it.
When my mom was diagnosed with melanoma this summer I was instantly, overwhelmingly gutted. It was an emotional, horrible shock and felt a lot like you'd expect to feel when you hear a loved one has the C word.
And then... it just kind of settled down. She had surgery, she felt fine, things were good. Fuck cancer! Cancer was no match for my mom and we were going to beat this!
But while I was busy feeling over confident and lapping up the dog days of summer, the cancer was plotting a serious mind fuck.
Cancer is menacing and evil in that way. I can almost hear its maniacal laughter emanating from inside my mother. Knowing that we're waiting for news from the all knowing doctors, the cancer is having a field day making my mother feel miserable and reminding us all who is in control right now.
It's only been a week since my mother was in to see the oncologist, but she already feels so much worse. She is in constant pain. The lymph node the doctor extracted fluid from is bigger. The neighboring nodes are swelling. Her abdomen is still sore and now her lower back has decided to join the pain party. The pain is worse at night, so sleep eludes her. She's laying down a lot. <-- That? Is just not like her. Not at all. Her appetite is shot and she goes to bed before my four year old.
I can tell she's scared.
I'm scared.
Still no appointment for a CT scan. Still no word on test results from the node fluid.
Nothing but the sound of crickets.
And that maniacal laughter. Fucker.
This is no time to be polite and patient. My mother is overwhelmed and well... terrified, duh. So today, I called the oncologist. Guess what happened? The (completely lovely) receptionist Leanne said "oh, the doctor just asked for your mother's chart yesterday..." She said she'd investigate and call me back.
Leanne is a woman of her word. Not 15 minutes later she called back to say the CT scan plan has been scrapped and she's now being bumped up to a PET scan. We don't have a date yet, but it should all happen really quickly. Quicker than a CT. A PET is "the best scan there is", says Leanne.
Now I'm REALLY FUCKING WORRIED.
And still, we wait. Not as long now maybe, but sill... we wait.
Reader Comments (3)
The waiting is the worst. And yet nothing is as hard as seeing the woman you look up to and admire and had as a role model for your entire life be taken down by such a horrible and unfair disease. Watching someone with such strength, and such power, and such grace become almost a shadow of what she once was? I wouldn't wish this on ANYONE. EVER. It's heartbreaking. And I'm here for you. *hugs*
Waiting is so hard, so frustrating, and so unfair.
Thinking of you.
HUGS. Sending good thoughts your way. xoxo