Me and my mom, my best friend.

Me and my mom, my best friend.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Next Chapter


We knew that today was going to be tough. Mom actually threatened to not let me go with her (as if she could really stop me), if I was going to be emotional. I assured her that I would be fine. Today was the day that she announced her decision to her doctor. Her decision to stop all treatments. When she walked in, Ms. Gail (the Nurse Practitioner) did her usual (asked questions, updated medicine info, etc). Then mom, who I could tell was anxious to bring it up, asked "Remember what we talked about last week?" Ms. Gail shook her head. "Well, I have made my decision. I want to stop treatment." Her voice cracked and her lip quivered a bit. Ms. Gail turned and looked at me "how do you feel about her decision?" I was strong. I was sad, but you couldn't tell it by looking at me. I was following orders. "I respect her and her decision. I have watched the chemo make things worse and worse. I agree with her 100%", I announced proudly. Ms. Gail seemed pleased with my answer. As I spoke, I felt the lump beginning to form in my throat. She talked to us a bit about Hospice, then left the room briefly. Mom looked at me. I looked at her. All she said was "I want you to ask the dr. whatever you want to ask".  I felt her heart aching, and I know she felt mine. But we both refused to cry. We waited patiently for the Dr. to arrive.
 
Through all of her appointments, mom has NEVER sat on the table, unless they made her. This is always her chair. My place is always on the floor or across the room from her.


When Ms Gail (left) and Dr. Penland (right) came back in, she looked me in the eye and said "If this was my mom, I would want her to do this." That was my most important question. She told us there was a 90% chance that mom's CANCER would not respond to any other treatment, but her BODY would be negatively affected by them. My mom looked at her Dr. that she has absolute faith in, the person that has navigated us through this journey, and she thanked her. "I have always trusted you", she said, "thank you for everything". As she spoke, she began to cry. Of course, I began to cry as well. The dr. spoke about other options. I told her "I think I speak on behalf of myself AND my brothers when I say that we have no doubts about the care she has received or regrets about potential care she could have received." " I don't want you guys to have any regrets" she said. "We won't", I assured her. "We have watched her deteriorate everyday. We have witnessed it all firsthand. We know she is making the right decision". The conversation was long and heartfelt. She told us stories of her relatives that were also cancer patients. She spoke about statistics and miracles. This is when my mom said "I STILL could be that miracle. You told me from the beginning that I could be that miracle. I still believe it's possible. I am not giving up." Dr. Penland agreed. My tears were falling. Mom pointed at me and said "I TOLD YOU.........." " I know, I know, but YOU started it!", I threw the blame at her. We kind of laughed.
We found out that mom would be turned over to Hospice, but Dr. Penland still makes all of her medical decisions. Nothing will change, except mom will receive any further care at home. We all hugged and said our "goodbye's". Though we may see them again, the situation has greatly changed. We have seen them once a week (or more) for 8 months now. It was sad walking away from them today.

This is Ms. Kathy, who I commonly refer to as "the chemo lady". She is also the one who talked me through many meltdowns, tough decisions and hard times throughout this ordeal. She is absolutely wonderful. She encouraged me to continue to call if I needed her.

Dr. Penland talked to us for a long time. She really eased my mind and calmed my nerves about the change that is taking place. As of Monday, I will have to learn to trust a whole new group of people and pray that they take care of my mom like the Oncology staff of Jefferson Medical has. I am petrified and sad, though I am relieved that my mom may now find some relief. The last few weeks have been horrible for her. She is saddened, that while her thirst for life is still great, her body's ability to quench it is very, very limited. We hope that will change even if it's only for a brief amount of time. I asked her if she was ok. She said "I am very confident with my decision". And I know that she is.

Dr. Penland spoke about something that most Dr's don't. She spoke about her spiritual beliefs. She said that she had watched many patients pass, and she witnessed the spirit leave them. She said you can just see the spirit disappear. It has to exist. This means, that if your mom leaves you-you WILL see her again. It's not 'goodbye', it's 'see ya later'". Mom and I shot each other a teary eyed smile, then simultaneously said "I like that", and smiled a little bigger at the coincidental thought. Though this was difficult to hear, it was enlightening and uplifting as well. She encouraged mom to live. Live and laugh and love and take full advantage of her remaining time. That is exactly what we intend to do.
Live.

Laugh.

Love.
We enter the next chapter of the unknown and unpredictable novel of life, hand in hand.

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