Roy and I went to visit mom again at M.D. Anderson. Aaron, Candice, Wolfie, and Drew went along
with us. We leave early (about 5:30
a.m.) so we can be there early enough to see the doctor. Around the corner from the hospital, we stop
at a grocery store for flowers and are greeted in the entrance by shelves of
orchids. Around the bottom of the flower
are several other types of greenery. I like them because they are planted and less
likely to decay too fast. Drew and
Candice pick out their favorite.
Roy is in a wheelchair he is still in a lot of pain from his knee
surgery. We stroll/roll into the room
and present her with the flower. She
loves it and I place it in the window and add a bit of water. Mom is a tad groggy and has just finished her
morning Boost drink. This is all that
she can stomach right now. She drinks about two a day, but on a good day,
three. She asks me to make her one of her
mixed drinks (a 50/50 concoction of citrus green tea and apple juice) which we
have all come to refer to as “her cocktails”.
We all sit and visit for about an hour and then the nurse comes in
to clean her up so I send everyone to the “Observation Floor” which is the very
top floor where people can lounge and look out across the town from all sides
of the building. I sit with mom.
After a while, I try to bring up the papers she needs to sign. She
had asked me to bring the Franchise Tax papers so she could sign and I could
send for filing, also forms from the broker regarding her shares getting transferred
to another brokerage firm, and the title to her truck because she wants Aaron
to have it. I show them to her so she
can review to see if they are filled out correctly but she is in some pain and
doesn’t want to deal with the Franchise Tax. She semi-signs the papers from the
broker, and she decides that she would rather gift the title to Aaron because
it’s cheaper for him. I put the papers
up not wanting to deal with it anymore.
A “white coat” comes in.
She’s cute with pixie-cut red hair and extra piercings in her ears. She
hands some paperwork to me with information about mom’s diagnosis and
procedures. Some of it is Greek to me,
and other parts are more obvious – overall, it doesn’t help clear up anything
really. She goes on to say that they
biopsied two “balls” medically referred to as “punches” and both came back as benign
and unidentifiable. These punches were then sent to a skin specialist who also
could not identify them. “So they’re anomalies
then?” I ask humorously. “Yes” she
replies with a giggle. (Leave it to mom
to render everyone clueless.)
She explains that during the surgery on the fistula the doctor
found another very small cancer. He was
very surprised by this and she couldn’t say whether it was a recurrence, or
whether it was left behind from the surgery to remove the cancer last
February. She says it could have been so
small that it was missed, but that would be very, very unlikely.
She goes on to explain “there is no time line, that’s up to your
mom…” (I don’t know if she’s referring to mom’s state of mind and the
importance of a positive or negative attitude or if she’s referring to mom
deciding whether or not she wants to have more surgery.) “We could remove it but we might be chasing
our tails and, your mom’s really tired.”
She doesn’t know if cancer is traveling through mom’s system or not but
confirms, “oh yes, she still has cancer.”
I’m taken aback some by the differences in what I am told today by
the doctor and what mom had initially said.
First, the doctor did know whether the cancer was traveling through her
body. Second, there was no timeline
given to mom. I worry that mom, being a
bit delirious, reported a more dramatic prognosis for herself. Did she jump to conclusions. Have we been
misled and have I inadvertently misled my children? I try to rationalize.
Look, this cancer first reared its head a year ago. Made a
reappearance in December (less than a year later) and grew quickly and invasively
in a matter of a couple of months. They
took it out again clearing a wide margin to ensure that they had everything,
and already in only a month, we are seeing it again. Realistically, this thing is in her
body and it is terminal. So, despite the differences in reports, it is all
still very serious. And I knew
this. It’s been in my head that the
longer she stays in that hospital, and the continued complications, she is
still in very critical condition. But,
if Brenda and Erica hear this report as I heard it, knowing my sisters, I can
already guess their reaction. Brenda
will hit the roof, and Erica, since she is buddying up with Brenda, will likely
follow her lead.
I text the family to come back down to visit with mom more. We get in about another hour and then mom
needs her urostomy cleaned up. Knowing
the stench from this, I quickly shuffle the family back out of the room. I stay.
Brenda, Erica, and Kaitlyn arrive about 2:30 or 3:00. Erica has the folder with funeral
arrangements; however, there are no specific instructions, just a few poems,
bible verses, and song suggestions that mom likes. Erica asks mom about who she would like to
officiate over the funeral ceremony and there is some discussion before she
opts for Brenda’s suggestion, a preacher who is evidently somewhat familiar
with mom somehow. Erica asks mom which
funeral home she would prefer and mom opts for the same place used for dad’s
funeral. Mom waves Kaitlyn over to her
and hugs her. They break down in sobs and
mom apologizes for the dire prognosis and reminds Kaitlyn of how much she loves
her. Brenda and Erica cry and I’m
fighting the tears back. Erica presents
a card to mom made special by her daughter, Rachael. Again, everyone is crying and
I’m, again, fighting back tears.
It’s about 3:15 and I know my family is long past hungry so I text
them to come down and say goodbye.
They enter and make their way around the room, hugging mom
goodbye, and Brenda stops each one to pass out hugs. Brenda is either well over our drama from the
hotel stay or putting on a really good front.
Either way, it’s a relief. Erica is still not speaking to me. When I say
anything, she refuses to even look in my direction. Her head is cocked as if to
intentionally snub me. I’m trying to take the high road and treat her as if we
can have an argument but we can get over it like adults, but times like these frustrate
me all over again and I really do want to yell at her. I’ve sent her text
messages here and there about mom, and reminding her that I loved her (with no
reply). I’ve had talks with her on the
phone a couple times at most, but something in her voice told me she was still
angry and only speaking with me because she felt she had to. Brenda’s impressed with how much Wolfie has grown
– he’s taller than me and giving Aaron some competition finally. As I leave, I hug Brenda, Kaitlyn, and then
grab Erica by the wrist forcing her up and into a hug. I squeeze her tightly
only to find out later that she’d made a face behind my back (I can imagine her
quite clearing doing her rolling of the eyes thing).
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