Saying Goodbye, Part 3: Fighting for Survival

Mom began treatment for her Stage IV metastatic breast cancer at the beginning of May, 2013. Radiation was used to treat a rib, the cause of her chest pain mentioned in the previous post, that had basically fell apart due to the cancer cells inside of it. Other than that, her treatment consisted of chemotherapy. These treatments, as many unfortunately know, fall under the category of medicine that comes on the informational packets on pharmacy prescriptions: 'your doctor has prescribed this medication because the benefits outweigh the potential side-effects.' Both of them are brutal. Mom had experienced radiation before so it wasn't new to her, but she managed to develop a staph infection on her back where they had used the radiation whilst undergoing chemo. My father, my Mom's primary caretaker, lovingly tended to her wound and fortunately the infection healed.

Chemotherapy is a different and much more difficult beast. There are about a million different complications that can arise from treatment and my family was very watchful for signs of potential side-effects that my Mom could have. It breaks my heart to recall the memory, but I remember when I saw my Mom right after the diagnosis, she decided to get her haircut. She said "I will probably lose my hair anyway, but I still want to feel good!" with a smile. Indeed, she did lose her hair. Her body seemed to react to the chemo in a predictable pattern: she felt good the day of treatment, felt great the day after treatment and crashed the next several days until about the week after treatment. Her appetite was greatly diminished. A diabetic, her blood sugar levels were all over the place. However, the lack of appetite contributed to weight loss which, ironically, helped regulate her blood sugar. She was very proud of the weight loss.

As mentioned in the previous post, Mom was bravest out of all of us. However, I think that internally she was skeptical of how successful treatment would be. At the end of August, my parents hosted their annual joint-birthday bash. While the mood was outwardly celebratory, I think most attendees, including my Mom, knew that it would be the last party. A few days later in September, she called me in the middle of the night and asked me to call her back when I got the chance. Of course, I was a wreck when I heard the message and called her back right away. She had called to tell me that the first round of chemo hadn't worked; they would try a stronger medicine. I think she was really calling to tell me that she wasn't going to be around for much longer. I recall her saying something about being worried about my sister, my Dad and myself after she was gone. Of course, I wasn't having any of that and shooed it away with my naive optimism: "I'm sure this treatment will work much better." I even looked it up online and sent her information to reassure all of us that it was going to work this time. I'm not sure who I was trying to convince: me or her.

Around the same time,  Mom submitted to my Father's request for a second opinion and made an appointment at Dana-Farber in Boston. After submitting enough paperwork and records for a small novel, my Mom, my family and I went to her appointment in Boston. It took most of the day for Mom to be checked in; she didn't see the doctor until mid-afternoon. Her doctor both thoroughly and without feeling explained that there was nothing more that she would suggest for treatment than the course prescribed by Mom's local oncologist. Needless to say,  we were disappointed but not surprised. The doctor did express surprise that Mom was not prescribed a hormonal medication after her cancer had gone into remission the first time. Would that have made a difference? We will never know.

Of course, the new treatment didn't work either. However, Mom was feeling pretty good in her last few months. Her hair started growing back; it had the feel of a baby chicken! It made her cautiously optimistic but she treated it as potential sign that the chemo wasn't working. My Aunt was able to visit with her for a week in October. I regret not joining them,  but it sounds like they had some quality sister time when not watching the Red Sox in the World Series. The final qualtity time that I spent with my Mom was around Veteran's Day 2013, which happened to fall around a weekend. We had a "chemo date" and Dad and I went to see my high school football team play in the state championship. It was a glorious Fall weekend, complete with crisp weather and Mom’s homemade pumpkin cream cheese cupcakes. It felt like old times. Unfortunately, it was the last bit of normalcy that we would have together. 

Saying Goodbye, Part 4: The Beginning of the End

My last trip to see my Mom around Veteran's Day Weekend 2013 was really good and, most importantly, Mom seemed to be feeling better. She even wrote to everyone of her "Pink Ribbon Talk" followers, for what turned out to be the last time, that she was at a "turn in the road" and that she seemed to be getting better. Tragically, she was right about being at a turn in the road, but in the opposite direction.

Scott and I went to see my family for Thanksgiving; due to the weather, we weren't able to travel to Vermont until Thanksgiving Day. When I saw Mom that day, I knew something was wrong; I was shocked to see how yellow her skin was, though it seemed that I was the only one who noticed it. Only a week before, she was asking me about what we wanted for dinners and planned a special dinner to accommodate Scott's low-carb diet, but when we got there she did not have energy to do much of anything other than to sleep. For the actual dinner, she wasn't able to eat with us; she only had a piece of pie for dessert. She had had a few "lows" previously during treatment so we all thought or wanted to think that this was just another low and she'd come out of it in a few days. 

That weekend happened to be Scott's 30th birthday and I had made plans for the day so we could not stay in Vermont. Early in the morning of when we were about to leave, we woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Mom yelling; she had fallen on the floor on her way from her bed to the bathroom just off of her bedroom. This had happened a few times before in the preceding months. We rushed into her room to try to get her up, to no avail. Eventually, we were all up and decided to call the local Fire Department to help. I had to help her change since her nightgown was now dirty; it is a very sobering experience having to change your own mother, as she did for you when you were little. Unfortunately, most of us will experience this, though I would rather do it than have a stranger do it. Help arrived and they were able to help her back into bed; we all went back to sleep. When we woke up later and packed the car to head back to Maine, I went into her room to say goodbye. Probably one of the last coherent exchanges that I ever had with my Mom was this one, where she apologized for all of it. It was heartbreaking. 

Saying Goodbye, Part 2: Mystery Diagnosis and Living with Stage IV Cancer

Between the beginning of 2009 and 2013, a lot of living happened. My family dealt with other health crises, I went through a huge breakup, started a new relationship, moved to DC and back. I started attending the School of International Service at American University in Washington, DC in August 2009. I completed my Master's in International Studies in May 2011 and moved back to Maine in November 2012. The DC chapter of my life was an eventful and enjoyable one. During my time there, I went to Japan twice, went to Europe once, reconnected with good friends from New England, made new friends, interned for a non-profit, learned Korean and of course, earned my degree. My parents visited at least once a year, including for my AU graduation. It is funny and sad in that I remember feeling so annoyed during their visits, particularly my Mother, and yet I treasure those times so much now. I wish I hadn't wasted the time feeling annoyed and stressed and instead just enjoyed their visit. I am so grateful that my parents were able to be there for my graduation; it was stressful at the time, but knowing that my parents got to witness such an important event for me I will treasure forever.

I moved back to Maine in November 2012. My parents drove down to VA in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy to help us move. The four of us and our dog Studley hauled all of the belongs that we had acquired in our 3 years in VA back to Maine over the course of 2 days. It was stressful and makes for a good story, to say the least. No one died, we got back in one piece and I will never move all of my stuff such a long distance again. Consequently, it was also the last road trip that I would ever take with my Mom. We would never have been able to move back to Maine/New England if it weren't for my parents, or Scott's family. We moved in with Scott's brother and sister-in-law for about 3 months and managed to find jobs and rented a house. My Mother never got a chance to visit our house in Maine.

In March of 2013, Mom decided to run for a position in the local government of our hometown in Vermont. Mom loved local politics and was very excited about her run for office. About a week or two before the election, headaches that my Mom had been having since the beginning of the year became so bad that she felt that she needed to drop out of the race. I know that it broke her heart to do so, but she was happy with the candidate who won the election.

She went to her doctor for her headaches but not much was thought of them; headaches are a common ailment, after all. She had a clean cancer scan in Fall 2012 and was almost 4 and a half years cancer-free. Then, she developed a cough that would not go away and pain in her chest, which we all thought was related to the coughing. Again, her doctor checked her out, said that it was just a cold and not to worry. Fortunately for Mom, she was a great advocate for her own health and persisted in getting treatment.

In early May 2013, Mom had enough of feeling poorly and pushed the issue again with her doctor. Scans were done at the nearby hospital and Mom was sent home while the scans were reviewed. Shortly after Mom arrived home, her doctor called and told her that she needed to get to an ER right away; she had blood clots in her lungs. My parents immediately went to a very good hospital that was a little further away for treatment. More tests were performed and it was discovered that the spots on the scan were not blood clots but cancerous lesions. Shortly thereafter, Mom went back to the local hospital and PET scans were done that showed that there was cancer throughout her body; it was Stage IV, metastatic cancer. Apparently, her breast cancer had returned with a vengeance. The chest pain and cough were caused by cancer cells around her lungs and in her ribs. Most ominously, she also had small tumors in her liver.

From the onset, my Mom was the bravest out of all of us. She famously said "I have beat cancer once and I can beat it again." The doctors said that while it was not curable, she had about another 2-3 years. Looking back on it, we would have gladly taken that estimate. We were devastated by the projected brevity of her days. We all coped with it in our separate ways: taking it as the cold, hard truth, denying the reality of the situation, and being optimistic almost to a fault. Somedays it was a combination of all of those things. Meanwhile, my Mom was all business: updating her will, going to treatment and getting stuff done around the house.

I happened to begin individual therapy on the day my Mom was diagnosed with Stage IV, purely by coincidence (if you believe in that). I struggled greatly with accepting the "new normal"; one day my parents were supposed to come visit us in Maine, the next day my Mom had Stage IV cancer and was fighting for her life. It was hard to realize that things could never be the way they were before, no matter how successful the treatment. Through therapy, I realized that the best thing that I could do was to spend time with my Mom. If I had to do it again, I would have spent even more time with her.

We didn't try to do anything "epic" like try to take a trip or go skydiving, those "bucket-list" activities that people try to do before they die. Part of the reason was that we always said "when the cancer goes into remission, we'll do 'x'"; we saved things for when Mom was done with treatment and would be feeling better. Truthfully, I don't think I regret not doing those saved things as Mom wasn't feeling well and never felt well again. I do however regret not doing them BEFORE her cancer returned.

The other reason was that I simply wanted to spend time with her. Whenever I went home, I was always spending time with my other family members. I know that this helped Mom in a way; she got some alone time and felt good that I was spending time with my Dad or sister. Rarely did I spend time with just her. After her cancer came back, we started an adult friendship that we had not previously enjoyed. Back in VA, my Mom had given me a kitschy magnet that said "a daughter is just a little girl who grows up to be your best friend." I think I scoffed at it when she gave it to me, but through this experience I realized that it was true: she was one of my best friends. We did things that best friends did on our days together, which would go something like: doctor's appointment, thrift store shopping, lunch at Panera, round of chemo, pick up some groceries, go home. It felt glorious and normal at the same time. And we had a great time, even more fun than skydiving. 

Saying Goodbye, Part 1: Stage 1 and Remission

As most people close to me know, I lost my Mom to Stage 4 breast cancer on 12/9/13. I have written about it a little in my post Wasn't Supposed to Happen but nothing at length publicly. I have thought a lot about it: life, death, my Mom, other people who have passed, cancer, womanhood, the past, the present, the future and all that could have been. It's been about 9 months since my Mom died and I am finally ready to put the experience in words. Even now, writing the words "...since my Mom died" is strange to me, even uncomfortable. While trying to figure out how to put the experience on paper, I've also been trying to figure out where to start. Some advice about losing a loved one? Advice about having a loved one with terminal cancer? Let me just start by detailing her life with cancer and our life with her cancer.

My Mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in the Fall of 2008. As was typical of my Mom, she told me about about it in a phone conversation in a kind of matter-of-fact way: I have Stage 1 breast cancer. Shortly after my Mom turned 61 in August of that year, she decided on a whim to have a mammogram; she wasn't scheduled for it, she just decided that it would be a good idea. Sure enough, they found a tumor about the size of a chickpea that turned out to be malignant. Her doctors removed the mass and she went through radiation over the course of several weeks. It's difficult to remember because, as was also typical of my Mom, she didn't make a big deal out of it. Phone conversations during that time probably went something like "Today I got my nails done, got radiation, went grocery shoppping, came home and took a nap and made dinner": the radiation was just another errand on her list. The treatment worked and she was in remission not too long after that.

Mom was in remission from about the beginning of 2009 until May of 2013. During that time, all of us except for Mom really forgot about her cancer. I never identitified with the various breast cancer-awareness paraphrenilia or events. I often forgot that my Mom was a breast cancer survivor. It was always like "oh, yeah, Mom had cancer once." I guess we took it for granted that cancer was no longer a part of our lives. But, Mom did not forget. She did buy us pink ribbon paraphenalia. She also bought my sister and I the same book for Christmas in 2008: Things I Want My Daughters to Know. The book is about a woman dying of cancer and her relationship with her daughters during her life and after her death. My Mom each wrote personal messages to Whitney and I in the front covers of our books. At the time, I kind of put it aside as I thought there was no way my Mom would die of cancer, especially since her treatment seemed to be going so well. Little did I know that I would come to treasure that book and her inscription 5 years down the road.

Jury Duties

I was summoned for jury duty for the first time in my life at the beginning of July. After 8 hours of limited Internet access and sitting in uncomfortable court pews, I was selected to serve on a jury for a murder trial. Jury duty is one of the most intense and unique experiences I have ever had. I have not witnessed anything like it. Here is a summary of what I learned from my experience:

1. Jurors have little to no control over their schedule while they are in court. It is impossible to plan further than tomorrow. You don't find out what time you're due at court the next day until the end of the day.

2. Jury duty is about 'hurrying up and waiting'. If you have been told to be in the jury room at 8:30, you will not be summoned into the court room until at least 9:30. If you are told to be back from lunch at 1, you will not be summoned until 1:30.

3. If a sidebar is called where the judge and the attorneys talk about something that is not meant for the jury to hear, a 15 minute break at least is likely to follow. If not, the jury needs to try not to hear the attorneys quietly yelling at each and try to look as despondent as possible. Laughing is a no-no, apparently.

4. Water is a commodity- bring your own!

5. Jury seats are uncomfortable, but more comfortable than the pews in the courtroom. Bring a pillow!

6. Jurors love donuts and other free food! Bring some in to score brownie points with your fellow jurors.

7. Defense attorneys have a hard job. Prosecutors have an even harder job. It is so difficult getting witnesses to be truthful and consistent. Try not to end up on the witness stand.

8. People on juries are chosen by a combination of random and not-so-random selection. There are probably people on the jury that one would never associate with in 'real' life. Enjoy it. 

Time to Get Cookin'!

It has been exactly half a year since my last post. It has been a hard 6 months, seeming to be both a long time and a short time. So much has happened; so many thoughts, so many things to say. One of the mantras that has helped me get by is "K.I.S.S." or "Keep It Simple, Stupid." In that vein, I am going to cover only one kind of light topic in this post.

As I've written previously, I really love to cook. It is satisfying in itself to create something, let alone when one is cooking for other people who enjoy the dish! As anyone who knows me probably knows or can deduce, I equally enjoy eating! I do not consider myself to be a "foodie", but I do feel like one can learn a lot about a place and a culture by its cuisine. I love to cook and eat ethnic foods in particular and this sentiment is doubly true of that!

The reason I bring this up is that a colleague of mine brought in a bunch of books she wanted to unload, including several cookbooks. I have acquired about half of my cookbooks in such a situation. Of course, I could not resist adding to my collection and I grabbed a lovely cookbook on Mexican cuisine. Most of my family and friends would never guess it based on my interest and travels to Asia and Europe, but Mexican cuisine is my absolute favorite! The spices, the cheese, the citrus, the meat, the unique flavor combinations- I love it all! Immediately upon acquiring said cookbook, I bookmarked about a quarter of the book with all of the recipes I want to try.

The crux of this post is this: my colleague and I started talking about how we never use our cookbooks, hence the reason why she was giving them away. There is never enough time to cook for the sake of cooking; it is a frivolous use of time. Looking recipes up online is much more convenient; one can look for exactly what they want and can get the recipe instantaneously.  As Americans living in the 21st century, aren't we all about instant gratification? But there is something romantic about using a cookbook that Internet recipes cannot provide. There's just something special about cooking out of a book that someone compiled just for the sake of food. It is even more special when the book is secondhand; which recipes did the other person try?

On that note, I have decided to institute a new plan for myself. One day a weekend (with the exception of weekends where I am not home), I am going to cook a recipe from a cookbook. It is a hobby that deserves a devoted time. Cooking more often is always a resolution that I have and I never follow through with it. This weekend, I will obviously be cooking out of I new cookbook. I am hoping to try the cerviche but we'll see. It will be an advet that I am happy to take!

Wasn't Supposed to Happen

My Mom passed away suddenly/unexpectedly after fighting metastatic breast cancer 2 weeks ago. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Mom was supposed to live into her 80s like her Mom, not die at 66. I was supposed to have a family of my own before she died, not to be without a mother as an unmarried 28 year old. We were supposed to go to Jamaica next year like we had always dreamed; I wasn't supposed to witness my Mom's death a week before my 29th birthday. She was supposed to be at my wedding and meet my children. Mom fought adversity her whole life; life was supposed to cut her a break. Terminal illness happened to other people; it wasn't supposed to happen to my family. Not my family, not my Mom. She fought cancer once and was about to be 5 years in remission; it wasn't supposed to come back and kill her.

Her doctors should have known that. She should have known that. The cancer should have known that. I guess sometimes life does not break the way it's supposed to.