The biggest battle ever fought on American Soil was at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Last month we visited Gettysburg and I wrote about this gruesome battle. This week I’ll be writing about another battle. A different sort of battle.
Mom’s Biggest Battle
Mom is confronting a vicious beast: Pancreatic Cancer. This is the sort of battle which is lost before it even begins. There are no tests for early detection. For Mom, this is a battle against stage four pancreatic cancer. A battle I have now faced twice: Hali’s Dad, Our Mom.
This is our Mom. She has never spent a night in the hospital, up until a month ago. And that “first time,” was ten nights.
September 23rd was my Mom’s 80th birthday, and she was HOME. So we celebrated. We ate cake & ice cream. We met new and old friends. All wished Mom a Happy Birthday.
This is us: Michael, Lori, Vicki, David. We are Mom’s children. David passed away seven years ago.
Lori is a nurse. She’s had a career in dealing with cancer patients. She’s seen it all. Understands there is no good news here.
Vicki was here nearly six weeks. She was with Mom through the various tests, pokes, and procedures to keep us all current on Mom’s condition. Nothing was positive.
I am Michael. I do not like hospitals. Admittedly, I suffer from white coat syndrome. I had seen the pains of pancreatic cancer seventeen years ago, with Hali’s Dad. One of my strongest memories was how yellow Karl was when he was sick. Today, on Mom’s 80th birthday, her face was yellow. Mom doesn’t look good in yellow.
Pretty sure everyone that came in for a hug to wish her a Happy Birthday noticed Mom doesn’t look good in yellow either. Mom didn’t notice. These were her friends wishing her a Happy Birthday. She has lots of friends. It was a good day for Mom. From here on out there will be good days and bad days. Until there are no days left.
No, we didn’t lay down. We got together. The closest we’ve been together in years. We needed each other and had to make, what to this day will be the biggest decision in our lives.
Does Mom go on for further treatment?
The next night, while Mom was lucid, the four of us got together, close together. Talked. Talked about the nature of this beast, any procedures moving forward, and we talked about us. The four of us. What will soon be, the three of us. Mom was grateful for the unanimous decision. At peace.
When Mom got up the next morning at 5:30 to go swimming, I knew she was resolved. Life is good, just growing shorter.
The three of us will get closer, enjoy Mom for the next few weeks or so, be positive, and know that not only did we make a good decision, we made the right decision.
You see, for Mom, she never wanted it to be about her. She has comfort knowing that we understand that it needs to be about three of us: Lori, Michael, and Vicki.
Mom will be all right. She has many, many friends. AND, MOM BELIEVES!