An Ode to my Mother

 

I flew to Baltimore that last Sunday  that I spent with you

And I remember your eyes looking up in a corner of the room

Were you seeing  the angels?

Were they helping you to  Prepare  to leave

My brothers left me alone with you

And I read from the gospel of John

Telling you that I had read this to Dad at the end

And you said I KNOW

IN MY FATHERS HOUSE THERE ARE MANY ROOMS

I GO TO PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU

We both found comfort in those familiar words

I  was at peace the next morning when I witnessed your last breath

I held my brothers hands as I prayed over your body

 NOw 25 years later I ponder that time and those words

Was there a place prepared for you? For Dad?

What is that place and where are you now?

Are you with Dad? Are you with Ellen? Are you with Jesus?

Are you the one that is strengthening me as I face the the challenge of the cancer that ended your life

Are you reminding me that I don’t go through this alone?

You went ahead and prepared the way

You showed that we just do what we have to do

Live with chemo, live with uncertainty, 

losing hair, wearing wigs, living with fatigue, constipation, neuropathy

The ca 125 numbers that go up and down and up again

Living with hope and despair and trusting in the next chemo or clinical trial

I wish I had understood how heroic you were going through it all miles from family especially after dad died

I wish I had known what questions to ask

I wish I had listened more

I hope that you know how often I think of you with pride and gratitude

I am your daughter and so much of my grit and sense of responsibility comes from you.

Do you hear me? Do you Feel my love? I hope so

And there's always something else. Play it again Sam

It seems like John and I are taking turns.  I am doing well as my "numbers" keep dropping.  My CA 125 is down to 71 from 92 last time.  The chemo every three weeks is just a part of my life at this point.  I am pretty tired for a couple days afterward, but otherwise I am living my best life. 

John fell at Costco on Tuesday afternoon while trying to lift bottles of water.  He landed face first on concrete and miraculously did not have a brain bleed or broken teeth or nose or anything like that.  We went to the emergency room and he did and does have a lot of bruising.  He really looks like a raccoon with purple circling his eyes.  We went to his doctor later in the week who told him he looks bad and it will last for about 4 weeks!  Happy Thanksgiving!

 Meanwhile this weekend he is preparing for a colonoscopy Monday to determine if the BCell Lymphoma is in his system and not just on his forehead.  Tuesday he is scheduled to begin four weeks of daily radiation on his forehead.  It is not fun to be him right now.

This means daily trips - Monday through Friday - to the James hospital for both of us.  Last January I was doing that visiting him during the four weeks he was in the hospital following the brain bleed.  

 Meanwhile we are slogging through this.  Right now he is out to lunch with a friend whom he didn't warn about his colorful face.  Should be interesting.  

I am just grateful for the ongoing blessings of my life - I get to play pickleball, we enjoy watching OSU Football together every Saturday, I continue to do a little spiritual direction and we both look forward to Thanksgiving at Hocking Hills with the whole family.  

There's always something else - something challenging and something comforting, something to get through and something to look forward to.  There's always something else.

 Life really is an adventure. 

What a difference a year makes!

This time a year ago I was recovering from surgery.  The surgery happened in mid October.  It was supposed to be seven hours long - including a total hyterectomy and an application of warm chemo after the surgery.  It lasted less than an hour as the cancer was too extensive and the doctor said I needed more chemo.

In the aftermath I felt pretty hopeless.  I was also potentially looking at having an ileostomy which every time I talked about it at first I would cry.  I eventually saw a doctor who explained to me and I prepared myself emotionally for it.  Thank God it didn't have to happen.  Thank God.

Now, a year later I have had the second surgery which was successful and I think 18 chemo infusions.  I now have a port which makes that easier.  I also - for the last five months have watched my "numbers" drop from 400 to 92 which is good.  I am now on elahare which as a potential side effect of blurry vision - which I don't have.  The only problem is the neuropathy which so far is manageable.  That is, I can still play pickleball.

 I had given up teaching a Bible study at church last winter because of the surgery and that has been resumed.  I was able to go on vacation to North Carolina twice to see my brothers and to Michigan with the girls and grandkids.  

And so, I live in gratitude aware of how far I have come and the blessings that have been mine throughout a difficult year.  At this point everything seems so much better.  My beloved Dr. Backes said that she was in a conference in Germany in which they are clearly devoloping more  and better chemos.  So, when and if this Elahare does not work there will be other options.  A year ago my future seemed much less bright than it does now.  

What I have learned from this year is really three things:

1. I do not know.  I do not know what the future is going to bring.  Both Good and Bad

2.  I need to enjoy and savor the blessings of this day.  Because I do not know what the future brings

3.  All  will ultimately be well.

These are hardly new ideas - but I share them anyway.

God is good - all the time!