Mums Update
About a week and a half ago, Mums had her last surgery to scrape out what's left of the cancer cells. Due to the lumpectomy in November turning into a horror show, Mom was nervous. I was nervous. Dad was probably nervous, but he doesn't talk much.
The surgery went well, though a drain had to be put in (this was not planned). Drains are an icky pain in the arse, but I'm certain it was the right move. Anything to avoid another hematoma, amirite?
I called the next morning, assuming I'd talk to Dad and hear all about how awful her first night was. Surprise! A perky Mums got on the phone and perkily informed me how great she felt, all things considered, and we started to optimistically reopen the possibility of her coming out at the end of the month for Charlotte's birthday, as previously planned.
Pathology results came early, and . . . . Mums is officially cancer-free. I'll wait while you applaud.
Radiation comes next, which we are delaying just a tad because . . . Mums is coming to Maryland after all! (You may applaud again.)
I don't know much about lumpectomies, but I sort of feel like this last surgery was more how the first one should've gone. But who knows. Honestly, I just didn't think lumpectomies were much of a big deal. Frankly, I didn't think breast cancer was a terribly big deal, what with its high cure rate and all, up until MY mother got it. And this is despite knowing several women who have fought yet were ultimately claimed by it.
Oh, I have been schooled these past few months. During the super crappy, high-drama days in November, I could not believe my eyes. There are scenes that will forever be imprinted on the minds of Dad and me. We were the only witnesses. Mom has no memory of a lot that happened, which I prefer. There was a point when Dad and I looked at each other, wide-eyed: why are her eyes rolled back? why is she making that sound? are we watching her die? And other scenes I can't write about.
Or the bodily aspect, and all the vulnerabilities it exposes. As I told my girlfriends, breast cancer is horrible and ugly. Yes, Mom had things go terribly wrong, and even though she was the one who had to endure, I sort of wonder if she realizes how bad they got. Cluster-eff does not even begin to describe it. As I've talked with her about certain aspects, she really doesn't remember a lot of the worst stuff. It's better this way. Similar to Charlotte's awful time in the hospital at 8 months old---she has no memory of it. And that's best.
So, this January surgery was, comparably, a walk in the park. The pathology result was the best possible result, FINALLY. Radiation is the next hurdle, followed by plastic surgery to even up the girls. (Remember, a LOT of tissue was removed.)
And then? Onward, to life as usual.
The surgery went well, though a drain had to be put in (this was not planned). Drains are an icky pain in the arse, but I'm certain it was the right move. Anything to avoid another hematoma, amirite?
I called the next morning, assuming I'd talk to Dad and hear all about how awful her first night was. Surprise! A perky Mums got on the phone and perkily informed me how great she felt, all things considered, and we started to optimistically reopen the possibility of her coming out at the end of the month for Charlotte's birthday, as previously planned.
Pathology results came early, and . . . . Mums is officially cancer-free. I'll wait while you applaud.
Radiation comes next, which we are delaying just a tad because . . . Mums is coming to Maryland after all! (You may applaud again.)
I don't know much about lumpectomies, but I sort of feel like this last surgery was more how the first one should've gone. But who knows. Honestly, I just didn't think lumpectomies were much of a big deal. Frankly, I didn't think breast cancer was a terribly big deal, what with its high cure rate and all, up until MY mother got it. And this is despite knowing several women who have fought yet were ultimately claimed by it.
Oh, I have been schooled these past few months. During the super crappy, high-drama days in November, I could not believe my eyes. There are scenes that will forever be imprinted on the minds of Dad and me. We were the only witnesses. Mom has no memory of a lot that happened, which I prefer. There was a point when Dad and I looked at each other, wide-eyed: why are her eyes rolled back? why is she making that sound? are we watching her die? And other scenes I can't write about.
Or the bodily aspect, and all the vulnerabilities it exposes. As I told my girlfriends, breast cancer is horrible and ugly. Yes, Mom had things go terribly wrong, and even though she was the one who had to endure, I sort of wonder if she realizes how bad they got. Cluster-eff does not even begin to describe it. As I've talked with her about certain aspects, she really doesn't remember a lot of the worst stuff. It's better this way. Similar to Charlotte's awful time in the hospital at 8 months old---she has no memory of it. And that's best.
So, this January surgery was, comparably, a walk in the park. The pathology result was the best possible result, FINALLY. Radiation is the next hurdle, followed by plastic surgery to even up the girls. (Remember, a LOT of tissue was removed.)
And then? Onward, to life as usual.
Comments
Post a Comment