How quickly things change. Sunday afternoon we drove home from a quick trip to Atlanta for Julia’s spring break, having visited the aquarium and the zoo. Sunday evening I drove to the hospital where my mom had taken herself early that morning thinking she was having a heart attack.
She’d been feeling bad for a while, to be honest. Lethargy, lack of energy, poor sleep, vomiting and some lack of appetite. She chalked it up to drug interactions or just simple aging. The pain was fairly new, though, in the upper right of the abdomen and chest radiating back. Sunday morning it grew to be unbearable and that’s when she went in. They hooked her up to monitors and decided that her heart was fine, but they admitted her and started running tests. An MRI showed something on her liver. The heart specialists bowed out and the GI people — and oncologists — were called in. Further clarification revealed that it was cancer in the liver and that it had metastasized from elsewhere. Now we needed to find the primary.
The oncologist was actually optimistic, assuming that statistically it was going to be something in the colon and that it was going to be treatable. That gave us some measure of optimism, too. They decided they wanted an endoscopy and colonoscopy so Tuesday was spent prepping for that on Wednesday morning. We waited for results all Wednesday and had some pictures from her innards and the nurse noted that the endoscopy showed some sort of mass in the stomach. My stomach dropped.
I’m not a medical expert but I try to keep aware of various things so I knew that things were turning for the worse. I did some preliminary research and confirmed what I’d thought: cancers of the stomach are traditionally caught late. It metastasizes roughly 80 to 90% of the time because it’s so hard to diagnose. There typically is no cure. I didn’t share this with mom, there was no point. Until we knew more — and bearing in mind we still don’t know everything even as I type this — it would be needlessly depressing.
Thursday we saw the doctor. Yes, the mass in the stomach is almost certainly the primary cancer. Surgery is not an option at this point because the mass in the stomach is large and the liver is engaged in both lobes. Chemo and possible radiation is the best course of treatment to try to shrink it down and keep her quality of life good, otherwise the tumor could block the exit of the stomach and make it impossible to get nourishment.
We don’t have a prognosis. We have no idea how long she has left with us. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time and be thankful that she’s so near us.
I hate cancer. It took my dad in 2005 and now apparently set its gaze on my mom. I’m most sad for her. This is not what I want for my mom who gave of herself for her entire life and during the time in her life when she should be doing all the things she hadn’t been able to do gets faced with this. It’s hard to come to terms with precisely how unfair it is for a woman this kind and giving to have this burden placed on her.
Today is her 76th birthday. Happy birthday, Mom. We also have to figure out how to tell Julia. Life does bring challenges.
2 Responses to “Another day, another turning point”
Oh baby, I’m so sorry. My thoughts are with you, your mom and your family. Big hugs. -DuckiDeva
Wow. I’m stunned. Sorry to hear about your Mom. I hope she beats the odds and makes a full recovery.