By Monica Vest Wheeler
The good news was that I knew what to ask.
The bad news was that I knew what to ask.
Yet, when it comes to YOUR loved one … you need wading boots to avoid drowning in the puddles you’re creating with your tears and fears. You have no idea of the depths you’re walking.
All these years of encouraging patients and families to speak up and
advocate for themselves … and reminding medical professionals that they
need to listen more and ask heartfelt questions … paid off when my
mother and I entered that oncologist’s office for the first visit on
September 14.
The doctor and staff were beyond compassionate and knowledgable. We explored the knowns … orange-sized mass in right lung consistent with cancer … and unknowns … exactly what type of cancer, explanation of chemo and radiation options down the road … and life expectancy.
And then you turn your life over to paperwork, the calendar and other people’s schedules … and endless scenarios and uncertainty.
We automatically ask, “What can I do?” or “What should I do?”
Yes, I asked myself that as if on cue, but then I suddenly realized the deeper meaning, “What lesson am I supposed to learn from this and what am I supposed to do with it?”
Silly me, the hopeless philosopher …
On the phone eight days later, Mom said, “I hope this isn’t a waste of time and energy for you.” I was not surprised at her statement though reassured her it wasn’t a waste of MY time and energy.
After then saying in a cold, emotionless voice that she could go to a MRI by herself, I said I know she can, only that I wanted to keep everything on my calendar so I was prepared. Ten minutes later, she called and apologized for hurting me. I said I understand, but she said I didn’t. I explained that I understood that she’s being thrust into a whirlwind of activities and people she didn’t want. She didn’t disagree, which was a plus.
This was extremely hard on a fiercely independent woman who had always wanted to do it HER way. I had to keep reminding myself of that fact and that it was not going to be an easy road for either of us … with a river of tears in our path.
And I gave the tissue industry far too much business in October when we heard the test results: non-small cell lung cancer, a tumor on the left side of her neck that caused all the left shoulder and arm pain … and two brain tumors.
The oncologist — bless his heart — explained all the options and how it was her choice on how to proceed.
“Do you want to go hard at it?” he asked.
“I want to stay as active as I can.”
“One thing at a time,” he reassured us.
Yes, all we could and can do.
Order up … one day at a time … with a side of tissues for the daughter ….
The doctor and staff were beyond compassionate and knowledgable. We explored the knowns … orange-sized mass in right lung consistent with cancer … and unknowns … exactly what type of cancer, explanation of chemo and radiation options down the road … and life expectancy.
And then you turn your life over to paperwork, the calendar and other people’s schedules … and endless scenarios and uncertainty.
We automatically ask, “What can I do?” or “What should I do?”
Yes, I asked myself that as if on cue, but then I suddenly realized the deeper meaning, “What lesson am I supposed to learn from this and what am I supposed to do with it?”
Silly me, the hopeless philosopher …
On the phone eight days later, Mom said, “I hope this isn’t a waste of time and energy for you.” I was not surprised at her statement though reassured her it wasn’t a waste of MY time and energy.
After then saying in a cold, emotionless voice that she could go to a MRI by herself, I said I know she can, only that I wanted to keep everything on my calendar so I was prepared. Ten minutes later, she called and apologized for hurting me. I said I understand, but she said I didn’t. I explained that I understood that she’s being thrust into a whirlwind of activities and people she didn’t want. She didn’t disagree, which was a plus.
This was extremely hard on a fiercely independent woman who had always wanted to do it HER way. I had to keep reminding myself of that fact and that it was not going to be an easy road for either of us … with a river of tears in our path.
And I gave the tissue industry far too much business in October when we heard the test results: non-small cell lung cancer, a tumor on the left side of her neck that caused all the left shoulder and arm pain … and two brain tumors.
The oncologist — bless his heart — explained all the options and how it was her choice on how to proceed.
“Do you want to go hard at it?” he asked.
“I want to stay as active as I can.”
“One thing at a time,” he reassured us.
Yes, all we could and can do.
Order up … one day at a time … with a side of tissues for the daughter ….
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