Finally towards the end of January 2010, I was finally healed up. I had a portacath placement surgery, which was the funnest surgery to date. I was in twilight sleep and kept waking myself up snoring. It really didn't hurt more than when you sleep wrong and your shoulder is sore. Meanwhile my mother had been having some pain in her side for months. One Dr told her she probably cracked a rib and to go home and tape it up. Finally a dr ordered a chest x-ray. She had a mass in her lung the size of a lemon. So while I was having my first chemo, she was having a biopsy.
First I want to discuss Chemo. Initially, besides some boredom, actually having it pumped into you isn't bad. I got to be close to my chemo nurse and it is hard to complain when you are relatively healthy and you see all these people on death's door. For about the first week following chemo I experienced massive indigestion, like when you eat cold greasy chicken and burp up that unpleasant taste. Also my skin on my face got red and uncomfortable. Not as bad as a sunburn but maybe like windburn. And it was rather waxy. I wasn't fully prepared for the joint pain and fatigue but it passed in a couple days. Fatigue was something I lived with every day of this journey but sometimes in those few days following each chemo I barely had enough strength to move a computer mouse. Basically it was 1 week feeling like crap, and 2 weeks recovering from feeling like crap. Then it started over again. However I had no nausea or vomiting during the first 3 of the 6 treatments.
My mother's first biopsy was inconclusive. I thought, well that means it probably isn't cancer or is only slightly cancerous or it would have shown up. I don't know if I was selfish, or just too full of my own battle, but I never for a moment worried about my mom during this stage. I had my head shaved in March once my hair started coming out in clumps. I enjoyed my hats and scarves. The wigs never felt natural. I actually didn't look all that bad bald, but still it was a shock and really hard on my self esteem. I didn't feel like a woman anymore. My eyebrows thinned and eventually fell out. Then my lashes. When my lashes came out that is when I was the most depressed. Mascara out of all cosmetics has always done the most for me. To this day, my lashes aren't as long and thick as they were before chemo.
In mid March, 2010, my mom had her second biopsy. I don't know if they told her more than she shared but she basically said it is cancer. I don't know anything else than that. Even then I didn't panic right away. Maybe she will go through treatment with me. Even if they can't cure it people have lived years in treatment. I just wanted some time. Some real time to be with her and say goodbye. But more than that, I needed time to instantly grow up and be responsible. I also was feeling some rather shameful feelings. I felt upstaged to a certain extent. I had cancer, and I couldn't be special and have that to myself. I was in a very weak state and here I now have to deal with the mortality of the most important person in my life. My dad and brother are very weak people and my mom was everyone's all in all.
It all came to a head around April 15th. That was D day. The day we would find out the worst. She had stage 3B Lung cancer. Statistically the 50% margin where 50% with that stage are alive and 50% are dead was 13 months. But that means 50 out of 100 are still alive. She could live years. I started the bargaining process with God. Give me 5 years please. I will get a job when chemo is over and I am stronger and I will figure things out. A lot can happen in 5 years. The rapture could happen...yes Lord, please rapture us before my mom dies. If that isn't in your plan please give me 3 years... 3 years would really help. This process went over and over in the months to come, but basically the main point was she was going to die, I was not. I so wanted it to be the other way around. I had to become strong even in the midst of something debilitating like chemotherapy. I was no longer the patient, even though I felt like it. I had to be the caregiver. That was not a role I wanted, but I was really all my mother had.
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