Cancer's a bitch, no matter what she's wearing

God! Every time I try and get into a routine posting, something happens to throw a wrench into my plans!

I have been trying to decide how best to write about what's been happening around here. I haven't really figured out the best way to do it yet. :-) So, I'll just treat this as I do most other things in my life. Be blunt. Be real. Speak truth.

In March of this year, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 lymphoma. She was fine one day, and couldn't breathe the next. There were a few very scary moments where I thought we would lose her for sure. (Let's just say, spending the night in the ER watching my mother unable to breathe is not the funnest experience.)

There are many reasons this whole thing threw me. Clearly, the primary reason is that my mother had Stage 4 cancer. Not good. I was also highly frustrated with my parents, who were not handling the situation the way I would have. There were many, many delays in diagnosis and treatment, partially because they chose not to make a big stink when they needed to. In any normal situation, my parents tend to do the opposite of what my advice is. This is nothing new. I was frustrated because I had travelled that road already. Fairly recently, actually. And I knew alot about what they could be doing and what they should be doing to get things moving. I will never understand why they made the decisions they did. But my friend K reminded me that this is my mother's journey, not mine, and that I had to let her make her own decisions about her treatment and care. I will forever be grateful to K for her wise words.

Of course, the diagnosis had me having flashbacks to my own experience. It was strange to be reliving my own experience just hearing the word "cancer." It never really is over, I guess. There will always be those lingering "what if's" and fears. Watching someone you love go through this is sooooo much harder than I realized. I always knew it was difficult, and at times told my husband that I at least could "fight" it with chemo, etc. He was left to watch helplessly, hoping that things turn out ok. How horrible is that??? Now, we're all watching mom.

She has gone from being tethered to an oxygen tank 24/7 to, after 2 chemos and her latest CT scan, most of her tumors in her lungs vanishing! Chemo is no picnic, for sure. And she still has days where things are not great. But, she's had some really good days. Normal days (minus a bit of hair.) She recently celebrated her 60th birthday, with lots of friends and family here to party the night away. My parents have so many friends here that when I put together a dinner calendar, it was nearly full in 3 days!

I find myself clinging to the statistics her oncologist gave us for her cancer, even though I've always shunned them for myself. I am not a statistic, I am me. I will beat the odds. Her "odds" of remission are 80%. Those are some great stats! Better than mine ever were.

So, we're trying to keep on with life as normal as possible. My kids are yet again smack dab in the middle of a very serious health situation. I hate that they have to experience this again! With my parents living a mile away, my kids get to spend alot of time with them. When we told the kids about grandma, my daughter fell into a puddle of tears and was very scared. My son told her everything would be fine, just like it was for me. I can tell he's got some fears, though, behind that strong facade. I'm still trying to get him to voice them.

If you've found yourself at the end of this post, I have just one thought to leave you with. Life can be short. Very short. With each and every day you get, remember to JUST LIVE!

It just brings it all back

Anyone else ever have flashbacks?

My daughter recently had pneumonia. We visited her doc, got her on antibiotics, and she got well.

Then End.

Except, not so much.

She was better, but after a few days of "being well" she started coughing again. And something about that cough just made my worry-center go into overdrive.

I'm not the type of Mommy who runs to the doctor at every little thing. In fact, I'm more like the Mommy who keeps telling her kids "You're fine!" all while wondering how much worse it will get before I break down and bring them in. Yep, report me to CPS.

After about a week of worrying about this child who never complains, I finally took her in to the urgent care. (It was the weekend, and of course I didn't want to wait 3 hours to see her regular doc, who may or may not be on call that weekend, and who most certainly is seeing a bunch of more sick kiddos than mine.) Because she'd already had pneumonia and a round of antibiotics, they wanted a chest x-ray to determine if there was residual infection or just irritation in the lungs. Bronchospasm, for you medical types.

Off we go, my little 7 year old's hand in mine, to the imaging room. Little did she know, I think I was more nervous to go there than her.

The sterility of that room is horrible. Necessary, but so unwelcoming.

The mass of the machines. The very clinical nature of it all.

I was having massive flashbacks to my first days of diagnosis, and all those tests! My heart was beating so hard I could swear my daughter could feel it through my hand. I could even feel a bit of perspiration coming on my brow. What was happening to me?

My poor daughter was hanging on to me for dear life. She was scared, never having experienced an x-ray like this before. The tech was doing her best to explain things in a way a 7 year old could understand, but was not quite hitting the mark.

Deep breaths. In. Out. Repeat. I had to be a calming presence for my little girl.

"Look at this camera! How weird would it be if Mommy had to carry that around to take pictures of you guys? And that lead skirt makes it hard to walk around, huh? This is just like getting your picture taken at home, except with this picture we get to see the inside of your chest. How cool is that?"

It went something like that. I think. I hope.

In any event, she calmed down and did a bang up job getting the x-rays done. And yep, sure enough, it showed residual infection in there. Bring on another round of antibiotics.

I'm nearly 5 years out from diagnosis, and I still find myself having mini-panic attacks whenever I am near a hospital or medical treatment room. The smells just bring it all back. I swear I can smell the chemo room every time I drive past the hospital in town, and my stomach does a flip.

But yeah, I'm nearly 5 years out. And I have gained some perspective on things. Thankfully, I've gained the ability to hide the fear so my little girl doesn't have to worry about me so much anymore. And that is worth more than most people will ever know.

Do you ever have flashbacks? What brings them on? How do you cope with them? Do you try and hide your fears from your kids, or do you talk about them? How do your kids handle your fears? I'd love to hear your thoughts, even if you've never had cancer. Everyone has fear.