I thought it was time for Part II of my journey. The journey that forever changed my life. The journey that sent me into my downward spiral. The journey that still makes me cry as I start to type this part of the journey. Damn, this is harder than I thought.
We knew that there was something wrong. Something not good. We tried to go in for back surgery 2 times and both times they wouldn’t do it because of mom’s breathing. This cough was not going away. Finally, after 4 or 5 x-rays’, they thought there was something wrong with her heart. Ok, let’s move forward with an MRI. That’s when we found out. We found out what was causing the cough. A large tumor that had wrapped around her entire esophagus. We went in for a biopsy and waited so nervously for the results.
I remember so vividly that call. Yes, it is cancerous. It is stage 4. You have 6-12 months. I sat there in the grass on the hill outside of work and just bawled. I cried and cried until I got to talk with mom. She understood what was happening. She knew that this was not going to be an easy road. Maybe I’m not ready for this part. There have been several breaks where the tears in my eyes make the computer a complete haze. But, this is good for the soul and the mind. Just do it.
I am stumbling forward to tell this. I talked with mom and we cried together. Her only request, “I will go through treatment, but if I can’t do it anymore, can I stop?” That was hard for me. I don’t want to lose her and I want at least those 12 months. That’s my goal. But yes mom, it is your choice. If you can’t move forward, you can’t. It will always be your choice.
Mom was put on oxygen and sent to see an ENT doctor. He looked at the images and was completely astounded. He said that he has never seen something like this before. But he knew that he had to get in that throat. The tumor had grown through her esophagus. He said that mom could have a surgery and he would go in and clean out her throat. Of course, I was in Las Vegas for work and had two more days there. I sit in my hotel room, shaking and crying. What do I do? I’m traveling with my boss. But I know what I needed to do, so I find the next flight back and then drive for a little over an hour before finally getting to the hospital. The longest flight of my life. But, I was able to see mom post-surgery. Her breathing had improved, and she said she felt better. It was successful and I got to be home with her for a couple of days.
The following week we finally wait to go and see the Oncologist. 3 of the to be specific. All one by one asking questions and nonstop checking her vitals. Mom became very winded, and it was hard for her to catch her breath. The doctors came in and listened to her chest and then left. They came back and then left again. Finally, they come in and say, “were sending you to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.”
[Mom is totally going to mess with me for posting this. What else do you do when you are waiting, SnapChat filters]
[She was not impressed. She ripped my face mask. At least she laughed a little bit]
After a long ambulance ride, we were finally at the hospital. They had given mom Fentanyl to make the ride. I have never seen someone on that before, but it was hilarious. It was great to laugh in the midst of everything. I am not at all condoning the use of Fentanyl. It should only be used under extreme circumstances and under a doctors care. Although, I won’t forget that part. It tends to bring a smile to my face.
As soon as we get put into a room, we immediately have to transfer hospitals and Mom was going into surgery again. This time was agonizing. I sat there with some of my family around me and we waited nervously. It was nearly 5 hours that they were in there. The doctor finally came out to say that it was successful at clearing her airway again, but the tumor came back so quickly so they were concerned. We spent the night in the ICU.
So, this begins our stay in Rochester. Eight days in the hospital, 2 more surgeries and constant watch. It was painful for me. I hated seeing mom like this. I hate seeing her in pain. I hated to know the evitable. We’re going to do this. We’re going to be ok. Mom is such a strong woman. She can do this...
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