I Want My Mommy!

How does one prepare for possible life-changing surgery?  It's the eve of Mom's open heart surgery and, although she seems pretty calm, I'm feeling very unsettled.  This afternoon, Mom showed me where she keeps important papers, "...in the event of my demise."  Ack!  But she also assured me, "I'm not throwing in the towel yet."

We bought Mom a cell phone (her first), so she knows she can contact us at any time.  Just a bit ago we sat down for a lesson, and reviewed the cheat sheet I wrote up with basic instructions.

Clearly, my mother is in a place where she is prepared to take things as they come.  She has trust in her medical professionals, and in her own will to carry on.  "No one has more interest in my recovery than I", she reminded me this morning.

It will be a long day at the hospital tomorrow, beginning with our check-in at 5:00am.  The surgery itself is scheduled for 8:45, and will take several hours.  Althea and I will be there waiting for news.  We've already been warned that, at first, there will be multiple tubes and monitors attached, and that Mom will be sedated and restrained to insure she stays hooked up.  I am already dreading seeing her like that.  We expect the first few days to be...difficult, exhausting, and stressful.

When you go through something like this with a parent, it's impossible not to obsess a little about how your own old age might unfold.  What body parts or functions will fail first?  How will we respond?  Do we have the will to carry on through disabilities?  OK, now I'll be staring at the ceiling tonight when I go to bed.

I know; it's the Circle of Life - but I still want my Mommy!  Please say a prayer or two for us tonight and tomorrow.

Healing at Home - Chapter 4 of My Cancer Story

This post is the 4th in a series describing my journey with Colon Cancer 10 years ago. If you haven’t read the previous installments, see the Blog Archive listing in the column on the right for the hyperlinks.

It’s been a week since my surgery, and I am going home. Ron helps me from the wheelchair by the curb at the hospital entrance into our own car for the five minute drive to our house. I’m shuffling around slowly like an old lady, but at least I am ambulatory.

Wow, how marvelous it is to be home! My job now is to get stronger and continue the healing from the surgery. I still have staples in my stomach, which makes me feel very vulnerable – as though my guts could tumble on the floor if I make a wrong move. Sounds melodramatic, I know, but I am a little afraid. Try sitting up from a prone position without using your stomach muscles. It’s an exercise in creativity. I either need assistance, or I have to roll over into a position where I can push myself up with my arm muscles.

There are some challenges we have to overcome with being home for recovery. Our house has two stories, but I’m not authorized to take the stairs more than once a day for now. That means I spend my days on the sofa in the family room, where I can watch TV and get to the kitchen. Ron must go to work, but isn’t comfortable leaving me at home alone yet. We call my family for help, and they respond. The first week, my older sister Xandy (Alexandra) comes to stay with us, to keep me company and help with meals while Ron is at work. The next week, Xandy passes the baton to Mom and my little sister Althea. This takes a huge load off Ron’s mind.

My cat, Beezum, missed me and wants to laze with me on the sofa. One problem…She wants to stretch out on my stomach. I snooze with a pillow on my abdomen to make sure I don’t get an unexpected 11 pound weight pouncing directly on my incision. Who doesn’t sleep better with a purring cat on their lap? I get healing energy from her.

The news is out about my return home, and I am stunned by the influx of phone calls, cards, flowers and plants, and casseroles! These gestures are very, very moving. I will always remember what I learned from being on the receiving end of those kindnesses.

As the days pass, I feel progressively stronger, and can move around more easily. The staples have been removed from my stomach, and my guts didn't fall out.  I revel in taking real showers.  Pajamas are traded in for real clothes. One day I decide to attempt a walk around the block with Ron. But I run out of energy at the end of the block and have to sit down and rest before I can even retrace my steps to retreat home. By later in the week, I can make it all the way.

What’s ahead? It’s almost time to meet my Oncologist and prepare for chemotherapy treatments. The first part of this journey is behind me. Now I need to gather my strength for battle with the unseen enemy.