D.A., you are in my heart and prayers

I sincerely doubt she or any of her family will ever read this but it is on my mind and I have chosen to write about it semi-publicly anyway.

My Mom got cancer several times. Twice it was breast cancer. For her it was devastating. Not just the cancer, not just losing a breast each time, but the process of going to chemo, losing her hair, being constantly sick. 

I know they say that wasn't the cancer that killed her eventually and technically they are correct. But the truth is, her experiences going through that are a large part of the reason she waited as long as she did before going to the doctor the last time she got cancer. She did not want to go through all the chemo and stuff again. Ironically, that made it worse. I will never forget having to watch her body contort and slam into things as the morphine kicked in. So hard to watch.

I was "lucky", though. I was 23, 24 years old. The twins were 14, almost 15 when she died. Kenneth was 13 when she died. Phillip was only 9. 

It was a two or three year process of dieing with the final cancer, though to be honest, she never really recovered from the physical stresses of having the twins, so in a sense it was a 15 year process. Certainly her character changed after their birth.

That is not a complaint, simply an acknowledgment of what the truth is.

Anyway, since she was either at a chemo therapy session or laying in bed recovering from one most of the last couple years, the kids spent a lot of time with family friends. I have previously mentioned how much Pam and Greg meant to the twins, but they also felt particularly close to J and D who also did a lot, a lot, a lot for them. (And I could include Dan and Vicki in this).

They watched the kids while Dad was taking Mom to the doctor, did stuff like that. The kids sometimes stayed over there for weeks.

Never was there a mention of payment. They did it because they were friends, Christians, good people. It was 14 years ago when Mom died but obviously I still remember and it still matters, as does the great help our friends were.

And now perhaps it is our turn.

Learned today that D now has breast cancer. The official diagnosis is that it is a "small" amount.

As if, when discussing such things, there is any such thing as "small". 

This is a terrifying, devastating event. Her youngest child is, I believe, 12, and the brother is 14 or so. 

How do you handle such news if you are the one told "it is just small". She was there beginning to end. She knew what Mom went through. She knew the pain and suffering. She knew the fear.

Obviously there is nothing I can say to fix it or make everything all better. But perhaps this time I can be one of those pillars she and her family lean on when they need it. Hopefully it will be a very quick, easily handled cancer and in a few weeks we will have forgotten all about it. 

Unlikely. 

I just wish she didn't have to go through it. I wish her husband, children, family, and friends didn't. 

But we do. So I just hope I can find a way to be whatever help I can. As little as it is. D, I grieve for you. 

4 comments:

listen for azure said...

Can I grieve along, too? Watching someone go through chemotherapy is devastating to the soul. They poison you to make you better.

My thoughts and prayers are with D as she starts the battle. Rally the troops and let me know if there's anything I can do.

Stupid cancer.

Riot Kitty said...

Oh! I am sending good thoughts her way. My grandmother has been in recovery for nearly 8 years now - they caught it early, which is what it sounds like happened with D.

Unknown said...

I was actually 10 when mom passed.

I remember it very clearly because of the story I was told. It goes that when she had cancer in 85 when I was born, she either wished out loud or prayed that she could have made it until I was 10 so that I would at least know my mother.

As for the rest, I pray that you and I will be at least a fraction as helpful as others were for mom and dad and us.

Anonymous said...

wow. Prayers are with D. Heart-wrenching.