From Nancy's Journal in June 2003
6/10/03
It's amazing how a life can change in the span of a moment. I'm sitting here with the weight of the world on my chest causing shortness of breath and an aching in my heart. It was only Sunday we celebrated mom's 81st birthday and she was so excited about coming up for a visit. She loved the luscious lunches J and I prepared and always praised us for our ability to entertain. She loved sitting in the garden room overlooking the trees, reminding her of home, sheltered by a huge maple tree.
How do you begin to record this sad picture that occurred the morning after as she called my brother and asked for help. You knew her pain was intense as she had a high threshold for pain. For the month or so I had been concerned about her weight loss and complaints of constipation. She convinced me it was just a sign of old age.
It was scary to hear that once in the emergency room she was given morphine without much relief. I knew then it was serious.
I admire her courage as she said she that she had a good life. She reflected back on her exotic vacations she took with dad and felt she had seen the world.
How does one grapple with 3-6 months, maybe a year to live? She immediately said she would go into hospice so she wouldn't be a burden to her children. We felt a ray of hope this afternoon when her surgeon said that we need to take it a step at a time, his goal to get her stronger from the operation so she could go home to live out her remaining days. We had tried to tell her to take a day at a time, but when the doctor mentioned home, her eyes lit up in optimism. She would try it a home for a while and when things got worse she would head to hospice.
Today we don't know how much the cancer has spread, but we do know from the doctor's diagram, there were growths spreading throughout her stomach and into her intestine.
It's so sad to watch her grimace. It's got to be bad. Why else would they give her access to the magic button to push for self-administered pain medication?
6/12/03
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tunes without the words
And never stops -- at all
- Emily Dickinson -
What a difference a day can make. Yesterday mom was doing so much better. I am so proud of her and her courage. She asked the doctor, point blank, to tell her the duration of her time… the surgeon said six months, her doctor said 1 year. It is so hard to tell.
She is really positive about getting ready to come home, even if that means a stop at the nursing home for rehabilitation. She is already planning how she and her neighbor Leigh will sit on the porch together to enjoy the summer… the loving and caring person she is, she is concerned about Leigh being alone.
I'm also proud of the way she relates to people… making each health care provider feel special. She knows how to charm and it comes straight from the heart.
However right now I am feeling the weight of the world, but holding on to hope. Sadly, the stress levels are escalating as I returned home this morning from coffee with a call from Dr. Sivak, but nothing serious. My numbers are high on the Gilda Radner test, but that can result from increased fibroid size or menses, or even endometriosis… with a score of 800 vs. 80 avg for the CA125 test. The doctor is getting me in for a CAT scan. The worse case scenario a hysterectomy.
I'm upset but I think I'm still numbed by the shock and all that's going on. I do have hope. I've been fortunate to be healthy all along, so I have to just hope for the best. I'll do my best not to jump to conclusions and focus on mom and her journey back home.
She's a great role model. Just two days after surgery and she was up walking and sitting on a chair. We get a good sense that she wants to get strong so she can come home and spend her days with family and friends. You could see her determination in how she blew the breathing exercise device to open her lungs… after she got the plan about going to a senior's home for rehab, then home, she got two of the three balls up, whereby earlier, she only achieved one. You could see her drive and determination.
6/18/03
I can't believe this is happening. I just talked to my Doctor and he said I might have a bit of ovarian cancer. So I am seeing a Yale specialist who he said is an expert and can help.
Prognosis has not been mentioned, and I didn't ask due to fear. I need to muster up some strength tomorrow and ask the difficult questions like my mom did.
It's hard to believe that just yesterday I took my mom to hospice. Who knows where her journey will take her, but if there is a place to be when faced with a terminal condition, that's the place.
I was so proud of my mom's courage as she left the hospital and went to face what could be her final destination. I hope not, I continue to look for a miracle whereby she could eat and be in remission for a year. What strength it took for her to say, I feel like I'm going home as she entered the beautiful complex with views of the healing waters of Long Island Sound. Today, her spirits were good and she said she would force herself to eat and, who knows, she may go into remission for a year or so.
Cancer is a scary word, and you feel like you're damaged goods. But I must keep up the hope, not only for me but also for Jacques and my family. J. is so supportive and positive. I pray the outcome for mom and myself is positive. It's a journey that we are taking together. I just don't want to upset her so I will have to figure out a way to get through this without disrupting her spirits. She needs her strength.
I just think of how beautiful she looked yesterday in her periwinkle outfit, how calm and serene she looked. I just hope I can reach her level of courage as I face the days ahead.
I'm happy to have my doctor advising me and I believe he has sent me to the right source. But the unknown is so frightening. I could live with a hysterectomy and I hope that's the worse case scenario. It makes me now wonder about the rib pain I have since November and hope there is no relation.
It's amazing how a life can change in the span of a moment. I'm sitting here with the weight of the world on my chest causing shortness of breath and an aching in my heart. It was only Sunday we celebrated mom's 81st birthday and she was so excited about coming up for a visit. She loved the luscious lunches J and I prepared and always praised us for our ability to entertain. She loved sitting in the garden room overlooking the trees, reminding her of home, sheltered by a huge maple tree.
How do you begin to record this sad picture that occurred the morning after as she called my brother and asked for help. You knew her pain was intense as she had a high threshold for pain. For the month or so I had been concerned about her weight loss and complaints of constipation. She convinced me it was just a sign of old age.
It was scary to hear that once in the emergency room she was given morphine without much relief. I knew then it was serious.
I admire her courage as she said she that she had a good life. She reflected back on her exotic vacations she took with dad and felt she had seen the world.
How does one grapple with 3-6 months, maybe a year to live? She immediately said she would go into hospice so she wouldn't be a burden to her children. We felt a ray of hope this afternoon when her surgeon said that we need to take it a step at a time, his goal to get her stronger from the operation so she could go home to live out her remaining days. We had tried to tell her to take a day at a time, but when the doctor mentioned home, her eyes lit up in optimism. She would try it a home for a while and when things got worse she would head to hospice.
Today we don't know how much the cancer has spread, but we do know from the doctor's diagram, there were growths spreading throughout her stomach and into her intestine.
It's so sad to watch her grimace. It's got to be bad. Why else would they give her access to the magic button to push for self-administered pain medication?
6/12/03
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tunes without the words
And never stops -- at all
- Emily Dickinson -
What a difference a day can make. Yesterday mom was doing so much better. I am so proud of her and her courage. She asked the doctor, point blank, to tell her the duration of her time… the surgeon said six months, her doctor said 1 year. It is so hard to tell.
She is really positive about getting ready to come home, even if that means a stop at the nursing home for rehabilitation. She is already planning how she and her neighbor Leigh will sit on the porch together to enjoy the summer… the loving and caring person she is, she is concerned about Leigh being alone.
I'm also proud of the way she relates to people… making each health care provider feel special. She knows how to charm and it comes straight from the heart.
However right now I am feeling the weight of the world, but holding on to hope. Sadly, the stress levels are escalating as I returned home this morning from coffee with a call from Dr. Sivak, but nothing serious. My numbers are high on the Gilda Radner test, but that can result from increased fibroid size or menses, or even endometriosis… with a score of 800 vs. 80 avg for the CA125 test. The doctor is getting me in for a CAT scan. The worse case scenario a hysterectomy.
I'm upset but I think I'm still numbed by the shock and all that's going on. I do have hope. I've been fortunate to be healthy all along, so I have to just hope for the best. I'll do my best not to jump to conclusions and focus on mom and her journey back home.
She's a great role model. Just two days after surgery and she was up walking and sitting on a chair. We get a good sense that she wants to get strong so she can come home and spend her days with family and friends. You could see her determination in how she blew the breathing exercise device to open her lungs… after she got the plan about going to a senior's home for rehab, then home, she got two of the three balls up, whereby earlier, she only achieved one. You could see her drive and determination.
6/18/03
I can't believe this is happening. I just talked to my Doctor and he said I might have a bit of ovarian cancer. So I am seeing a Yale specialist who he said is an expert and can help.
Prognosis has not been mentioned, and I didn't ask due to fear. I need to muster up some strength tomorrow and ask the difficult questions like my mom did.
It's hard to believe that just yesterday I took my mom to hospice. Who knows where her journey will take her, but if there is a place to be when faced with a terminal condition, that's the place.
I was so proud of my mom's courage as she left the hospital and went to face what could be her final destination. I hope not, I continue to look for a miracle whereby she could eat and be in remission for a year. What strength it took for her to say, I feel like I'm going home as she entered the beautiful complex with views of the healing waters of Long Island Sound. Today, her spirits were good and she said she would force herself to eat and, who knows, she may go into remission for a year or so.
Cancer is a scary word, and you feel like you're damaged goods. But I must keep up the hope, not only for me but also for Jacques and my family. J. is so supportive and positive. I pray the outcome for mom and myself is positive. It's a journey that we are taking together. I just don't want to upset her so I will have to figure out a way to get through this without disrupting her spirits. She needs her strength.
I just think of how beautiful she looked yesterday in her periwinkle outfit, how calm and serene she looked. I just hope I can reach her level of courage as I face the days ahead.
I'm happy to have my doctor advising me and I believe he has sent me to the right source. But the unknown is so frightening. I could live with a hysterectomy and I hope that's the worse case scenario. It makes me now wonder about the rib pain I have since November and hope there is no relation.
posted by Jacques at 2:03 AM
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