I've have not personally had cancer but I have had the unfortunate experience of watching two people very close to me go through treatments.
When I was 14 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was 42 which, from my understanding, is pretty young for a breast cancer diagnosis. I actually know very little about her cancer since my entire family decided I was too young to deal with all the details and they didn't want to worry me. I still hold a fair amount of resentment for that because there were at least two hospitalizations that I didn't even know about until much later. But that's neither here nor there and it's not what I'm writing this post about.
It was incredibly difficult watching my mother going through treatment. I remember the first time I ever saw my mother cry was the day she pulled a clump of hair out after starting chemotherapy. She was a strong woman capable of great emotion but she tried so hard to show us that she would be okay so that we wouldn't worry about her. We knew though that she was struggling some days but most of the time she held her head up and put on a brave face and went about her day. I think it was about a year after the diagnosis that she finished treatment and was announced to be in remission. After that life went back to normal - my brother graduated high school and went off to college and I was a typical annoying teenager.
It wasn't until my third year in college that we discovered that this wasn't over yet. Mom went to a regular check up and it was discovered that the cancer was back and it was worse this time. The cancer was no longer in her breast but had moved and settled into her bones. It was back to chemotherapy and this round seemed to affect her more and less at the same time. She seemed to have less nausea and general ill feeling but more pain and taste changes. I don't know what her chemo regimen was but it definitely took more out of her because the first time I saw her after she began treatment again I was shocked. She had lost a significant amount of weight and I could tell she was hurting more. My mother was never a big woman but she was always a size 6 or 8 and in just a few months she was barely fitting into a size 1 jeans. It was a big difference for her. But she was still Mom and for the next several years she was on one medication or another to try to fight the cancer and relieve pain.
My family hid things well and it wasn't until things got really bad that I even knew there was something serious to worry about. In fact I didn't know she was having any decline in health until after I got back from my honeymoon. When my husband and I got back into the states we called to let everyone know we had a wonderful time and we were on our way home. She sounded a little confused when I talked to her but that wasn't uncommon since one of her medications made her a little bit loopy and it was getting late in the evening. A few days later I got a call from my father saying that she was rapidly declining and was becoming less coherent every day. That weekend my husband and I went home and I was shocked. She could barely walk and slept nearly the entire time we were there. The woman lying in the bed was so different than the mother I had always known that I could scarcely believe it was the same person. It had only been two weeks since I had seen her dancing and having a wonderful time at our wedding. I spent time with my mom and said my goodbyes and that I loved her because I knew this would be the last time I got to see her.
We went back home that Sunday because I had to work and I had no time left to take to stay with her. In fact I was at work when I got the call from my father that she had passed on October 15, 2009. I knew it was coming but I was still devastated and nearly inconsolable for hours. We made the trip back home again for her memorial service that weekend and it was bittersweet. We laughed, we cried, but we did celebrate the life she lived and that's what she wanted us to do. I miss her everyday but knowing she's no longer in pain and she lived a short, but full life gives me some solace. Ultimately she lived the life she wanted and taught me to do the same so I do my best to follow in her footsteps.
This post has ended up being much longer than I anticipated so I think I'll end it here and leave my husband's story for another day. I decided after writing this that I am not going to re-read and make any edits to this post since I think just free-writing shows more of my thoughts than any edits I could make. I apologize now for any spelling and grammatical errors but I hope you can overlook them.
And I know this story is sad but don't cry too much because mom wouldn't have wanted that - she'd want you to learn and live your life to the fullest and never look back.
<3 <3 <3
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