That's right. After 7 and a half months of assorted cancer treatment, last Friday was my mom's last chemo. I hesitate to say that the cancer show is over because for one thing, she still goes every week for Herceptin for the next year and will take Tamoxifen for five, and for another thing, if there's one thing that I've learned through this vicarious breast cancer experience, it's that cancer is never actually "over".
This realization comes after probably 4 or 5 times when we all thought "this is finally over". Let me tell you, it's not. If it's not 'one more' surgery, infection, reaction, chemo treatment, Herceptin treatment, dose of Tamoxifen, then it's the immeasurable number of appointments that plague life from the time that you are officially told "you have cancer". There's CT scans, MRIs, PET scans, liver scans, LFTs, bone density scans, CBCs, etc. Not to mention that for ever after, every ache, burn, or mole is suddenly a life threatening predicament and begs the question 'is it back?'. And I don't say all this to be negative, because my mom, as well as SO many other cancer survivors, is able to celebrate another birthday, and probably another one after that, and another one after that, because of all of the wonderful medical advancements available to us today. It's really pretty amazing. I say it because I, like so many other people nowadays thanks to the aforementioned medical advancements, just don't think of cancer as a huge deal. In most instances of breast cancer, women go on to not only survive, but to do quite well. My mom doesn't have a lot of the health burdens that are caused by other diseases. And she can still run every day, and went to work most of the time through all of this. But all the same, breast cancer, and any cancer, is a MUCH bigger deal than I ever thought it could be.
Heading into surgery September 2, 2010
Afterwards, the happy clam and her two best friends
Merry Christmas from the Seear/Crandalls before chemo November 25, 2010
Chemo #1 December 17, 2010
The cancer center's first impression of us, and all of our garb
Mom's awesome nurse, April
Ladson, picking up the "ice getter and musher" role in our team
And mom on her last chemo, February 17, 2011. Still has most of her hair! Thanks ice caps.
The other thing that I have learned through this, and a thing that I don't think that this post would be complete without, is that when this type of 'tragedy' strikes, all kinds of people come out of the woodwork wanting to help. But the interesting part of this, and the part that continually surprises me, is that these people are rarely who you would think that they would be. They are, in a lot of instances, a random assortment of people that you may have liked and seen occasionally, but not people that you talk with or see on a daily basis. On the other hand, there's a good number of people much closer to me who rarely if ever even asked how my mom was doing. I'm assuming that this is due to just not knowing what to say. So many people brought food and sent cards/flowers, and still are, though I don't see it as much since I'm not home any more. It seems to me that these people are mostly those who have been touched by cancer in some way and want to make the experience just a little easier for someone else. I think they're amazing, and I hope that I am never weary of helping someone because I don't feel that we have a close enough friendship.
On Grief:
"For I know the plans I have for you", declares the LORD. "They are plans for good and not for disaster. Plans to give you a future and a hope."
-Jeremiah 29:11
As this adventure comes to a "close" (and I use that word lightly, see above), I've thought a lot about the stages of grief, and how each affected me during the first month or so, in the role of a family member (not that this was over after a month, but just that that's when it became more a part of my life rather than a huge mountain). It just seems kind of crazy to me that 8 months ago, cancer was not a part of my life at all. I was coaching swimming and planning our wedding and cancer rarely if ever even crossed my mind. Since then, there hasn't been a day that it hasn't. But it started out feeling huge and overwhelming, and now, it doesn't. Oh Kubler Ross...
Denial: In July, I just knew that when my mom went back to get her scan after being diagnosed with cancer, that there was going to have been a mistake. The tumor wouldn't be there, maybe a cyst, no tumor though. I'm not sure whether to call this optimism, or denial. But Kubler Ross calls it denial. I actually still think it was optimism. But maybe not. Doctors make mistakes a lot, and charts can get mixed up, and people jump to conclusions. Part of me knew that this wasn't the case, because I went back and forth between this denial/optimism, and the idea that really, our family has been pretty blessed in the past (surely our time is up) and that God had stacked the deck perfectly for her to have cancer.
Then, you start to notice that people are looking at you like your whole sad situation makes them want to cry, which makes you want to cry, and that's irritating. And I think that's a precursor to the next stages...
Anger: I have heard that it's OK to be mad at God. That He can handle it. And for a while, overlapping with denial, I couldn't shake the thought that God should pick on someone else. I was about to get married, and now, during this time that was already full of change, a time when I really needed my mom, God decided to do this. AND, I wanted to be a newly wed and focus all of my time on how fantastic my life was, and this wasn't how I saw things going. Like most bad things, it was hard to see that this wasn't forever, and would hardly crucify my fantastic newlywed life. It felt like He was doing it TO me. Personally. And worse than that, that He'd decided to drag my mom into this (side note: I realize how irrational this sounds, but I'm being honest). And in case that wasn't enough, apparently God missed what God-honoring people that my elderly grandparents had always been, because if He hadn't, then He wouldn't be giving their daughter cancer, stressing them out. And the rational part of me knows that this is now how God works, and that God works all things together for good (per Romans 8:28 I believe), but there's a difference, as John Bishop has pointed out, between knowing it and feeling it. And I have certainly had days when I didn't 'feel it'. That doesn't mean it's not still true.
Bargaining: I've never been a bargainer, but I can distinctly remember a few thoughts of mine that definitely qualify as 'bargaining'. In developmental psychology, these thoughts are on a preschool level, magically thinking that you have more power than you actually do. That by some twist of fate, one bad thought or word about my mom could literally cause this to happen. "God, I'm really sorry for the times that I didn't appreciate my mom. But this isn't funny, and I'd appreciate it if you'd take your tumor back. Thanks"...."OK, I will make a point to be nicer to my mom if you'd take the tumor back", etc. And then of course that awful trap that people fall into. "Is it OK to still be happy?" and "Will being happy somehow upset fate and cause this to get worse?". Of course, I didn't think those exact questions, but looking back, that sums up the feeling. My awesome photographer told me outside of our church following our wedding meeting, like she was reading my mind, that it was still OK to be happy and excited about our wedding, and that made me feel better. And all of this sounds really dramatic and it is, but it's just how it is.
I was sure by now, God that You would have reached down,
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say Amen,
and it's still raining,
As the thunder rolls,
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you..."
Depression: You know when you're sad, and you cry, and then it starts to feel really good? And then it feels SO good, that you want to keep crying, so you think of all of these other things that make you sad, and then you latch on to a phrase or sentence that'll make you cry ever harder? (Dane Cook's description, not mine) That's exactly what this was like to me. Most people are aware that I only have my mom, so my phrase that made me sadder (a cross between anger and sadness), was "God, why can't you do this to someone who still has both of their parents?". And some variations of that phrase. This feeling would come on mainly when I knew that my mom was in pain. Most people can attest that watching someone you love in pain can be just as bad as experiencing the pain yourself. I guess because when it's YOUR pain, you can do something about it, but when it's someone else's, you just have to sit there not really being able to help.
Acceptance: I think I accepted this as part of my life a few weeks into it. Of course, since then, I can think of times when my thoughts have been peppered with anger and/or sadness, but those thoughts get further and further apart to the point to that now, I can't remember the last time that I felt true unadultered anger or sadness. And it has certainly been FAR from a circumstance that would positively destroy my life or even really hamper my happiness. God has really blessed me and my family, to the point that I have a hard time getting to my prayer requests past all of the "thank you"s that I have. So such is life. And now, it's over. Kind of.
I'll praise You in this storm,
And I will lift my hands,
For You are who You are,
no matter where I am,
and every tear I've cried,
You hold in Your hand,
You never left my side,
and though my heart is torn,
I will praise You in this storm
