Yesterday my mom made it more than half way through her chemotherapy. It's a fantastic milestone since we didn't think she would continue this far. There are only two more to go and she has started some new medication in order to avoid additional nausea. Of course, she feels fine the day of her treatment and still maintains her energy the next day--- it's that damn third day where it kicks in for her ...or so we thought. Her treatments are getting more arduous and she is losing energy. On the days she feels great, she looks great but on the days where she doesn't feel well, it's heartbreaking to see her. Today is one of those days. It's very early in the morning and my mom is extremely nauseated and sick. I feel helpless. I just don't understand... and I sit here in fear of waiting for her to say, "I'm not doing these treatments anymore."
In the beginning, I planned on attending her chemo treatments with her because as Dr. S, the oncologist said, this will be a breeze. I'd have my Nook, she'd have her Kindle and we would spend quality time together. Again, this is in an attempt to fill the regret I had for not spending enough time with my dad. This didn't quite happen. Actually, I was discouraged from going to the chemo treatments, not by just my mom either but mostly everyone I know. I suppose it makes sense that seeing some of the Cancer patients would have pushed me over the edge -- seeing those people who have lost their hair, anorexic from lack of appetite and pallid may just be more than I can stand. On the flip side, it's worse being at work, trying to concentrate, while knowing my mom is having this poison injected into her (FYI, there is an upside-- the chemo is killing the arthritis in her bad knee and she's having thoughts about becoming a Rockette).
I wish I were more emotionally stable. I don't say that to be cute, it's the truth. Ironically, growing up, crying wasn't my thing. No one ever mistook me for an emotional kid. I was sensitive, but didn't cry unless I was pushed to my limits. After my dad died, everything changed. I know that I won't be able to concentrate at work today knowing how sick she is right now. She'll be the first to admit that she doesn't have a particularly high tolerance for pain which has made this more difficult. It's not even just pain, she can't tolerate being sick at all. My dad's chemo was so much more aggressive (I remember it was 8 hours a day and possibly 5 days a week?? again, I blocked out alot) but he didn't complain so I never knew how bad it was. I actually sit there, watching her like this and wish it were me going through it. It's beginning to take a toll on all of us. Cancer doesn't just affect the patient, it affects the whole family.
There is a line I use quite frequently-- "I want to go to a foreign country and hide under a bed." It's from the greatest TV show of our time (Moonlighting). When I heard it the first time, I was 12. I knew it was a great line but didn't get the true meaning until I got older but it was strong enough to resonate with me all these years. It's selfish. The highest degree of selfishness and an expected response from an only child. I would leave my job, my family and friends to live under a bed in France. Preferably Paris. But, that's our thing-- only children are selfish so I doubt this is shocking. I run away from my problems as best as I can because I can't cope. I know I'm 35 and I need to grow up.... set a better example for my daughter.... but this is sucking the life out of me. The one time support system since we received the news has dwindled. I'm disappointed in that. People are reaching out that I never thought would and those who I though would be there for me, aren't. I don't blame them though. I blame myself for not asking for help... I just didn't think I'd have to do that.
I'll sit here today..... my stomach in knots. Trying to focus and be productive so I don't lose my job. Honestly, fuck my life right now.
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