Heaven Can Wait

On December 31, 2008, my sister and I joined Bert (my stepdad) and Mom in a doctor's office at UMC. A week or so before we had been informed of the cancer that unbenknownst to us had been growing rapidly in her uterus. Upon hearing the type (leiomyosarcoma), we were immediately warned not to "google" it. What does the normal person then do? Stupidly, I googled it at work and promptly had to excuse myself to the bathroom to be sick, cry, etc. You get the idea. Anyway, I think back to that day around lunch when the doctor came into the room for our first visit in regards to her prognosis. Mom probed him for details. We wanted the truth and didn't want anything candy-coated. Well, he delivered. He informed us that the average person in her situation (the uterine mass had already metastasized to 5 spots in her lungs) lives for 6 months to one year. He offered the options, one being to begin Hospice care immediately and forgo chemo. It was terminal, Stage IV. Mom looked "normal." We opted out of the Hospice and we agreed to fight the cancer (Mom hates when we use violence to describe taking it out, but that's the only way to describe it!) Being in the medical field, Lindsay, Mom and I all agreed that she would not endure chemo if it became not worth it. We didn't agree on a stopping point or any parameters to discontinue chemo, but she would NOT suffer just to get a few extra days.

At the time, my family thought we were living in a nightmare. I could not work a full 12 hour shift for months without breaking down at some point. Most nights at the dinner table, I would literally cry in my plate while Wade watched helplessly. Wade and I had started trying to get pregnant 3 days before she had the CT scan that initially identified the cancer. Would she ever meet the grandchild that she had BEGGED for forever? We had so many concerns.

On December 30, 2009, Mom sat with some of our biggest supporters. We threw her first annual "Heaven Can Wait" celebratory dinner. Mom is down to only 3 spots on her lung and continues to receive chemo about every other week. They have actually considered resecting the spots on her lungs. While this won't be a cure (nothing will as it will eventually come back no matter what), it will buy more time. Mom has met her first grandchild and completely basked in his presence (she has been in Jackson every week since he was born except one--he's 8 weeks old and she lives almost 3 hours away! You do the math.) This year we assumed would be our worst as a family. However, it has turned out to be the most rewarding year of my life. When you are given a "life sentence" you learn to appreciate all those little things that are typically taken for granted. We've made so many wonderful memories. Everett is going to be the warmest child ever as Mom has gone nuts with the quilting and, as it stands now, he has around 7 quilts to "remember her by." I realize that it could get worse at any point. I still somewhat live in fear that every cough or sneeze that she has is the beginning of a pneumonia.

This year I am so thankful to have my Mom in her (new) healthy state. We are attempting to attain a new normal while still appreciating everything. My wish for my 1 or 2 friends that actually read this is to hug your family just a tad tighter each day, tell your loved ones that you do love and appreciate them, and don't take for granted good health.

Mom meeting our boy, November 7, 2009

Everett's safe in Granna's arms

Mom and Reid blowing out her one year cake!