July 17th - The 100th Anniversary of My Mom's Birth

 

It's been a tough day!

I'll be honest. I've been on the verge of tears all day. It's my Mom's birthday anniversary. She would have been 100 years old. We were really close my whole life, and today I miss her. I wish I had been able to talk to her more about her cancer experience. She always seemed to take it in stride. 

In about September or October of the year before she died, my mother knew that her breast cancer had returned. She lost about 35 pounds in two months. Sixteen years before, her doctors had predicted that she had about nine months. Sixteen years and two husbands later (my Dad died at the young age of 57 of cancer), my mother was sure she was having a recurrence. Multiple scans and tests could not confirm it. Fun Fact: It takes about one billion cancer cells to form a 1 cm lump that can be detected by most of our technology. https://tinyurl.com/4hp4ntdj See paragraph 7. When she was finally diagnosed, it was in her brain, stomach and bones. One of my surgeons explained to me that I, too, could have cancer throughout my body that is not yet detectable. Who knew?

By December, there was no longer any doubt. My mother asked me to come to her house and help her label some of her things for distribution among my siblings following her death. I have five brothers, so you can imagine there weren't going to be a lot of things they would want. For instance, I doubted they wanted one of her many dolls. While we were working, I expressed my feeling that her husband would be reluctant to do "what she wanted" because he would want to her to hang in there and I knew she valued quality of life. She said he would respect her wishes. I won't go in to detail, but suffice it to say, that I think she was "tortured" her last few weeks of life.  As things progressed, she said she didn't want a feeding tube, but he overame her reluctance. (It is because of my first-hand observation of her quality of life post-feeding tube, that I've had it put in my medical record that I do not want one).

I remember one of the last real conversations we had. I was scheduled to go to Wyoming for a two-week science course in July and was debating whether or not I should withdraw. She asked me when it was. When I gave her the dates, she said there would be no problem "as it all will be over by then." She died on June 28th.

My stepfather tried to limit our visits. I think it was because we had accepted her eventual death and wanted it to be as comfortable as possible. He had lost his first wife to cancer and felt that perhaps he had not done everything possible to save her. He wasn't making that mistake again. If I'm honest, part of me was grateful because I really didn't want to be too involved in the every day dying process. But now I wish we could have a conversation. How did she maintain her overall positive attitude up to the end? How could she think of others needs (like my desire to take a course) when she KNEW she would die soon? 

Sometimes, it is the happy thoughts that bring tears to my eyes. About 8 months ago, my cousin Jim Ryan and his wife Karen, digitzed their old family movies. They shared one with me from 1948. It had been filmed by Mom's brother, Jim, who is featured at the end of the clip. My Mom and Dad were newlyweds. As I was born in April 1949 and the movie was shot in August, I was probably conceived that month. Here is a link to a one-minute movie of my Mom in front of their apartment, At that time, life was very exciting, with all of the possibilities of their lives before them. 

Click on this link for video: https://youtu.be/ReFMiGF-_Gg

Mom, thinking of you today. Hope you are thinking of me. I need some advice.

Kath