Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Mary Mom Update

Two of the boxes I encountered over the weekend were boxes my own childhood.  School mementos--reports written, notes saved, report cards, pages upon pages of stories, poetry, and thoughts written.

Since I was a little girl, I have found that the best way for me to process my feelings, is through writing.  If my life is busy, like when my kids were little, I can substitute writing with talking...and I can talk your ear off.  But, if I do it through writing, I find the most peace in my process.

How frustrating it is, though, when I have much to process, and the thoughts and feelings just jam up, like ice under a bridge on a thawing stream.  The words just dam up my flows of thought, and nothing comes out.

This is how I have felt today, as I sit down to write.  There is so much to share--so much has happened in the past few weeks that my posts have waned.  So many thoughts--so much drama.  I think the thing that makes it so hard to get out and share, is the range of emotion each story carries.  Some of it is whimsical and fun, while some of it is deeply sad.

School started last week, and although I have have pictures and reflections, there is something else I need to share.  Something difficult, and sad, and something more important.

Late last week, I received very bad news.  My Mary Mom (my ex-mother-in-law), has cancer.  Specifically, Primary Brain Lymphoma.

There have been many things, in recent weeks, to support the doctors' suspicions that something was wrong.  Mary has declined rapidly since July.  First, they found the tumor.  Then, they thought it wasn't cancer, and they medicated her to attempt to shrink it.  In spite of this, her condition weakened.  She lost incredible amounts of weight.  She began losing abilities...walking, helping with walking, eating, her memory, talking.

Her memory problems.  Wow.  It was just disorientation at first.  Then, it was confusion and outright paranoia.  Finally, it ended with strange responses to the nurses' questions.  Nurse:  "How many children do you have?"  Mary Mom:  "Five.  Four girls, and one boy."  The only problem with that answer is that Mary has three children--two boys and a girl (the family she described is her childhood family of origin...she is one of four sisters, and she has one brother).

She also had a strange tear in her intestine that required surgery in August.  Horrible timing, but thankfully, that problem seems unrelated, and she appears to be recovering.

The doctors ordered another head CT Scan, though, as she began to fail so rapidly after her intestinal surgery.  That was when they discovered that the tumor had doubled in size, and new ones had formed around it.  It looked like cancer.  They went in and biopsied it last week, and discovered that it is cancer.  Which explains everything...the weakness, weight loss, loss of functions, etc.

They started her on Chemo Saturday.  Last I heard, she will undergo two big treatments a week.

Her prognosis is bleak.  Without treatments, she would only have 2 months.  This is so easy to believe.  Her decline has been so rapid--it's been shocking to see her from one week to the next.  But, with treatments, they predict she could have 4 to 5 years.  With God?  Well, He knows how many days she will have, so I choose to rest in Him and His plan for her life on this planet...while asking for more time, in spite of myself.

Please pray for her.  Please pray also for my ex-husband.  This is very hard for him, on so many levels.

The ice of thoughts and feelings are still jamming up under that bridge a little bit, but getting out the details of my Mary Mom's illness feels a little bit better.  Seeing her sick, as well as having gone through the kids' toy box from Nebraska over the weekend, has really clouded up my heart and head.  It was a tough weekend, and I hate it that it was.  But I want to share it.  My need to be real is so great, that I continue to put myself out there, as transparent as I can be, so that others who suffer similar effects of crisis can see something they can relate to in my experiences.

But.  It is equally important for me to be an example of triumph--to be someone who has climbed out of the pit of crisis.  Someone who runs the race.  Yes, I have road blocks every now and then, but they are more infrequent than they used to be, and as I encounter a new one, it seems less daunting.  I think I've built some muscle on this race--this journey.

Which is good.

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