thejunipertree (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thejunipertree) wrote2004-05-20 05:02 pm
thejunipertree) wrote2004-05-20 05:02 pm
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I finally was able to speak to the oncologist today, after four days of playing phone tag.
And it comes down to this:
He doesn't recommend my mom go through chemo. She's far too weak and going through too many things, the chemo would be too much on her system.
The suggestion is to have her put on hospice care, as soon as she gets out of the hospital. And that maybe with their care, she can be built back up enough in time for chemo. But, he truly believes that all of this (meaning everything going on right now) is just prolonging her pain.
...
I took this news rather well, all things considered. Then, I hung up the phone and commenced losing my shit in my office.
No one else knows yet, either.
And, as always, it is up to me to be the messenger.
I don't know what to do. I don't know when I should tell her, or even if it should be ME who tells her. I don't know how to tell anybody else, like my brother. I also don't know if telling my mother about this would actually make her WORSE. Like, hearing this news would make her finally give up? I don't know.
There is a small chance that her going on hospice would build her up enough for chemo, after she recovers from this hospital stay. But, from the way everything is seeming right now (and granted, I haven't been to hospital yet today), it just appears that it's all too much for her system to take. And even if hospice does do what we want it to do for her, we don't actually have all that much time to accomplish it in.
It's all so fucked up.
And thinking about all of this right now, as I'm writing this entry, I've realized that I would much rather have someone I love die very quickly and suddenly, then have to go through this drawn out ordeal. Every day, watching her go further and further away.
I remember a scene in some television program, maybe Six Feet Under, where a woman's father had died of cancer. And she was commenting to another character that "watching someone die of cancer is like watching the ocean wash them away. Every day the waves come up and take away another little bit of them."
It's true. So fucking true.
I have to go now. I can't type anymore.
And it comes down to this:
He doesn't recommend my mom go through chemo. She's far too weak and going through too many things, the chemo would be too much on her system.
The suggestion is to have her put on hospice care, as soon as she gets out of the hospital. And that maybe with their care, she can be built back up enough in time for chemo. But, he truly believes that all of this (meaning everything going on right now) is just prolonging her pain.
...
I took this news rather well, all things considered. Then, I hung up the phone and commenced losing my shit in my office.
No one else knows yet, either.
And, as always, it is up to me to be the messenger.
I don't know what to do. I don't know when I should tell her, or even if it should be ME who tells her. I don't know how to tell anybody else, like my brother. I also don't know if telling my mother about this would actually make her WORSE. Like, hearing this news would make her finally give up? I don't know.
There is a small chance that her going on hospice would build her up enough for chemo, after she recovers from this hospital stay. But, from the way everything is seeming right now (and granted, I haven't been to hospital yet today), it just appears that it's all too much for her system to take. And even if hospice does do what we want it to do for her, we don't actually have all that much time to accomplish it in.
It's all so fucked up.
And thinking about all of this right now, as I'm writing this entry, I've realized that I would much rather have someone I love die very quickly and suddenly, then have to go through this drawn out ordeal. Every day, watching her go further and further away.
I remember a scene in some television program, maybe Six Feet Under, where a woman's father had died of cancer. And she was commenting to another character that "watching someone die of cancer is like watching the ocean wash them away. Every day the waves come up and take away another little bit of them."
It's true. So fucking true.
I have to go now. I can't type anymore.
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You, and your mom, and your family are in my thoughts. If there is anything I can do, let me know. *hug*
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Is there anything I can do for you?
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If there's anything that I can do, let me know, okay?
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I'm so sorry, my dear.
You shouldn't have to deal with this.
It's possible the news would make her give up, but it's also possible it will make her fight more. Or it will allow her to make her peace & live the best way she can in the time she has left.
I really don't know what to say. I don't know what comes next.
But know that I love you & I am thinking of you & yours.
& if you need to get away or anything else I can give you, my door is always open.
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however, i have no right to any opinion about this.
just my thought. and i pray it goes the best it can.
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if there is anything i can do let me know
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I just wanted you to know that I have come to a conclusion.
After seeing you last night and witnessing everything and seeing your current MO, I have determined that you are the toughest chick I know.
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I just went to your journal, to see how you've been, and I see some talk about losing it and almost deleting your journal and such like. Is everything okay? Email me, if you don't want it discussed here.
dellamortedellamore @ earthlink . net
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IMPORTANT!!!