My mom always told me that when kids hit the age of 13 they lose their minds and do not get them back until their early 20's. Looking back on my life, I could say that statement is mostly true. Once I hit about 15 I wanted nothing to do with my parents except for them to teach me to drive. I remember pestering mom and dad both to take me out in the car or truck and let me learn. Then, the weekend I turned 16 and the following three weekends, it snowed. I itched so bad to get my license so I could have freedom. I could smell it. I could taste it. I couldn't wait to get my grubby little hands on it. Freedom! I pestered mom so much about taking me to get my license, I am honestly surprised she didn't yank all her hair out or lock me in my room. Then, after school one day she surprised me and took me to test. :) Now. Wyoming is different than Tennessee. In Wyoming, once you get your license (at least back in 1996) you had your license. Tennessee has graduated licensing for teenagers. Casper has a curfew for those under 18. Did I ever pay attention?
Once I got my license, I wanted freedom and I rebelled in order to get it. I was up at 430am to deliver newspapers, on the ice from 530am to 8am Monday through Friday, back on the ice after school, on the ice on weekends for fun, homework after practice, no time for fun. My parents were strict, and I know I gave them hell. Anyone who knew my parents back when I was a teenager, or who knew me, knows what a handful I was. Mom jokes that I was the worst of the 3. Although, I think at some point she was actually being serious. My parents instilled in me a good moral code. They taught me to stand up for myself and to hold fast to my beliefs. They taught me to be self sufficient, independent, and to be strong in the face of adversity. Do I have one hero? No, I have 2 and they are my parents.
My parents were always supportive in whatever I chose to do (even if they did not agree with my decision). My parents and I are close. I know I can always go to them if I ever need to, to vent, for advice, etc. My parents were my rock through high school. I wanted to drop out so many times. I dealt with constant bullying, harassment, crank calls, death threats, random threats, vandalism, assault, and having my beliefs and who I am constantly questioned. But, with my parents as my rock and sturdy foundation, I was determined to finish and not let those people win! I chose to attend college in Colorado, where I knew only 2 people. I was a bit overwhelmed with moving hours away and attending a school where I knew no one. One of my best friends talked me into going through formal sorority recruitment.
I had reservations about it. No one in my immediate family had ever joined a sorority (that I knew of). I found out after I accepted a bid that while my mom did not attend college (she graduated high school in May 1964 and then married in November 1964) she did join Beta Sigma Phi sorority. While there are chapters on college campuses, it is also a social organization and one does not need to necessarily be in college to join. When I told her I was thinking of going through recruitment, she was extremely supportive. She asked me to call her each night and tell her what it was like and what we did and what houses I went to. So, I did. There were 5 houses on my campus. I went to only one preference ceremony on the last night. I was so scared. I wanted so badly to be a part of that organization I could taste it. The next day was September 11th, 2001. Every potential new member received their bids and we were asked to keep our houses quiet for 2 weeks. The school rescheduled our Bid Day b/c of the tragedy. That was SO hard. I wanted so badly to tell my mom, but I kept it quiet. I remember her asking me every day what house I was in. I asked her how she knew I got into a house and she said it was b/c I wasn't upset about NOT getting into a house. I did finally tell her and she was so excited for me! While I cannot share my love of Alpha Omicron Pi to her, I can share a love of sorority life with her.
I have only blogged two other posts that have completely broken my heart. It never gets any easier. For many of you, you know. For those that do not, my mother was diagnosed with stage 3 refractory ovarian cancer. What that means is that it is platinum resistant cancer. Most chemotherapy drugs have platinum in them or a platinum catalyst. These do not work and the majority of chemotherapy drugs out today fall into this category. She was diagnosed June 28th, 2012.
Mom has been in the hospital off and on for 3 weeks, and then continuously for the last 2.
On Wednesday, July 23rd, mom learned that the chemo drug she was currently on and the treatments were no longer working. This is a constant for her. The drugs work for so long and then they no longer work. They were informed that there was only 2 options left for mom: a hormone and another medication with a 20% chance for side effects. Mom opted for the hormone and the oncologist wanted to do a biopsy of the tumors.
On Friday, July 25th, mom complained of pain so dad took her to the ER at one of our local hospitals. They kept her until Sunday afternoon (July 27th). The staff tried to control her pain and get her something that would work without making her sick. She ate Saturday night, but b/c of the chemo and the cancer, she has become a petulant 5 year old regarding food. There are certain things she will not eat b/c of texture issues or b/c it tastes like cardboard, and there are other foods that she loves. Depending upon the day, she may eat one thing and the next does not want it. She did not eat on Sunday, but did get car sick on the ride home. The doctors had put her on a strong pain medicine and she took it like prescribed.
On Monday, July 28th, she went to bed as normal. I came down the hall and she was coherent and we had a short conversation. She woke me at 630 the next morning by falling out of the bed. Apparently this was her 2nd fall that morning. The pain medicine caused her to become a zombie. Except not of the flesh eating bacteria kind. We took her to the ER that day, the same hospital she had recently been released from, at the advice of the doctor's office nurses. She actually had a severe bladder infection and was admitted from Tuesday to Thursday that week. She was severely dehydrated and had an infection and was not eating. After arguing between the doctors, the tumor/liver biopsy was done (we don't have results yet).
The following Saturday night/Sunday morning, I was sitting in the living room in the wee hours of the morning. I heard her shuffling around the den and about the time I heard her, Axel barked, and mom fell into the entertainment center. I ran into the den and as I got in the room she had fallen again and hit the side of her face on the entertainment center. She was confused and disoriented. I asked where she was going and she said she was going to get ready for her doctor's appointment (which was Monday and it was 3:15am on Sunday). She had tripped over her shoes. Dad and I got her back in the bed and she proceeded to fall out again 45 minutes later.
Sherie and Tracy came over that day and the four of us called the oncologist and he told us to bring her in the next day. That Monday, August 4th, she went to the oncologist. She was again severely dehydrated and they gave her 4 bags of fluid. She had not had solid food or anymore than a thimble amount of liquid since Sunday, July 28th. As dad was helping her into the car she tripped over the foot pedal on the wheelchair and fell away from him. She hit her head on the concrete post outside the office and split the skin open. They did xrays and a CT and they were normal. No bleeding on the brain, no bruising, no cracked skull. The doctor did put 1 stitch and 2 staples in, which have since been removed. She was admitted to the magnet hospital in town that Monday night.
I sat with her as late as I could that night. The nurse and I both tried to get her up to go to the bathroom and she got dizzy twice. She started out on the bed pan, went to a catheter, then to the bedside, and now back on the bed pan. In the last 2 weeks, mom has gotten better, gotten worse, and now is just hanging in and continuing to fight. I sit with her in the evenings from about 5 until midnight or later. She still doesn't eat what they bring her, but she drinks Coca Cola, water, ginger ale, and Ensure shakes. Her legs are elevated due to swelling on the feet from the amount of fluid being pumped into her. The radiologist has performed a paracentesis twice in the last 2 weeks. Basically, with the help of an ultrasound machine a large needle is inserted into a fluid fill sac in her abdomen and the fluid is drained off. I asked questions the first time I saw it done and the radiologist said that cancer, chemo, liver diseases all cause fluid to build up in the abdomen. It causes the sensation of being full, and weight gain, etc. They pulled off 4 liters at that point. Then almost 2 weeks ago, they pulled off another 4 liters. They did not pull any off last week, so we think that it had built up and then burst. When it burst on Sunday evening, it actually burst through the skin where her hernia incision was. I noticed the odor immediately upon entering the room but did not know what it was from. When she messed with her blankets and said she needed to use the bathroom, I noticed her gown was soaked. She pulled her gown and complained of pain. I pulled it up and noticed the issue immediately. Since I had already hit the call button and no one came in or answered, I ran down the hall and told a nurse that she had had in the past few days. They came in and took care of it. It was just pouring fluid. It was like a leaky faucet had been left on. The nurses couldn't get it to stop. It finally slowed down and they got a bag over it (I have no idea of the name as it escapes me at the time), and emptied almost 1000 ccs out over the next 24 hours. It was still leaking last night, and I haven't seen it tonight yet.
She has complained of a lot of pain lately. Now we know why.
We are trying to make some decisions, extremely hard decisions at this point. She's still in there. When she isn't doped up on morphine like she is now. She's talkative, but very quiet. She wants to go home. We want her to come home. This is where we are now. Holding on to hope.
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