Thank you all for the kind and support-filled emails and comments I've received with regard to my Mom's cancer. It was indeed verified today that she has level-three primary peritoneal cancer. Evidently, primary peritoneal cancer is fairly rare, most often it is found to be ovarian cancer. They are very similar in nature and are treated about the same way.
The good news is that we learned today that the numerous lymph nodes that were removed during surgery have come back completely clean! That means that the cancer hadn't reached her lymph nodes and is likely not to have traveled very far from it's origin. Good news, indeed.
She is still in the hospital and will likely be there until Wednesday or Thursday of this week. Her spirits are good; she seems to be very focused on taking one step at a time. The goal at this point is to recover from the extensive surgery and get home. After that, we'll learn more about the chemotherapy she faces and take that one round at a time. She's a tough cookie!
Although this may seem like a bit of a tangent, I felt compelled to check in with my favorite online astrologer, Jonathan Cainer, today. Silly as it seems for someone as pragmatic as me, I do put some stock in the horoscopes he writes. They have been very on-target for years now so I check them from time to time. Here's a little excerpt from his horoscope for me today:
"Here is where you are this week. If you can't get from here to where you want to be, you can at least get from here to somewhere much nearer to that. Don't tell yourself that you are in the wrong position or that you have made a mistake for which you cannot compensate. Just do your best and head in what has to be the right direction. The rest will take care of itself."
...and I hope that he is correct. One day at a time in the right direction. After all, what else can you do? It seems so simple but it is so hard to stay on course.
It's odd -- there is a lingering zombie-like feeling to the nightmare of beginning a long journey with a loved one who has been diagnosed with cancer. You do everything you can to help them recover from the initial surgery: help fetch whatever is needed, initiate cheerful and encouraging conversation, put a little blush on the cheeks and a brush through the hair to help improve spirits when she hears how great she looks, making the phone calls and sitting bedside through the night. All of that keeps you really busy and very involved in the moment-to-moment living that is called recuperation from surgery.
It's when you leave the hospital and re-emerge into daily life that you lose that moment-to-moment style that helps you through the experience when you're with your loved one. It's the time that you are waiting on hold with someone who is to provide technical support on a work-related issue or the time that you're driving to work on auto-pilot that the mind wanders to "what's next? what else can I do? what am I missing that might be important?" It's that state of mind that feels so zombie-like.
You know you're in motion and doing things but your mind seems to launch into a state of constant mastication, chewing on the past fewe hours and wondering what's next on the plate -- chewing and chewing and chewing on all you've heard, all you've seen, all you've done so far, wondering "what should I do now? what lies ahead for us?"
And so it is today for me... after a full weekend in the hospital with my Mom and my family and the many visitors who stopped in, it's back to the reality of my own life. The reality seems less real today. It seems to be inconsequential even though it is how I pay my bills, how I provide for my own well-being, and how I interact with the rest of the world.
It matters but it's hard to remember that it matters...As I used to be told (and used to believe), "everything happens for a reason;" however, I find that a very optimistic statement today. I certainly hope I can take the advice of Jonathan Cainer and keep moving in the direction which takes me from here and gets me closer to where I want to be -- next to my Mom and my family for many, many years to come, cancer-free.
The good news is that we learned today that the numerous lymph nodes that were removed during surgery have come back completely clean! That means that the cancer hadn't reached her lymph nodes and is likely not to have traveled very far from it's origin. Good news, indeed.
She is still in the hospital and will likely be there until Wednesday or Thursday of this week. Her spirits are good; she seems to be very focused on taking one step at a time. The goal at this point is to recover from the extensive surgery and get home. After that, we'll learn more about the chemotherapy she faces and take that one round at a time. She's a tough cookie!
Although this may seem like a bit of a tangent, I felt compelled to check in with my favorite online astrologer, Jonathan Cainer, today. Silly as it seems for someone as pragmatic as me, I do put some stock in the horoscopes he writes. They have been very on-target for years now so I check them from time to time. Here's a little excerpt from his horoscope for me today:
"Here is where you are this week. If you can't get from here to where you want to be, you can at least get from here to somewhere much nearer to that. Don't tell yourself that you are in the wrong position or that you have made a mistake for which you cannot compensate. Just do your best and head in what has to be the right direction. The rest will take care of itself."
...and I hope that he is correct. One day at a time in the right direction. After all, what else can you do? It seems so simple but it is so hard to stay on course.
It's odd -- there is a lingering zombie-like feeling to the nightmare of beginning a long journey with a loved one who has been diagnosed with cancer. You do everything you can to help them recover from the initial surgery: help fetch whatever is needed, initiate cheerful and encouraging conversation, put a little blush on the cheeks and a brush through the hair to help improve spirits when she hears how great she looks, making the phone calls and sitting bedside through the night. All of that keeps you really busy and very involved in the moment-to-moment living that is called recuperation from surgery.
It's when you leave the hospital and re-emerge into daily life that you lose that moment-to-moment style that helps you through the experience when you're with your loved one. It's the time that you are waiting on hold with someone who is to provide technical support on a work-related issue or the time that you're driving to work on auto-pilot that the mind wanders to "what's next? what else can I do? what am I missing that might be important?" It's that state of mind that feels so zombie-like.
You know you're in motion and doing things but your mind seems to launch into a state of constant mastication, chewing on the past fewe hours and wondering what's next on the plate -- chewing and chewing and chewing on all you've heard, all you've seen, all you've done so far, wondering "what should I do now? what lies ahead for us?"
And so it is today for me... after a full weekend in the hospital with my Mom and my family and the many visitors who stopped in, it's back to the reality of my own life. The reality seems less real today. It seems to be inconsequential even though it is how I pay my bills, how I provide for my own well-being, and how I interact with the rest of the world.
It matters but it's hard to remember that it matters...As I used to be told (and used to believe), "everything happens for a reason;" however, I find that a very optimistic statement today. I certainly hope I can take the advice of Jonathan Cainer and keep moving in the direction which takes me from here and gets me closer to where I want to be -- next to my Mom and my family for many, many years to come, cancer-free.
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