Last summer, when my mom was diagnosed with multiple myloma, things got hectic. Initially there was the feeling of overwhelming fear of the unknown. I had my first experience with TMJ that week. I wasn't able to close my teeth correctly for a few days, but by that time the fear was replaced with a sense of relief. My mom was not going to die. Something could be done. And on we went. My sister moved home that October and by that time my mom had started her treatment. For a few months it was just tests. She had X-rays and MRI's and blood tests and urine tests and the first thing that was decided was that she would have to wear a brace.
The brace, which looked like a combination neck brace and bullet proof vest, held her neck and torso relatively still and it meant that she would not be able to continue to work the way we thought she would be able to. She told my son it was her super hero costume, that it was helping her fight cancer.
Through November, December, January, and February our calendars filled up with an ever increasing amount of appointments. My sister and dad handled most of them. I took her to the ones they couldn't make. Mom, of course, had to go to them all.
When it was determined that the brace had never really been necessary it was a relief to everyone. She had worn it faithfully for 3 months with the belief that it was protecting her back. In reality, she didn't really need it and prolonged use could make her muscles very weak. Not to mention how restrictive it was to her quality of life. She couldn't even sit comfortably.
Shortly after she was rid of the brace it was time for her to go to UCSF medical center for the grand finale in her treatment. First she would spend anywhere from 2 to 6 days at the hospital while they harvested stem cells. She ended up doing it in three days and was quite proud of herself (she loves to excel at anything. Even healing. I can relate). A week later she headed back to San Fransisco. She would receive a one time, very high dose of chemotherapy drugs and then the stem cells she had harvested would be replaced. If all went well those stem cells would produce non-cancerous blood cells. She came home just short of the 3 weeks her doctor had predicted she would need to stay. Once again the overachiever, her cell counts went up steadily and they let her go home a little early.
That was almost three weeks ago. Today, she left the house for the first time for a reason other than a doctors appointment. Every day she says she feels a little better and every day I see her get a little stronger. On Friday, when she goes back to UCSF I hope they tell her she is in remission. I have no idea how long it would take for her to actually go into remission, but I can hope.
While all of this was going on, I didn't have time to be afraid that things wouldn't work out the way we hoped. In fact the thought never crossed my mind. Maybe I wouldn't allow it, but I never had time to dwell on it either. On any given day I would need to do some combination of the following: Take my son, Ben, to school. Take my handicapped uncle, Mike, to work, (take mom to an appointment if needed), pick up Ben, pick up Mike (all of the picking up and dropping off occur 30-40 min away from my house and at different times of day) take my grandmother to any appointments she had (she goes to the dentist and doctor every 4 months, gets her hair permed every 2 months and her nails done every two weeks). I also take Grandma to the bank and Vons once a week and to pick up medication whenever she needs it. If Ben didn't get picked up by his dad on a school day then I would drop him off after taking Mike or pick him up if it was my turn. Then I had school. Microbiology. Lecture Monday from 1-4 and lab Monday and Wednesday night.
Now, I have been doing a version of this dance for the last three years. Every time someones schedule changes I have to change with it. If Ben's dad's schedule goes from a 2-2 to a 3-4 (he's a firefighter who works very hard to provide for his family) well, then my schedule changed. If my dad started working nights instead of days, then my schedule changed. I am not a person who likes constant change.
So when I open iCal and look at May and I see no appointments, no reminders, no alarms, do I feel a sense of relief? Do I see free time staring back at me asking me to fill it with stuff I like to do? No, it makes me nervous, because as free as May looks I know that it is full of appointments that haven't been made yet.
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