It’s nice to see how it’s all concluding
Quick recap: my oncologist told me I’m not going to be cured; this is all to prolong my life now.
Stage IV metastatic breast cancer grew significantly on my lungs these past couple months.
I’ve lost my appetite. Everything tastes wrong or rotten, or hurts my stomach. I’m coughing so much, I vomit. I’m in pain now. I’ve lost 18 pounds, and I’m incredibly weak. I’m not bedridden yet, but trying to clean the house or wash my hair lately makes me exhausted enough to pass out afterwards. I can’t take walks anymore.
So I told my family. And I said 40 years was enough for me, and I want to go home to the Lord asap. I prayed for the end. I think a lot of people reach this point.
I’m not continuing treatment, and I’m asking about a DNR on my next appointment. That was difficult for my mom to understand. “Why aren’t you going to try anymore?”
Because it’s over. There won’t be a cure.
“Why would the doctor tell you that?”
She cried, and my younger sister had to explain things to her. She’s worked with elderly people in the medical field, and has some magic way of speaking to them. I just repeat myself over and over while she’s confused and never gets it.
My sisters and I all talked about what needs to be done after; what I want as far as a burial, what becomes of my things, would I leave my nephews letters, all mom’s information that needs to be kept up on so she pays her bills and doesn’t lose the house, etc. All that afterwards stuff.
But I’m still here for who-knows-how-long. So we talked about painful things: betrayals over the years. We gave each other grace (or tried to) concerning all these accumulated ugly moments. They told me different ways they felt blessed to have had me in theirs and their families’ lives. We shared good memories.
They’ve been helping me get groceries and refill my water. One of my sisters is going to stop by more regularly to help me clean things up or run errands. Maybe I can get a wheelchair and she can help me take walks.
Yesterday, mom cleared the living room. I’d ended up having a hard conversation with her about how her hoarding has so negatively effected me. She actually listened this time. It’s not much, and she’s still hoarding it all in a different room; but she wanted to help. Seeing a clear space where there were stacks and stacks of boxes of trash before does help. I feel just a bit less stressed.
I never would have imagined they really cared. We’ve never been a great family. But they are, and I really love them.
Stage IV metastatic breast cancer grew significantly on my lungs these past couple months.
I’ve lost my appetite. Everything tastes wrong or rotten, or hurts my stomach. I’m coughing so much, I vomit. I’m in pain now. I’ve lost 18 pounds, and I’m incredibly weak. I’m not bedridden yet, but trying to clean the house or wash my hair lately makes me exhausted enough to pass out afterwards. I can’t take walks anymore.
So I told my family. And I said 40 years was enough for me, and I want to go home to the Lord asap. I prayed for the end. I think a lot of people reach this point.
I’m not continuing treatment, and I’m asking about a DNR on my next appointment. That was difficult for my mom to understand. “Why aren’t you going to try anymore?”
Because it’s over. There won’t be a cure.
“Why would the doctor tell you that?”
She cried, and my younger sister had to explain things to her. She’s worked with elderly people in the medical field, and has some magic way of speaking to them. I just repeat myself over and over while she’s confused and never gets it.
My sisters and I all talked about what needs to be done after; what I want as far as a burial, what becomes of my things, would I leave my nephews letters, all mom’s information that needs to be kept up on so she pays her bills and doesn’t lose the house, etc. All that afterwards stuff.
But I’m still here for who-knows-how-long. So we talked about painful things: betrayals over the years. We gave each other grace (or tried to) concerning all these accumulated ugly moments. They told me different ways they felt blessed to have had me in theirs and their families’ lives. We shared good memories.
They’ve been helping me get groceries and refill my water. One of my sisters is going to stop by more regularly to help me clean things up or run errands. Maybe I can get a wheelchair and she can help me take walks.
Yesterday, mom cleared the living room. I’d ended up having a hard conversation with her about how her hoarding has so negatively effected me. She actually listened this time. It’s not much, and she’s still hoarding it all in a different room; but she wanted to help. Seeing a clear space where there were stacks and stacks of boxes of trash before does help. I feel just a bit less stressed.
I never would have imagined they really cared. We’ve never been a great family. But they are, and I really love them.
36-40
