Signs of growing old...or signs that we all love our Mom.
My Mom has cancer.
Such a weird thing to type...weird thing to think. Hell...weird to even comprehend.
As a kid...our mothers are almost always our first super hero. No matter how much they annoy us...how they look at us when we play...chase us down the street trying to get us home. Try to keep us from having our 'fun'...when the fit hits the shan...our mommies are the first ones we look for in times of distress. Especially boys.
It's a fact of life...that as children of SOMEONE...on the most BASIC of levels...we exist REALLY to outlive our parents. To be the legacy...to go on as our parents are mortal...just as our children are to go on for us since we are too. On a cerebral level...I totally get it. Yet...now that it's hitting close to home I find myself feeling like an 8 year old boy who scraped his knee on the ground trying like hell to get home to have Mommy kiss it...only to find she's not there.
Losing a parent is a harsh reality. One that hits some when they're very young...and others when they're older. As a man close to entering middle age...I get how blessed I am to even HAVE my parents still drawing breath...let alone still together. It's something that at times I've taken for granted. Even through the past year where I experienced a bevy of adversity...I came through stronger and saw my parent's relationship as something to be discerned...and in some ways emulated. Especially since in a very real way...they've been there for me EVERY SINGLE DAY. So even though I'm stronger now than I ever imagined I could be...I think there's a part of all of us that naturally defer to our parent's thinking and seek their help with the pitfalls of life. I've grown as a man...but that came because my Mom and Dad enabled that growth in me every step of the way this past year.
Yet for all that personal growth...I sit here in the waiting room of Rochester General Hospital...and I can't help thinking about the road to come. Today she's having a procedure done to verify the initial diagnosis. Operable pancreatic cancer. It sounds SO easy and simple. It's just an exploratory procedure. Soooo easy. However...the best news means; she still has cancer. The worst...means...well...the worst. Such a surreal thought.
The next step is the major one. The major operation. With that successful...it starts the road of treatment. Trying to make sure things don't spread. It's a life and death version of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire". Every win...means you risk more to win more. One missed chance...and we're down. It's the most scary thing I've ever experienced.
Doctor's coming...walking away...
The doctor just came in...she's operable. Hallelujah! Everyone is celebrating...and yet for me...I can't seem to rejoice. It's a battle. We won. Yet like Concord...I can't help seeing that this is going to be a long fought road. That the war isn't CLOSE to being ended. Each battle is going to get tougher. Each one has higher stakes. I look down the road...and while I'm happy that she's got a chance...I can't help being a bit nervous. This is my Mommy. I know she's tough. I'm not betting against her...but it's hard to maintain a 'rah rah' mindselt...while knowing what the next steps are. This is the beginning of a long long road. I'm in prayer constantly. I know who the healer is...and I've asked Mom if she's afraid and she's not.
I'm happy though that there IS a chance. Even a sliver. A small hope in an otherwise dark night. If it was inoperable. If the only hope...the only chance was comfort care/treatment...I would be hurting deep. It is a cause to celebrate...so I do. Quietly in my heart. The fight is still upon us.
My Mom is a fighter. She's the strongest woman I have ever met. If anyone can beat this...it's her. I'm not betting against her. I'm just realistic. Scratch that...I'm scared to death...and in a lot of ways...trying to keep myself under control. I need to be. I need to be the man I've grown into. I need to be there for Dad, Betty, the Aunts and Uncles...the cousins...our friends...all of them. I'm my mother's eldest child. It falls to me to fill the gaps and I'm going to do it. To honor her...to revere her...and to show her in action...what I've always said in words. I love my Mom...and she deserves the best.
Also though...I know one other thing. She's a believer. I said it before the official diagnosis. My Mom can't GET cancer...her BODY can...but cancer cannot TOUCH her. Her destination is secured and her victory assured. She gave her life to Christ and I know that means that she's going to beat this...one way or the other.
My Mom has cancer. It isn't a death sentence. It isn't a sprained ankle. It's somewhere between. I guess that's what my feeling is too...somewhere between.
This is a surreal thing. 18 days ago...we didn't know she was even sick...in 6 days she undergoes the biggest surgery she's ever had. The timing...the speed...it's kinda left me feeling a little behind. I'm trying to catch up. I hope I do. For now...I just keep it going.
I love my Mom. I know she can beat this. I'm placing my bet on her...and Christ.
I can't lose...
Thanks for reading;
Such a weird thing to type...weird thing to think. Hell...weird to even comprehend.
As a kid...our mothers are almost always our first super hero. No matter how much they annoy us...how they look at us when we play...chase us down the street trying to get us home. Try to keep us from having our 'fun'...when the fit hits the shan...our mommies are the first ones we look for in times of distress. Especially boys.
It's a fact of life...that as children of SOMEONE...on the most BASIC of levels...we exist REALLY to outlive our parents. To be the legacy...to go on as our parents are mortal...just as our children are to go on for us since we are too. On a cerebral level...I totally get it. Yet...now that it's hitting close to home I find myself feeling like an 8 year old boy who scraped his knee on the ground trying like hell to get home to have Mommy kiss it...only to find she's not there.
Losing a parent is a harsh reality. One that hits some when they're very young...and others when they're older. As a man close to entering middle age...I get how blessed I am to even HAVE my parents still drawing breath...let alone still together. It's something that at times I've taken for granted. Even through the past year where I experienced a bevy of adversity...I came through stronger and saw my parent's relationship as something to be discerned...and in some ways emulated. Especially since in a very real way...they've been there for me EVERY SINGLE DAY. So even though I'm stronger now than I ever imagined I could be...I think there's a part of all of us that naturally defer to our parent's thinking and seek their help with the pitfalls of life. I've grown as a man...but that came because my Mom and Dad enabled that growth in me every step of the way this past year.
Yet for all that personal growth...I sit here in the waiting room of Rochester General Hospital...and I can't help thinking about the road to come. Today she's having a procedure done to verify the initial diagnosis. Operable pancreatic cancer. It sounds SO easy and simple. It's just an exploratory procedure. Soooo easy. However...the best news means; she still has cancer. The worst...means...well...the worst. Such a surreal thought.
The next step is the major one. The major operation. With that successful...it starts the road of treatment. Trying to make sure things don't spread. It's a life and death version of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire". Every win...means you risk more to win more. One missed chance...and we're down. It's the most scary thing I've ever experienced.
Doctor's coming...walking away...
The doctor just came in...she's operable. Hallelujah! Everyone is celebrating...and yet for me...I can't seem to rejoice. It's a battle. We won. Yet like Concord...I can't help seeing that this is going to be a long fought road. That the war isn't CLOSE to being ended. Each battle is going to get tougher. Each one has higher stakes. I look down the road...and while I'm happy that she's got a chance...I can't help being a bit nervous. This is my Mommy. I know she's tough. I'm not betting against her...but it's hard to maintain a 'rah rah' mindselt...while knowing what the next steps are. This is the beginning of a long long road. I'm in prayer constantly. I know who the healer is...and I've asked Mom if she's afraid and she's not.
I'm happy though that there IS a chance. Even a sliver. A small hope in an otherwise dark night. If it was inoperable. If the only hope...the only chance was comfort care/treatment...I would be hurting deep. It is a cause to celebrate...so I do. Quietly in my heart. The fight is still upon us.
My Mom is a fighter. She's the strongest woman I have ever met. If anyone can beat this...it's her. I'm not betting against her. I'm just realistic. Scratch that...I'm scared to death...and in a lot of ways...trying to keep myself under control. I need to be. I need to be the man I've grown into. I need to be there for Dad, Betty, the Aunts and Uncles...the cousins...our friends...all of them. I'm my mother's eldest child. It falls to me to fill the gaps and I'm going to do it. To honor her...to revere her...and to show her in action...what I've always said in words. I love my Mom...and she deserves the best.
Also though...I know one other thing. She's a believer. I said it before the official diagnosis. My Mom can't GET cancer...her BODY can...but cancer cannot TOUCH her. Her destination is secured and her victory assured. She gave her life to Christ and I know that means that she's going to beat this...one way or the other.
My Mom has cancer. It isn't a death sentence. It isn't a sprained ankle. It's somewhere between. I guess that's what my feeling is too...somewhere between.
This is a surreal thing. 18 days ago...we didn't know she was even sick...in 6 days she undergoes the biggest surgery she's ever had. The timing...the speed...it's kinda left me feeling a little behind. I'm trying to catch up. I hope I do. For now...I just keep it going.
I love my Mom. I know she can beat this. I'm placing my bet on her...and Christ.
I can't lose...
Thanks for reading;
Comments
And just so you know... what you are feeling isn't unusual. I remember vividly sitting next to my mom at a church service,(at the point where she was no longer taking care of herself) and reaching out to take her hand. Not because she needed comfort, but because I needed to feel like a kid again.
I will pray for you and your family. Remember Romans 8:28.
Blessings