Little Battles, Big Differences

This last week has been filled with ups and downs. It seems that with each passing day, symptoms get a bit more severe and even simple things more tiresome. For example, Gwennie and I went on a pharmacy mission to grab up various types of reading glasses to see if any would help her eyes focus while reading emails. And of all things, dental floss became an issue. Her teeth feel tighter, and all the floss we had was either too stringy, not stringy enough, too smooth, not smooth enough, you get the picture. After days of trial and error, the little floss sticks were a major home run.

We roll our eyes when Mom starts a sentence with, "you know what I need?" but the truth is there's nothing we'd rather be doing than reading up on dental floss on consumer reports. This is why we're here, and every little effort people make to accommodate Mom's ever changing needs make such a difference in her daily life.

Because our mother is so proactive and such a fighter, our conversations of late have been about what does Mom feel like she has to do versus what she wants to do. For some, the answer might seem very obvious, but for my mother, who is an infinite do-er, it has been hard for her to slow down. We've talked about what enhances her life from here on out, however long that may be, and how does she want to spend the time she has. She continues with her acupuncture, meditation, and massage regularly, which helps control pain, stress, promote circulation, and allow for healing energy to be accessed. There's no question that these tools have helped and will continue to do so.

So the big question: when is enough enough? Imagine you had advanced, metastatic disease, and someone told you they thought if you followed their strict regimen of filtered water, supplements, smoothies, and therapy, you might cure yourself. Would you do it? Would you go to another country and do clinical trials? Would you be able to find peace or rather die fighting? How often are we forced to think about these things?

Ever since the first time cancer entered our family's daily vocabulary, people from all walks of life have offered up suggestions. With Mom's disease being as advanced as it is, she's taken a "well, then I just need to fight it harder" approach. She is truly unbelievable. If most of us were in her shoes, we'd put on our slippers and eat ice cream for every meal.

With all these symptoms, it has really forced my mother marinate in reality. I think she's realized that she can refocus her energy from working towards a physical healing, to just living the life she has in happiness and peace. Just when I think my mother can't amaze me any more, she recently said to me, "I just don't want to stop fighting because I don't want you and Gwennie to think I'm giving up. I want to set a good example." Sniffle...

I just had absorb that for a minute. It seemed CRAZY to me that she would be doing this all for us, the hours of therapy with healers, the timeless research on vitamix blenders and alkaline water filtration systems, the homework. All I could do was reassure her, that the decision to be less proactive is not to welcome death, but to move forward bravely and with grace.

Any book on death and dying will discuss the need to give permission for loved ones to go. But my mother is very much alive and living, and nothing prepares you to look one another in the eyes and have a discussion about giving it everything you've got, or just enjoying your time together.

Since my mother's decision to ease up on her therapies, it has allowed more time for visits with friends and family, which she believes is really where she draws the most quality of life from. We've been able to just sit for hours, and sometimes we're just working on our computers side by side, but we're present, and we're there together. We talk about how cheated she feels; wanting to see Gwennie graduate from college and me get married and become a mother. We acknowledge it is unfair and it sucks, but then we talk about those events in our future, and how Mom imagines those times, what she would say to us, how she would participate, and we know, that when those times come, she will be there and active in spirit.

My mother has only ever wanted to be the miracle patient who walked out of hospice. It has taken her a long time to absorb that no matter how much she does, she may not impact the outcome, but to do less, makes her no less a failure. She is brave, graceful, and is setting an example not to just my sister and myself, but to all of us. Perhaps the miracle won't be her physical healing, but there are other miracles happening every day. My sister and I are together, with our mother, almost every day. My mother has had the opportunity to make amends with people and emotions of her past. She's found a place for spirituality in her life that never existed so strongly before. These are the real miracles, and we are grateful for them.