Mom

Multiple Myeloma. These two nicely alliterated words meanly shot into my family.  At the beginning of October, my mom went into the ER with her kidneys on the fritz and came out with a cancer diagnosis.  I can only speak for myself, I was devastated.  The unknowns crushed me like grapes in a winepress.  Is it curable?  What stage is it in?  Will she lose her hair?  Chemo, radiation, something other?  How long will she have?  Is it months or years?  How will she handle it?  Can she be brave or will she struggle through it all?  Then I turned selfish.  Why Lord? I can’t imagine life without my mom! Why allow this when we are so close to living in the same State for the first time since I graduated high school and college?  I didn’t get to know my grandparents due to their untimely deaths, how could God take my mom away from my kids when they were just going to get to know her?  Forgotten memories were found again as I collapsed and ugly sobbed on the floor.  The next few weeks…and months if I’m honest…I would randomly tear up when I thought about my mom and what she was going to face.  The crazy thing is, that was just my experience outside of her diagnosis, I can’t comprehend what she was feeling being on the personal side of it.

As time went on, marked by her many appointments, a plan was made.  Chemo pills were taken and she was monitored for various electrolyte levels and the percentage of cancer in her marrow (over 70%).  She was found eligible for stem cell replacement because she is a strong, lively lady who works hard.  She would begin that treatment in February.  They would take out her blood, spin it to clean it, then put it on frozen nitrogen until it was time to put it back in her.  Before they could put it back in, her body would be atomic bombed by chemo.  The chemo would kill the bad blood cells by the next day but the effects would not be seen for a week.  Two days after her chemo took place, her clean blood was warmed up and transfused back into her body.  In order to see if the treatment worked the blood doctor would check her platelets, white blood cells, hemoglobin and neutrophil counts daily.  These are all parts of her blood.  When the neutrophil count got to zero, they would then give her a shot to help her bone marrow start making good blood again.  If everything went as planned, by day 10 all her blood counts should be close to normal.  That would tell us that the chemo and stem cell replacement worked and she could leave the hospital.

If you are like me, you read the above paragraph and scratch your head.  Maybe you even skim over it not really caring about the details.  To be honest, we used this information as a way to predict how long her stay would be in the hospital.  But even that waned as the effects of the atomic bomb showed up violently in her entire GI tract, rash, loss of hair, throat swelling, legs retaining water, and no energy.  The days were a roller coaster of highs and lows that came in shocking speed.  She would feel good and lift the lid off her food tray and promptly vomit.  I would rub her back, massage her shoulders, and tell her how sorry I was…but I know the words fell flat.  Only my mom knows exactly what she is feeling.  The pain, the struggle, the hopelessness, the doubts, the exhaustion. We all come in, visit, talk, encourage, and even explain, but we can walk away feeling normal.  She can’t.  The way her body felt informed her soul.  If her body felt well, she was talkative and upbeat, but when her  body exploded, her soul slid to depression.  I could watch it, yet I couldn’t know her pain intimately. Oh how I wanted to take the pain from her.  I watched helplessly as her body wretched, pulse went up, and legs swelled.  

As of today, my mom is still in the hospital fighting the side effects of the treatment.  It’s odd, the treatment worked!  But she can’t go home because the effects are still raging on. I’m no longer by her side but my dad is, doing a great job.  We watch numbers and talk about her side effects like watching a movie, we see it, but can’t feel it.  It’s like someone telling you all about their vacation to Paris, you can picture it in your head, but until you go there, you won’t be able to intimately comprehend it. One thing I do know, my mom is not just fighting for her own life, but for Ernie, Christopher, Leah, Lexi, Grayson, Jonathan, Amy, Olivia, Isabelle, Elayna, JJ, Katie Ann, James Luther, Barrett, Colleen, Annabelle, Ronnie, and Lydia.  She is fighting not only for us, but for all who know and love her.  I’m so thankful for this, for her.

I don’t know if she sees it or not, but she is being like Christ.  Christ suffered intimately for us so we wouldn’t have to.  His suffering, pain, soul searching, and even death was for the benefit of others.  He asked God to take away His suffering if that was His will, but God said no.  Jesus obeyed and went through it all and came out a conquering hero.  His pain, death, and resurrection made eternal life possible for not only him, but for all who trust in him.  My mom is following in her saviors footsteps, she is suffering and fighting not just for her own life, but for the lives of those who love her.  Thanks mom.  We are all so grateful.