Monique M., May 1938-November 9, 2015
(I expect to update the title before too long)
This was the diceyness mentioned earlier.
My mother has stage four lung cancer (half left lung collapsed with air pockets - sounds counter-intuitive that it would be bad, but it's not air where air should be - spread to the liver below it and metastasised brain tumours) and is not expected to last the weekend. Might not even make it to the weekend. We're now on death watch.
We had noticed her getting frailer and more tired in mid-summer. Early September, she fell on her left side suddenly - on loose rocks surrounding the house, past midnight, while returning from her outside smoke (while watching TV through a window with her omnipresent wireless headphones). A few days later, she fell again, different part of the house, same type of rocks. We figured that really jostled things. But no, it was the brain tumours finally manifesting themselves aggressively.
We got her to the hospital on the day after Labour Day - the last day she was home, saw the cats, or lived her regular life. After a catscan, they quickly asked for another with contrast ("here, drink THIS"), where they found the tumours. While they knew it was secondary cells, and hadn't yet done x-rays to check where the primary tumours were... smoker for 55 years pretty much nailed it for us. We knew. We just didn't know when it would hit.
No need for biopsy after the chest x-ray, because that's only to try and treat it with chemo. At 77, too old, too frail, too weak, and too stubborn to try and fight the unfightable. But we did get a week of radiation treatments, which managed to get her left side working somewhat again.
Early October, she got transferred to St-Vincent, part of the Elisabeth-Bruyère group, downtown. Good care, there. Good place. But a few days ago I suspect the radiation's effects wore off and the tumours grew rapidly again. She fights to breathe. We are there when we can, and we ask for pain treatment but nothing else.
I have possibly the strongest link of all three children to my mother. I grew up with her for 20 years, and she marked me - mostly in positive ways. Even my sweetie, having met my mother but a few times, saw from those visits and from my talking of my mother how she influenced me in being the person that they fell in love with. We had our differences, but rarely quarelled. She helped me in times I needed it and allowed me to make mistakes, but also to take risks and end up having wonderful memories I would not have been able to have otherwise.
I dearly love my mother, and will miss her terribly. I do not know how I will take this when it happens, which is why I am typing this now. This weekend will be rough, and I don't know how I will feel at the end of it, or further down the line.
I thank you in advance for your kind words. I have some emotional support, and a few arms to hug me. Most people go through this and continue their lives - especially when it's not unexpected.
Bonsoir, mamon. Merci pour tout...
This was the diceyness mentioned earlier.
My mother has stage four lung cancer (half left lung collapsed with air pockets - sounds counter-intuitive that it would be bad, but it's not air where air should be - spread to the liver below it and metastasised brain tumours) and is not expected to last the weekend. Might not even make it to the weekend. We're now on death watch.
We had noticed her getting frailer and more tired in mid-summer. Early September, she fell on her left side suddenly - on loose rocks surrounding the house, past midnight, while returning from her outside smoke (while watching TV through a window with her omnipresent wireless headphones). A few days later, she fell again, different part of the house, same type of rocks. We figured that really jostled things. But no, it was the brain tumours finally manifesting themselves aggressively.
We got her to the hospital on the day after Labour Day - the last day she was home, saw the cats, or lived her regular life. After a catscan, they quickly asked for another with contrast ("here, drink THIS"), where they found the tumours. While they knew it was secondary cells, and hadn't yet done x-rays to check where the primary tumours were... smoker for 55 years pretty much nailed it for us. We knew. We just didn't know when it would hit.
No need for biopsy after the chest x-ray, because that's only to try and treat it with chemo. At 77, too old, too frail, too weak, and too stubborn to try and fight the unfightable. But we did get a week of radiation treatments, which managed to get her left side working somewhat again.
Early October, she got transferred to St-Vincent, part of the Elisabeth-Bruyère group, downtown. Good care, there. Good place. But a few days ago I suspect the radiation's effects wore off and the tumours grew rapidly again. She fights to breathe. We are there when we can, and we ask for pain treatment but nothing else.
I have possibly the strongest link of all three children to my mother. I grew up with her for 20 years, and she marked me - mostly in positive ways. Even my sweetie, having met my mother but a few times, saw from those visits and from my talking of my mother how she influenced me in being the person that they fell in love with. We had our differences, but rarely quarelled. She helped me in times I needed it and allowed me to make mistakes, but also to take risks and end up having wonderful memories I would not have been able to have otherwise.
I dearly love my mother, and will miss her terribly. I do not know how I will take this when it happens, which is why I am typing this now. This weekend will be rough, and I don't know how I will feel at the end of it, or further down the line.
I thank you in advance for your kind words. I have some emotional support, and a few arms to hug me. Most people go through this and continue their lives - especially when it's not unexpected.
Bonsoir, mamon. Merci pour tout...