Here's another excerpt from the story I'm writing about my mom's cancer journey.
It really was the best of times and worst of times. Hard to believe it was only in late 2014... It feels like forever ago.
For nearly a year, Mom’s pain had been at a steady ten. That is, on a scale from on to ten, ten being the highest amount of pain, Mom rated her pain as a ceaseless ten for many months.
It had been at a steady four, and then suddenly became a ten, and we didn’t know why. She didn’t know why. We each quietly wondered if the cancer was back with a vengeance. We said nothing, and waited for the doctor’s opinion.
The good news was that the cancer had not returned. The bad news was that her hip had collapsed. The intense, excruciating pain she was in was a result of her bones crumpling in on themselves. Bone on bone, Mom said. The doctors were highly optimistic about her having a hip replacement, and scheduled her as soon as they could.
It was a five month wait.
It really was the best of times and worst of times. Hard to believe it was only in late 2014... It feels like forever ago.
For nearly a year, Mom’s pain had been at a steady ten. That is, on a scale from on to ten, ten being the highest amount of pain, Mom rated her pain as a ceaseless ten for many months.
It had been at a steady four, and then suddenly became a ten, and we didn’t know why. She didn’t know why. We each quietly wondered if the cancer was back with a vengeance. We said nothing, and waited for the doctor’s opinion.
The good news was that the cancer had not returned. The bad news was that her hip had collapsed. The intense, excruciating pain she was in was a result of her bones crumpling in on themselves. Bone on bone, Mom said. The doctors were highly optimistic about her having a hip replacement, and scheduled her as soon as they could.
It was a five month wait.
During those months, Mom became more hunched as she hobbled slowly on two canes. Her grandchildren soon included those two canes in pictures they drew of her. She would make her way to work every day. Thankfully she could still sit, so could still work. Then she would slowly make her way back home each day where she would lay, exhausted from each painful step.
She was on the most powerful pain medication available, and still her pain was at a constant, never ending ten.
Her nights were fitful and restless, and she would whimper in her sleep. Dad could only watch and listen as his wife was tortured by this pain day and night. He could not help. He could not sleep. His nights also became fitful and restless, and he too was tortured by her pain.
As weeks turned to months, and the pain never stopped, her face became taut and pinched. The pain had etched a scowl on her face, though she didn’t know it. She was too busy trying to survive each day to smile. Whether from exhaustion, pain, or medication, her eyes were dim.
It was a grim time, and painful to watch. In a way, I could understand why people consider ending their lives when tormented so.
Finally, finally, surgery day arrived.
The house had been prepared with all its raised seats and grip bars. The walker and scooter awaited. All was ready.
Dad brought Mom to the hospital, and the doctors set to work. It’s amazing how they can open up a person’s body, remove broken parts, and replace them with new mechanical parts.
Mark, the kids, and I visited Mom that Saturday evening, two days after her surgery. She laid awake, and greeted us with a smile.
Already, she was different.
Her face was not pinched in angry looking lines. Her voice was smooth and relaxed - friendly, not sharp and short as it had been. And her eyes! They were bright and round.
“You look great! And you even sound different!” I said.
“Everyone is saying that!” she laughed. She did not realize how the pain had pinched and hunched her.
“How’s the pain?” we asked.
“There is still some surgery-related pain, but to go from a constant ten to a three-” she sighed and a smile spread across her satisfied face, “that’s like nothing. The difference is amazing.”
We shared a long, smiling moment of relief, thanking God in our hearts for this wonderful gift. “Mom’s back…” I thought.
