I’m struggling hard right now.
You all know my mom has had some health issues recently. About ten days ago, she went in for a test. Today the doctor called her to tell her she has uterine cancer. Even typing that makes me feel sick. I came home from PT around 2pm, and by then I knew she would have had her phone call from the doctor with the test results. I had a bad feeling on and off all morning, but chalked it up to me just looking for something to worry about. But when I got home and I called to see what the results were, she told me it wasn’t good. And then she said the doctor said the pathology said uterine cancer, and they wanted to move forward with a hysterectomy sooner rather than later.
I held up on the phone call, and I assured her I was okay. I assured her that we would be here to take care of her, of my father, of their dog while she is in the hospital. They said they expected her to be in the hospital 3-4 days, barring anything unforeseen. We don’t know yet if they are considering laproscopic surgery, but I assume if they are saying 3-4 days, it won’t be laproscopic. But 3-4 days in the hospital–with my dad at her side and my brother at work most of the day–someone has to take care of Cray-cray Lab (and our dogs). I’ll do it, it’s no question…but it means I won’t be able to be with her at the hospital, too, while she’s recovering. Hub has already said he’ll take the day off of her surgery to watch all 3 dogs while I’m with my dad at the hospital. My uncle (her brother) and my aunt will likely be there with us, too. And when she comes home, I’ll be here to help them, too. It’s why we live so close…for which I continue to be eternally grateful.
One part of my brain is settled…yes, we’ll handle this. Yes, I’ll be there for my dad during the surgery…yes, I’ll be there to help Mom with what she needs. One part of my brain is … whirring. Like someone gave it a gallon of Red Bull. And I feel like a junky with regards to Google. I want so much to go search everything. Uterine cancer. The surgery. The recovery. Will there be chemo? Radiation? What’s the success rate and the is this the kind of cancer that spreads? What is the long-term prognosis? What about the doctor? Is he good? The surgeon he coordinates with for this kind of surgery? What’s his deal? The hospital? What about heredity? Is uterine cancer hereditary like they say breast cancer is? My fingers itch. My brain itches.
After my mother called to tell me and I assured her I was okay, I hung up the phone and cried. I cried because I’m afraid of what if… Because this is my mom. Because I can’t do anything. Because I don’t know what to do first. I kept reminding myself to be in the moment, what is happening right now that needs to be dealt with. I changed my clothes, I ate a snack, I tried to trim Le Moo’s paws (did front two, then she ran off and wouldn’t let me do the back paws), I went outside and cleaned up poop. Then Hub got home and he hugged me. And since then he’s been working on stuff for his office and I’ve been itching. Avoiding my laptop because I was afraid that the minute I touched it, I would go Google.
I’m touching the laptop and I’m not Googling. But the urge is so bad… It won’t help me; I know it won’t help me. It will make this worse. And as I consider the “what if” game, the thought of taking that to it’s worst end is almost horrifying to me. I don’t want to play that. I don’t want to talk to my brothers when they find out (and call me to talk). I want to be calm. I want to be strong. I will find ways to do those things for my Mom and Dad. But here in the now, I am so afraid.
I feel rambling and out of it. I’m really writing this for me, for my record of what is happening in my life. I’m not Googling. I’m not going to. Googling things won’t change the outcome of what is going to be….because it will be what it will be. And right now, I need to be in my right brain to help where I can, with what I can. Which means supporting my parents and taking care of the home front. Those things I CAN do. I can’t change the outcome of the surgery or the cancer.
I still feel sick and afraid. And I’m sad. And I want people to understand that “sad” does not mean “clinically depressed.” I want my family to understand that I can be afraid and sad in this kind of situation…but that it’s not panic, anxiety, or depression. If ever there was a situation for sad and afraid (and even a little panic), it would be this one.