My mom has cancer. Tell me I'll get through this

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

My mom has just been diagnosed with cancer. It’s not a little cancer, it’s a lot of cancer. I can’t bring myself to say it fully but I don’t think she will survive it. She starts chemo soon. They are doing a biopsy on wednesday. She had blood work done yesterday.

Years ago I quit my job, sold most of my belongings and moved back home to help her with my dad and his passing. I did not expect to be doing the same thing so soon for her as well. Most of her care is going to fall on me. I have also just started school to be a care aid so I am going to have a lot on my plate.

I am completely devastated. Normally I’m a pretty strong person but I hugged my mom and sobbed when we found out. My wall that I normally have up is pretty broken. At first I thought I could be strong but I don’t know if I have the strength to do this. And it’s not like I have a choice. Whether I can or can’t it’s still going to happen.

Please, I just need to hear that I will get through this. Please tell me your experiences. Even if they end in death because that is where we’re going to be. Tell me how you felt and what you did and how you kept living your life during it all.

2

FloatyGimpy - I’m sorry to hear about your mom. Hopefully treatments will prolong her life. My experience when my father was dying of cancer is that you get through one day at a time, one issue at a time.You can’t look too far ahead - that’s too daunting. Instead you do the steps - chemo, surgery, doctor’s visits. If it comes to a terminal diagnosis, you call in hospice and start letting them help with the steps. Many people have had wonderful experiences with hospice caregivers. My family’s experience was less positive, but they still had their uses. But basically you just work the problem you have immediately. One day at a time.

StG

3

{{{{{FloatyGimpy}}}}}

My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer in December 2018. She had always had lung issues, every winter brought a chesty cold/cough and she was often in and out of hospital with pneumonia, bronchitis and chest infections. She eventually saw a doc at the hospital who insisted on a barrage of follow-up tests and thus came the diagnosis.

She lived about 80 miles away from me (in the UK, that’s a fair distance!) so I normally visited every fortnight or so - she called me on a Friday to tell me what happened, knowing I was coming to see her on the Sunday. I put the phone down and collapsed in tears, I hadn’t wanted to hear it and there was no way on earth I was prepared for it.

From then on, we didn’t exactly ignore the diagnosis but we spent a fair time acting like it didn’t exist. She had a couple of bronchoscopy procedures and a lung biopsy, I was with her for all of those and stayed with her afterwards as she needed someone around for 24hrs. She wasn’t offered chemo, just a course of radiotherapy. It turns out that she went to most of those appointments by herself - I asked her if she wanted me to take her, she said a friend was taking her. The same friend asked to take her, she said I was doing that. We didn’t find out until much later that she had hidden it from us, for her own reasons.

Mum and I spent most of the next 12 months doing things she wanted to do, when she was still feeing reasonably fit and well, we went to visit places she’s wanted to see but hadn’t been able to. Towards the end, when she was much less mobile and active, we spent time sorting through old photos and mementos, picking out bits of jewellery that she wanted to give to people, and making sure all her affairs were in order. She never talked about what the doc told her, she never mentioned how long they might have said she’d got, but it was obvious towards the end of 2019 that she was deteriorating quite seriously.

I think at some point she came to accept that she didn’t have long left, and wanted to make sure she had done everything she needed to do. She was rushed into hospital on 1st January 2020, as soon as I got the call, I went straight over there and spent the day at her bedside. She was either very sleepy or wide awake and argumentative, she wanted to go home but there was no way she could have left the hospital. The doc there took me off to a side room and had the conversation I was dreading, telling me she only had a few days left and that I should get family together to say goodbye to her. She passed away on 4th Jan, I was with her at the end and have never been more grateful to be by her side.

It was a very tough time, it was hard to deal with seeing her change from the fit and active person I’d know, to someone who needed help to get out of a chair and had shrunk in both stature and personality. She had been given an appointment later in January for a hospice visit, I am just sorry she never got to see the place or spend her last days there because she had always said she didn’t want to die in hospital. It still eats away at me that she didn’t get that final wish, that I didn’t push harder, I didn’t do more, I wasn’t there more often. I don’t wish that on anyone.

I hope the chemo gives your mother and you more time together and that you get to make precious memories while you can. Take things slowly, focus on the here and now, on what you can deal with, don’t look too far ahead and don’t fill your head and heart with “what if”.

4

I’m very sorry you and your family are faced with this.

You didn’t say what sort of cancer your mom has, but I’ll share my experience. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and had a mastectomy. Then cancer was found in her other breast, and she had another mastectomy.

This happened in the late 70s / early 80s, when she was in her mid-50s. Mom did die, but it was in 2019, and it wasn’t from cancer. She led an active, cancer-free life for the vast majority of her time after the mastectomies.

I don’t know what sort of prognosis your mom has, but don’t automatically assume it’s a death sentence. Even in the worst cases, miracles can happen. It’s not smart to depend on a miracle, but don’t rule it out, either.

5

They think the cancer started in her ovary and it has spread to other areas. I’ve been feeling completely hopeless and think that this will be her last year. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed and not thinking about it properly. Maybe there is a chance. Even 5 more years would be good. I still think that I’m right but it’s nice to have a few moments without the feeling of her dying very soon.

6

Some wise words here from others. I have no words but much sympathy. ((@FloatyGimpy ))

7

I’m so sorry.

You will get through this. Loss is such a terrible thing to go through, unexpected loss even more so. A very good friend of my wife and mine lost her battle with cancer last year. She left behind a husband and 2 sons (ages 8 and 10). I honestly don’t know how they manage - I can’t comprehend that level of grief. They’re all in counseling, and they struggle. But they were able to go on vacations, able to post pictures of themselves smiling and happy, and they continue their lives. I can’t comprehend it, but they do. The loss of our friend has put a giant hole in our lives - I cannot comprehend the vacuum in theirs.

I don’t know your mom’s timeline. But every moment is precious, and you should relish every chance you have of spending time with her.

Fuck cancer.

8

My wife died last year from metastatic breast cancer that had spread all through her organs before being detected. But still she lasted almost 8 years after the cancer was already throughout her ovaries, and well into her liver, abdominal lining, lungs, bones, and eventually brain. She’d been apparently cancer-free for nearly a decade since her original diagnosis, then suddenly this unseen bomb exploded in our lives.

Those 8 were some of the most precious years of our 33 year marriage. Difficult, but precious. The last 6 months were not a real fun experience for either of us, but 10 days before she died we went to a baseball game and 3 days before she died we had lunch out, with no inkling the end was that close. Then suddenly the wheels fell off and she was gone.

It sounds corny, but “You can do this. We can help.” It’s important to be realistic. Don’t look backwards, but also don’t look too far forwards. Take it one day at a time. There is joy in each day, no matter how circumscribed.

None of us, not you, not me, not my 2yo grandkid, will get out of this life alive. None of us. If your Mom wasn’t going to take this road out, she’d be taking a different road out. And in fact may well do so, no matter how dire her immediate diagnosis / prognosis turns out to be.

Ultimately what killed my wife wasn’t the cancer itself. It was massively assisted by the presence of the cancer, but fully could have occurred on its own absent any cancer.

The only guarantee life holds is that you’re gonna die. Taxes can be evaded after all, but not the Grim Reaper. He’s one to a customer, guaranteed.

It took me some years to become comfortable with this reality. And I don’t claim I’ve got it totally on board now. But managing your expectations so they include the death of the older people in your life goes a long way to being able to manage what you can affect, accept what you can’t affect, and keep your stuff together while doing both those things.

If I can help in any way, publicly or via PM, just ask. I’ve got lots of practice caring for people I love who’re taking a long walk on a short pier.

9

That’s amazing and is giving me a little hope. They mentioned the wall lining and anything I read about it says it’s a death sentence. I’m so sorry for your loss but so thankful you will help me with your experience.

I will definitely be leaning on those of you who have gone through it.

I guess our bodies can only be in that crisis devastation mode for so long because I’ve finally stopped crying after two days. I can’t think of anything but today. She did some housework earlier. I don’t know if I should stop her and do everything for her or let her do what she wants. Also once chemo starts I know it will all fall on me which is fine.

I’m trying to just focus on today. I’ve started writing a letter to her going over good memories.

10

Let her do what she wants/is able to. IME, having choice or control over yourself being taken away is far worse than any illness or disease symptom.

I’m 10 years cancer free post surgery.

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{{{FloatyGimpy}}} You are one of the strongest people I know and you will get through this. I’m sending you my best wishes and support. Please keep us posted. :people_hugging:

12

I’m so, so sorry, hon! :heartbeat:

You will survive it because people are most resilient when things are at their worst! Also, don’t give up hope. With your help and love, she may yet beat this. There are many amazing stories of survival against heavy odds, and your mom’s may be one of them!

13

Oh man. When I came home for summer break between my sophomore and junior year of college, my mother lay around on the couch all day. I didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was a Christian Scientist and did not want any sort medical diagnosis or treatment. Towards the end of June, she went into a care home. I and my two siblings watched helplessly. We thought it was absurd that she was wasting away and not doing anything to stop it besides praying. My father attempted to reason with her, and she grew angry and distressed and asked him to cut down on his visits because his negativity was interfering with her efforts to heal herself through prayer.

When she died and autopsy was performed, we finally learned what had been ailing her: breast cancer.

Take solace in the fact that your mother is in good hands. The doctors know what’s wrong, and they know how to treat it to ensure the best chance of survival.

How did I keep living my life? Honestly, when my mother first died I did not want to be alone with my thoughts. I went to a party about an hour after I got news of my mother’s death because I desperately wanted to pretend life was normal. The first couple days afterwards, I remember asking friends to stay in the room with me as I tried to get some sleep. I got excellent grades that semester because I liked the distraction of homework. I had an incredibly perky demeanor at my mother’s funeral because I did not want to inspire looks of sympathy. I went to therapy and wrote in my journal and gradually coped with my mother’s death, but the coping process took years.

The best advice I can give you is be gentle with yourself. If there are moments where you feel as though you can’t behave the way people are expecting you too, forgive yourself. If you’re trying to be strong but you can’t hold it together, forgive yourself. It is natural and normal to have moments of weakness and sadness. It is also natural and normal to have moments of joy – don’t feel guilty about those. Uncertainty about matters as big as the life or death of a family member are incredibly hard to emotionally cope with, but it helps to be gentle with yourself.

14

I’m sorry.

My own thoughts are conflicting. Having just lost my own mother recently, suddenly (not to cancer), I’m kind of thinking it’s somewhat of a blessing you have some foreknowledge and can spend time with her while you can.

OTOH, while I did not have the opportunity to have final words with her, I’m somewhat grateful she did not suffer for a long time and went quickly.

I don’t really have a point here. Just spend time with her while you can.

15

I think you need to have a conversation with your mom’s oncologist, if she’ll sign off on that. It used to be that metastasis was a death knell, but surprisingly often, that’s no longer the case. Three years ago, my friend was diagnosed with stage IV non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Her spleen was loaded with cancer, and her PET scan showed her body was speckled with it. But surprisingly, the doctor said her odds were very good, that chemo has advanced so far that the 5-year survival rate was very high. And chemo, which she’d dreaded, wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.

So I think you need a realistic picture of what lies ahead instead of relying on Google and what’s been true in years past. Any study you can find online, my own cancer surgeon told me, is outdated. That’s how fast the research is moving.

And if the prognosis is grim, it’s still better to know realistically what lies ahead. In the meantime, you’ve been dealt a blow. As others have said, be gentle with yourself.

16

My mother is dealing with cancer and some other infirmities. While talking about it with family my BIL, whose been a doctor (not an oncologist) for 30 years, expressed amazement at the improvements in treatment over his career. Treatments that would have been ridiculous to suggest 15 years ago, like the surgery my mom had, are now state of the art. Trust the real doctors, not Dr. Google.

Other than that, I think there is a great deal already written here that is worth taking to heart. Take it one day at a time, spend time with your mom, focus on her (and your) quality of life. Check into her insurance to determine if you can get help with her care, take the help you can get, there are a lot of resources out there.

17

Fortunately we are in Canada so there isn’t any insurance issues to deal with. My heart breaks for people who have to deal with that on top of everything else. I’ve already been in direct contact with her oncologist and my mom has asked me to take the lead role in this.

The oppressive and overwhelming shock has worn off somewhat. This thread has given me a bit of unlooked-for hope. Even if it’s a fool’s hope, it’s very welcome. I ended up with dizziness and a fever yesterday I guess from stress.

It’s interesting how staring down death in a loved one can put life in perspective. Stupid little perceived slights just don’t matter. Even real grievances that you hold on to lose their grip. It just doesn’t matter. I told her that I loved her very much, we’ll get through this together and she doesn’t have to do this alone, I’ll be with her every step of the way and to lean on me for support.

I haven’t had an always easy life but May 24th was, so far, the worst day of my life. I know worse is to come. But maybe it’ll be in a couple of years rather than months.

18

If she wants to clean, let her. Even with chemo, there will be good days between chemo treatments. It’s important that she be allowed to live her life between treatments. And yeah, don’t give up before you really understand her treatment plan, her prognosis, and her wishes. Don’t assume chemo will put her in bed - my sister got through her chemo very well, as well as two surgeries and radiation (unrelated breast cancer and thyroid cancer in the same year). My mother had uterine cancer when she was pregnant with me, and breast cancer 30 years later. Neither caused her death, that was a massive stroke another 15 years after the breast cancer.

StG

19

Uterine cancer while she was pregnant with you? How are YOU still here?

I’m a BCS myself, and while I had just a little bit of cancer that is unlikely to come back, it was still MY cancer. My own mother had the same experience in 1984, and she’s still here too.

FG, not only do you take things a day at a time, you (and she) may be taking things a MINUTE at time for some periods. Quality of life is also very important, and any decisions she makes must be respected.

20

I was the 7th child in 6 years, including 2 sets of twins, one set born prematurely and died. She complained of being tired, but figured it was just all that. She said she weighed 10 lbs less the day before I was born than she did when she became pregnant. They found the cancer when I was born a month early. They did a hysterectomy 3 weeks after I was born. She said she always planned on having kids right up to the last minute, she just didn’t think 29 would be the last minute. We’re a big Irish Catholic family - 42 first cousins. She was one of 11, and I think she always would’ve loved a few more.

Of the 11, 6 had cancer. I’m one of 5 (not including the twins that died) and 3 of use have had cancer. Next week it’ll be a year since sarcoma took one of my sisters.

StG