Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Your Healing Thoughts


Writers are taught to show, not tell.

If you've been following my blog (all two of you) since its birth, you are aware of my mother's amazing journey with ovarian cancer. She was diagnosed with badbadbad Stage IV disease in May, 2006 and is miraculously still alive. We found out today she's been approved to be Patient One in a groovy clinical trial.

But then.

But then her doctor noticed she was listening with one eye closed. Mother's explanation? Her "glasses must be messed up or something," because she's been seeing double for a week out of her right eye.

So off we dashed for an MRI of her brain; we will know the results tomorrow when we go for a spinal tap.

I've known the word "metastasis" would enter our vocabulary eventually. I hope it will not be tomorrow.

No words, at least none I can wrangle, can do justice to the destruction of this disease. I clicked on an "event" in iPhoto yesterday and saw it like some perverse makeover ad. 

I simply cannot tell you. 

So I will show you.

My mother (age 82) and daughter (age 3) in October, 2003:



My mother (age 87) and daughter (age 8) in December 2008:



I'll let you know how it goes.

Update 12/31: Mother's doctor confirmed metastasis to the brain this morning, and ordered radiation treatments that began this afternoon. Thanks to all who have responded by email, phone, facebook, and in person.

6 comments:

Sarah said...

My heart goes out to you and your family. I am sorry that you are having to go through this awful waiting game. Take care. Sarah x

bluelikethesky said...

Thank you, Sarah. Her spirit is strong and she's forging ahead. Everyone's positive thoughts are a huge help.

Anonymous said...

All best wishes to you and your family. Brent

Kelly Hudgins said...

Thanks, old friend. She's doing well. The radiation is easier than the chemo, and she's energized and happy. One day at a time, and all that. I just realized I don't know your parental situation these days. News?

Linnea said...

I can tell from the picture she's a tough lady. What a smile. You are both in my prayers. Hang in there.

Kelly Hudgins said...

Thanks, Linnea. It's such a quiet toughness that it took me almost 50 years to recognize it as such. For years I thought it was "blandness;" now I know how to recognize perseverance when I see it.