I recently spent a little time going back through my journal entries. I’m so grateful that I’ve managed to maintain enough focus and discipline to do so, as it’s filled with details and nuances of this experience that I would otherwise have lost to the elements and nuances of the present. Not to mention being cathartic.
On the heels of her diagnosis and surgery, the hard truth remains that there has never been a point at which any progress or updates have been relatively “good” news. There have been surprises and perceived improvements throughout this arduous and grueling process. After almost one whole week of the post-operative need to physically restrain her to prevent her thrashing attempts to get up, and her non-stop crying out for help as the medical team shared never having seen this last so long and fears that this might be her baseline going forward, she started to come out of that and gradually become more capable of understanding and cooperating through her recovery. That was “good” news. When she was released from rehabilitation and able to return home, albeit, with limited motor skills and needing 24x7 oversight, that too was “good” news. Exploring and attempting to manage and hopefully stop or slow the growth of the inoperable sections of the tumor that remain through Chemotherapy and finding the opportunity to have her moved to an assisted living facility was “good” news as well.
This has been a mixed blessing. Friends and family, myself included, have had a chance to show her love and support and to indirectly say their goodbyes through their visits and actions. Her spirits were clearly lifted by the numerous visits, the routine assistance with appointments, deliveries of home-cooked meals and multiple pints of various ice cream flavors each week. Laughter, care and compassion rained on her throughout this entire horrible ordeal. All “good” aspects of experiences shared as an otherwise bad scenario played out.
But no news has been “good” news when no news changes the realities of what’s happening. Ultimately, all of this good news was saying that the ship was still sinking, it’s 100% going under, and there’s nothing that can or will change that. It’s just not happening as quickly as it could have.
Experiencing all of this while trying to stay truly present, mindfully comprehending and recognizing the true full weight of it all in each moment as well as over the span of the full year, remains surreal. The kids and I have now lost the option and opportunity to have any further interactions or the more honest and direct closure we were never able to have. We have reached a point of acceptance and anticipation that the longer this draws out for either of us. For, each day brings risks of numerous unpleasant scenarios that come with this disease and will make her final days all the more traumatic. For us, we live in a suspended state. We’ve had 11 months now to go through all five stages of grieving, resolving conflicts, and setting aside historical drama in order to prioritize care and compassion. Now, we’re antici-pacing back and forth in the waiting room, hoping that the next message we receive will be that of her peaceful release from this without further hardship, allowing us to also close this chapter with as much peace as we can.