Hurry Up and Wait

Have you ever heard of the term, "Hurry Up and Wait?"

After my sister called and told me that my Mom had DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ; polite parlance for early stage of cancer) I hurried to try and hop a flight to get up here as quickly as possible. I wanted to be here for her for anything she might need.

The time in between was spent making arrangments for bills to get paid, the suspension of certain things, and figuring out how to work while up here. I was lucky and I'm very grateful that I work for a company that allowed me the flexibility to travel up here, work out of the New York office, thus allowing me to be here for my Mom.

From the first phone call to my arrival, it was all rush, rush, rush.

And then I waited.

Hurry up and wait; it's all that ran through my mind. And that's kind of how I felt after about two weeks of being up here. Mom seemed fine. She was talking all upbeat and chipper. She sounded like she really had a good grip on herself and what was happening. Even after that first follow-up appointment 4 weeks ago (God have a I really been here that long?) she was totally, well . . . coolio!

Naturally she wasn't happy with the fact that they had to go in a second time to remove more tissue. She wasn't happy with the 30% probability of cancer returning, and more aggressively. She wasn't too happy with the fact that if the cancer did return, that she would have to undergo a full mastectomy.

But she was still coping. She still looked fine.

Then, after we started talking about all the aspects, trying to figure out the different variables; after she started taking the Tamoxifen, things kinda started to slip and get wonky. Usually it was late at night when fear has a habit of tapping us on the shoulder, whispering in our ear and settling in for the night.

There was one night in particular where I really thought she had totally lost her grip. It was the strangest thing to see my mom's confusion, frustration and fear bursting forth after all this time and spewing madly. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. She had been pretty strong thus far; I think she wanted to spare us some grief.

Her strength has been admirable but somewhat shocking. I would have been hysterical if it was me! But her tears were worse. I've seen her cry before but not like this. A part of me wanted to ask her who she was and what had she done with my mother. This was NOT my mother! Needless to say, she kinda wigged me out as well. I managed to calm her down and get her to bed. Later that night, in my room, I barely slept at all wondering what was going to happen next? I just couldn't turn the brain off; even after taking two Valium!

The following day, though, since our server at work was totally down, I left a bit early. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I got home and caught my mom off-guard. She was pleasantly surprised. In fact she was caught so off-guard that we just got into a natural conversation about everything that she been going through. We sat down and talked about her fears and worries. She told me about how she was home alone when, after a shower, she did the breast examination to find that first clear liquid, then dark blood, oozed out of her nipple. She was also alone when the doctor told her the diagnosis after the initial visit. She told me about the initial cold paralysis that took her and the overwhelming sensation that she was going to die, as well as many other things.

To make a very long story short, she cried, I cried, we held hands and she said she had made her decision. And as she told me her decision the church bells across the street started to chime and it was a very strange affirmation that some other hand, something greater and bigger than us, was at work here. It sent chills up and down my spine.

Fast-forward to yesterday. She is now fully healed from the previous surgery and the doctor has given my mom the Green Light to either go through with radiation and, eventually, further tissue removal or full mastectomy. We told him what she wanted and he just nodded and said okay. The date has not yet been set but he sent her to get another mammogram yesterday. I think he wants to check the margins, see if any further calcification has occured and, I think, make sure that she is sure this is what she wants. Of course, I'm sure he wants to cover his ass as well.

We see him again next Tuesday afternoon to review the results of the mammogram and set the date for the mastectomy. Unfortunately, I leave the next day and I'm not comfortable leaving. I almost feel like I need to see this through with her to the end.

There have been times when I wondered why I was here. There was nothing happening, no radiation since the healing took longer than the doctor anticipated. I SAW NO RESULTS!!!! In fact there are so many variables it seems as if any outcome is probable; do I stay? do I go? do I let the sisters take care of her now? Do I come back? It's all still kind of up in the air but one thing is certain; I needed to be here in order to help guide my mom and support her wishes. I do not regret for one moment having come up here. And I'm glad she wasn't alone the times she broke down in front of me.

What happens next? I don't know. It's a hurry-up-and-wait kind of thing. And since I can't rush life, I guess I'll just wait.