My mother was first diagnosed with retroperitoneal liposarcoma in October of 2005. I had come home to see her in the hospital—during the removal of a cyst on her breast the doctors accidentally punctured her lung. It was during her stay at the hospital that they completed an MRI of her core (to verify the lung’s status) and found a large mysterious mass—a tumor. Though frightened by this news she was thankful for the discovery. Weeks went by as my parents spoke with other doctors and centers trying to figure out what this tumor was and what to do. Eventually she was diagnosed—liposarcoma, a rare type of cancerous tumor that manifests itself as a mass of fat. The irony of it—my mother the skinniest petite woman in the world, had a fat tumor. Right before Thanksgiving she went to Sloan Kettering to have surgery to remove the almost 8lb tumor. Being the strong woman that she is, she recovered quickly from the surgery and began her healing journey.
It was years before the tumors came back. It was June 2008 and I had just graduated college and was getting ready for the real world, when the bad news came. Her tumors had returned, fortunately not as large, but still smaller masses had grown back in the same area. We went back to Sloan Kettering for another surgery. Again she recovered miraculously well and fast. With this second scare, she began making changes to her diet—cutting out all meat and sweets, eating more organic foods, juicing and eating grains instead of flour based products.
A little more than half a year later her tumors returned. Determined to find a cure, she wanted to try chemotherapy. She completed a trial chemo treatment at Johns Hopkins with no success. She then later went to Spain to try Yondelis an anti-tumor drug for the treatment of soft tissue sarcomas which was only in it’s trial stages in the states. With no luck from the chemo treatments she went back under the knife in September 2009. I remember sitting at work while she went under—it was predicted to be a long complicated surgery, so when my dad called me within a couple of hours I was terrified. The surgery had gone amazingly well, and she was already out and waking up. I took another trip to the familiar Sloan Kettering inpatient floor. As she recovered we did arts and crafts and walked the hallways doing exercises. Though I was scared of how frail she was, I knew that she would get strong once again. After this surgery she mastered the macrobiotic diet and began doing yoga and meditation as she journeyed for her cure.
In July 2010 we were blessed with the news that she was clear. Almost a whole year had gone by, and I was convinced she was on her road to recovery.
In January of this year, I left to go travel the world for 5 months with my good friend Mandy. Though I was traveling and having the time of my life I kept in touch with my family by skyping with them whenever possible. I remember a conversation with my mom in February, when she told me something was wrong. She didn’t want to say much else, but I could hear it in her voice, she was tired and scared. I questioned my dad, and he told me it was just the fear of her impending CAT scan. Months passed by, as I was oblivious to what was actually going on and haunted by the fear in the back of my head of her cancer. I briefly came back in June for my brother’s college graduation only to be informed that my mother’s tumors had returned and that she had just finished her first round in a trial chemo treatment at NIH. To me it seemed to be business as usual, with the exception that this trial chemo had seemed to have stopped the tumors’ growth. I came back home from months of traveling, ready to take care of my mother as she dealt with the side effects of the chemo. I made her food, sat with her talking, watching tv, walked around with her. I was there for her as much as I could be when I wasn’t getting ready for my big move to get my MBA.
This journey has been a long and hard road to walk, but we have walked it, hand in hand as a family. I realize now, how much I took my mother for granted, even after her first and second surgery. I took surgery for granted, and didn’t truly understand how hard it actually was on her. I began treasuring my time with her, making sure to take time to spend with her. I enjoyed her and my dad’s company when I moved back home in November 2009. While living with them, it was hard to truly appreciate my time with her, because she was always around, and let’s be real she is still my mother, and as her daughter I get annoyed with her. When I came back from my travels, I tried to be with her as much as possible, though my attention for her was shared between my friends (whom I would also be leaving) and my boyfriend (a long distance relationship takes a lot of commitment). Through her chemo it has been hard to see her so weak, but she is still the Carmen we know and love—cheerful, energetic, and hopeful.
Comments
Post a Comment