Magic Goo, Revelations, and the Beginning of Chemo

It's now toward the end of April 2008, and mom has had a successful surgery. Dr. McDreamy removed about 8 inches of her colon and took a couple of biopsies of her liver. He was pleased with how the colon came out (no pun intended), but he stated that the liver looked like swiss cheese. Ugh.

After recovering in the hospital for a few days, mom did all the things the doctors and nurses wanted to see (pee, poop... you get the idea). So, she got to go home. Dad, in the meantime, had done what dad does in these type of circumstances -- research everything cancer related. He came up with some websites that were really helpful. Unfortunately, that means that he found many websites that were really doozies too (Astral projection anyone?). Armed with his newly-acquired knowledge, he built a substantial lifestyle regimen for eating, exercising, relaxing, etc. The UPS man made many stops at their house with packages and bottles with impressive sounding labels like "Glazimosis Ex Patrioitis", "Super Fantastico Cancer Strangulator" and "Dr. Whizenheimer's Double-Secret Elixir" (Obviously not their real names, but you didn't really expect me to remember their actual names, did you?)

So, once mom gets home she's feeling better, except in the mornings just after she's guzzled down another 64 ounces of potion disguised as grey industrial sludge. But we all settle back into our lives once again as best we can.

Shortly after her surgery, the medical-professionals-that-shall-remain-anonymous complete the biopsy analysis on that bit of mom's liver. Mom and dad are called into a new doctors office, supposedly one of the best cancer doctors around. We'll call her Dr. Doomandgloom. The news is not good -- it's very far from good -- you can't see "good" from there. Mom has 6 to 12 months to live. Mom and dad notified me and my 2 siblings of the news. God bless my mom -- she put on her big, infectious smile and assured us that all is not lost and that she is fighting this. I secretly wish I felt a shred of her optimism. On a positive note though, I'm not sure mom ever saw Dr. DoomandGloom again.

However, one day, I was talking to mom and asked the question: "What is the survival rate for your cancer?" The answer, although her voice delivered it with the softness of a feather, hit me hard. "Oh," my mom starts, "you don't survive this cancer. It may go into remission, but it will probably be what kills me." My peripheral vision disappeared. The world seemed smaller and darker now. "But, don't worry about me" she says, "I'll be fine. I'm going to fight this and we'll see."

....

"don't worry about me..." Really? Did she really just say that? DUH, I'm going to worry about her. DUH! If I get life-threatening cancer, I hope that my family worries sick about me. Heck, I hope some you all who I've never met worry about me!

OK. Back on task.

Back with her favorite (and "easy on the eyes", as my mother would put it) doctor, Dr. McDreamy, they put together mom's new chemotherapy. She started in late July 2008. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for things to go awry on her once more...