Tuesday, April 22, 2014

A Little More Bad News

... And if that's not a title to repel a reader, I don't know what is!

The MRI showed my mom has a little bit of cancer in the brain. But it's in a part of the brain I've never heard of, so I'm not sure what to make of that. Must be a pretty small part. My mom said her nurse practitioner was "relieved by how small it was" -- after seeing my mom last week so sleepy, and hearing that she'd been pulled over for "erratic driving," she expected much worse.

So I guess that's good.

She seems okay. It's weird. She's never been an emotive person. And even now, with all this, she has yet to show any real emotion to me. I don't tend to show emotion to her, either, probably because she's always seemed so detached.

So I have no idea how she's really doing. A lot of me is grateful for this, honestly. Facing someone else's darkest fears with them is pretty terrifying, especially when that person is your mother, once the source of all comfort.

I'm encouraging her to pursue options for mental health support, and she already has some connections. Truthfully, even if we were the closest of close, I think it's better for her to lean on someone who is not her child. Surely she feels some impulse to protect me, and that will keep her from getting enough support from me.

The thing that sucks about all this, well, a big thing that sucks, is that I remember this sequence from when my father died of a brain cancer five years ago. There's no status quo. You just keep on getting little pieces of bad news, one after another. Even when you know someone is terminal, there's still denial and hope and prayer that it will be a long and easy journey. And each time you get a piece of bad news, you have to face that judgment and disappointment all over again. And it stuns and hurts and smarts each time, all over again.


  1. I am so sorry to hear this news about your mother. Thinking of you. So very much to digest.and as you say, it is going to be a long process of coming to terms with the new realities as you go.

    I hope this space can be a safe place for you to share what you want to.

  2. I am so sorry. It sounds as though you are quite rightly pacing yourself and trying to prepare for the journey to come.

  3. I'm so sorry that this is happening. Have you thought about finding some emotional support for yourself also? Even though you went through much of this when your dad was sick, you had your mom to support you back then.

  4. I'm sorry you are going through this, and also glad you and Calliope are there with her. Sending much care and support.

  5. Oh Abby, I am so sorry. As you say though, it is likely that the story now will just be one piece if bad news after the other. I am sorry that is the case. On the positive side you have been given this time together, that her than her be taken by a sudden event. You can enjoy many moments together too. Love and strength to you.

  6. Your last paragraph is so exactly spot on. I am so sorry you're have to go through this again.

  7. That is so hard. I'm sorry for you and your sweet girl. Knowing of a loved ones terminal illness is a small blessing in that it allows one time to process some things, but it is still so hard.

  8. So sorry to hear this news! if there is anyway Elsie and I can help you and Calliope, let me know!

  9. I'm sorry to hear this news. I am thinking of you and your family. Hoping you have many good memories to make and cherish with your mom.

  10. Oh, Abby, I'm so sorry to hear yet more bad news about your mom. :( I am glad, though, that you and Calliope will have some time with her this summer. What special memories you'll create!

    Hang in there, and please be in touch about how Jordyn and I can be of help, or support, or whatever.

    1. We would love to see you up in MA. But I don't remember your email address... do you remember mine?

  11. I don't know what to say except that it sucks and my thoughts and prayers are with you.