When my mother casually mumbled those words over the phone on what seemed at first to be just another regular Thursday, I didn't process at the time that the world as I knew it was now forever changed by that sentence.
There were signs that something was wrong months before the diagnosis. When I was home in State College in May, she made the same wrong turn over and over again when driving me back to the house my dad has lived in for over 15 years. During phone conversations, she'd ask me the same questions multiple times. At that point, we laughed it off and equated it to my mom just getting older and not being as good at pretending she was listening. When we mentioned the issues to my dad (they've been divorced since I was 12, but have remained good friends), he jokingly said "I'm the wrong person to ask. Your mother has never listened to me anyway, so I wouldn't notice any difference."
As weeks went by, more people started to notice her odd behavior. Friends and family started calling me in Florida asking me if everything was okay with my mom, because she just didn't seem like herself. When she went to Pittsburgh for my cousin's graduation, she got lost going from one aunt's house to the other aunt's house. They have lived there for years, and while my mom has never been GREAT with directions, she's definitely always been able to find her way around. As more time went by, she started calling my dad asking him to help her find her way home, but she had no idea where she even was. She told me later, when relaying the story back to me, how great my dad is for being able to not only tell her how to get home, but to also figure out where it is she was and lead her in the right direction from there.
Thanks to the support and understanding of the company for which I work, I was able to fly home to be with my mom the morning after receiving the news. I will never forget the kindness and generosity of the people who were there for me the day my world came crashing down. Actually, after typing the sentence, I realize the irony about that statement as it relates to this entire situation....so I'd like to change that to "I hope I'll never forget it." Seriously though, I'll try really hard to not forget. Because that support means more to me than those people may even know.
Once I got home to Pennsylvania and saw my mom's smiling face rocking that beautiful floor length hospital gown, I realized just how incredible she is. I've always been close with my mom (in high school, my friends and I nicknamed her "Jazazzle", and the name has stuck), and I like to think she's always known how much I appreciate and love her. From the beginning of this battle until now, she has worn a smile and spoken optimistically. As we waited for what seemed like an eternity for her biopsy results, we got to truly enjoy every second of time we were all able to spend together as a family.
The night before we found out the dreaded question of whether the tumor was benign or malignant, my brother, mom and I all slept on a pull-out bed together. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I don't think any of us slept at all that night. I dreaded what the news would be, and deep down, was terrified that I already knew the answer. I drive one of my great friends, who always puts up with my crap, absolutely bananas by worrying about every little thing that may or may not happen. This time, my gut feeling was unfortunately accurate.
On Friday, August 10th, we found out that our mom has Grade IV, stage 1 Glioblastoma....which is the most aggressive form of malignant brain tumors. I made the mistake of searching the internet during the painful waiting game between the biopsy and the results. I knew if that G-word came out of the doctors mouth, I would lose it. And so I did. And so did the rest of us. Except my mom. The woman who cries at fireworks did not shed a single tear as the rest of us completely fell apart in that room. Not once has she said anything about how much the situation sucks for her, she just apologizes over and over again that my brother and I have to go through this. When walking out of the room that day with our arms around each other, she told my brother and I that we would just have to take it one day at a time, enjoy every second we have together, and that most importantly, she was going to make sure we knew how much she loves us, mostly by telling us over and over again.
When we got back to my aunt's house, my mom's positive energy and attitude had worn off on us. We were able to enjoy each other, laugh, and just appreciate that we have this time together. Truthfully, I'm well aware of how lucky I am. I know people who have lost a parent in the blink of an eye. This experience is giving me the opportunity to fully appreciate not only my mom and dad, but all these other wonderful people I am so blessed to have in my life. When more family received the news and came to my aunt's house, we all fell apart again. It was the balance we had to strike to make sure we were expressing our emotions, but also following in our mom's suit to enjoy each other, laugh, and recognize all of life's blessings. I have heard my mom say "We are so BLESSED" more times since she was diagnosed with a brain tumor than I ever have in my life, and she's always been aware of how lucky we are.
I hope that every single person who has reached out to support me or my family in one way or another knows how much that means to us. When my mom's best friend found out about the prognosis, she told my brother "sometimes, you love someone so much that there just aren't any words to express the feeling." Honestly, I feel similarly about this situation. I am so thankful for the outpouring of love that people have shown us, I just cannot put it into words. Each and every one of you is a reason I know, without a doubt, that I'm going to get through this and be okay.
People have made comments about how positive my family is trying to be in this situation. Honestly, my mom set that tone for all of us. I think we all recognize now that life is short and you never know what's going to happen. My mom (as well as the rest of us, for that matter) could have months left, or years left....but either way, feeling sorry and cursing the situation is time wasted that could be spent with the people we love. One of the people who made that comment may not realize this, but she's one of the other reasons I know I'm going to be okay. Some of my closest friends have lost family members to this terrible disease and are some of the strongest people I have ever met. Because they were able to make it through (some of them much younger than myself), I know I will, too.
My mom began her 6 weeks of radiation and chemotherapy yesterday. I'd be lying if I said her memory and cognitive abilities have not worsened, even since the follow-up appointment. It breaks my heart to have to remind my mom where I work, how old I am, what state I live in, etc., but there is one thing that she has never forgotten...and that is how much she loves me. And really, that's the only thing that matters.
