FOUR LETTER WORDS

Perspective and reality. The power of 4-letter words like FOUR & CURE. One feels like a death sentence, the other a lease on life. Polar opposites expressed in the same sentence. Wrapping your head around the implications of Stage IV while simultaneously trying to focus on the doctor repeating CURE is definitely a mind-fuck.

I was hungry and overwhelmed by the time we left. The wait was almost 2 hours and mom as anxious because they cancelled her blood work requisition earlier that day. She was nervous that they were going to cancer her chemo this week because of something they found in the most recent tests. I tried to distract her with chit chat but it was obvious she was preoccupied with fear and apprehension.

When it was our turn we were greeting by lovely nurse Ellen again. The caregivers we’ve dealt with at PMH seem very well suited for their jobs ~ compassionate, gentle, engaging. After mom’s height and weight were recorded we went in to wait for the doctors. Dr. R was lovely and answered our questions as best she could. Mom’s blood work is fine! Chemo is going ahead as planned on Wed. Then Dr. K came in and went over things with us. It wasn’t a long appointment (once we left the waiting area) but here’s what we walked away with:

Mom has stage IV lymphoma. With other cancers staging may refer to the progression of the disease but with lymphoma it means that there is more that one site of cancer in her body and those areas are spread apart. Perhaps she’d be a lower stage if the cancer spots were closer together but one (the main) is in her pelvis, the others are in her femur, ribs and chest. That’s intimidating and daunting! Scary shit. After hearing that it is hard to refocus and absorb: This is still curable! The chemo will zap the disease no matter where it is in her body. I feel like mom is Linda Hamilton fighting the machines in Terminator - mom versus b-cell. Added firepower: The Prednisone that she’s been on, and will continue to take throughout treatment, also kills lymphoma so we’ve got a strong arsenal on our side. The fact that the enemy is spread out is no match for the nukes we’re about to drop on her system.

While that’s reassuring - she’s going to live! - it’s also horrifying to think about the effects the chemicals will have on her while they attack the cancer. Knowing someone you love is going to suffer, even if the end game is survival, is difficult to accept. I want to help. I want to save her and make it all go away. I want to hug my brothers and ease their fears. I want to shout with assurance that it will all be fine. But I can’t. I need to be honest with my brothers. I need to be there as best I can. But I can’t fix this. I’m scared, very scared.

In Scrabble CURE is worth 6 points and FOUR is worth 7 points. Not game changing words. I doubt I’d play them unless they were connected to other words on the board that would significantly boost my score. Words like SURVIVOR, CHEMO, or HEALTHY. Luckily the doctors are associating our prognosis with a very positive outcome. Gotta focus on that, right?

When this started I didn’t think this is where we’d end up. I believed the tumour was benign and this situation would quickly be in the rearview mirror. Now we’re dealing with multiple areas of active disease in mom’s body. New lens: Hopefully this will be behind us by the time she turns 65 in the fall.

On a separate note, Passover with the family was nice last night. The food was delicious and it was great to see everyone. I drank too much wine, which is too damn easy! One glass and I’m tipsy, which means one glass and I say more than I’m often comfortable with. My son had a good time and it felt like boyfriend has been in our lives forever. It’s so easy and comfortable with him. It was also helpful being able to relate the Coles Notes from the apt to my brothers in person instead of by text.

I crawled into bed with my son, who is super cuddly and loving lately ❤️ He makes everything feel better and easier.