Nothing Short of a Miracle

Monday June 3, 2013

Well, she made it.

She made it through the diagnosis of her brain tumor.

She made it through a heart attack.

She made it through brain surgery to remove a poisonous tumor.

We learned on Friday that the tumor was removed.  We were told that it was completely removed.  The physician that told us this little tidbit was not the actual surgeon that performed the surgery.  It was one of his colleagues.

Shortly after we received this news, the surgeon came in and elaborated.

Maybe we were all just high on the news that the tumor was gone.  Maybe we were just so incredibly hopeful that this was over.

I know we weren't naive.  I know we knew better.

But the news he delivered was crushing... and I think we all knew it was coming sooner or later.

Some preliminary tests had come back.  Yes, the tumor was removed ("grossly", meaning most of it) - but the cancer was not.  Her brain is still littered with cancer cells.

He said it.  That word. 

Cancer.  It was true.

Grade 4 Glioblastoma.

You can find out more about what a Glioblastoma is on the American Brain Tumor Association's website.  I set that link to take you right to the glioblasotma page.

It's gnarly.  Nasty.  And it looks really bad in black & white.

But we have to remember that every person is different.  Every person fights differently.  There are statistics, and there are miracles.  In my opinion, Mom's story is already nothing short of a miracle.

Immediately following her surgery, it was so hard to look at her.  She ate like a little bird.  She could barely speak.  She could barely open her eyes. 

We were all waiting in such anticipation to see how she was.  Did she know who we were?  Did she remember what she was doing here? 

By the late afternoon / evening the day of surgery, she was so exhausted and on regular doses of pain meds that all she did was sleep.
And we were still waiting to see.

The next day, she progressed more.  Physical Therapists came to assist her with simple things.  They asked her questions about how she felt, what was missing, what was difficult.

By the second day after surgery, she was carrying on full conversations.  Reminiscing back 25-30 years.

But when the Therapist asked her what the date was, she couldn't answer.  When asked what month it was, she couldn't answer.  When asked what year it was, she immediately said 2013.  Yay! 

She could name every person that was in the room with no problem.  She could feed herself with ease.  However, reaching for things and picking them up was quite a task.

Mom described it as though you were standing in front of a mirror.  There's a tube of chapstick on the counter and you reach for it, but you have to use the mirror to guide you.  Naturally, you may tend to go to one side or another of the item.  Or, you may think it's farther away than it really is.  But you can ONLY use the mirror to find it.  You cannot take your eyes away and see the item in its real position.

And she had no peripheral vision on her right side.  You had to pretty much be directly in front of her for her to see you.

So, her vision is a little off.

She could not stand on both feet with her eyes closed.  She would fall over.

She could not walk - anywhere - without assitance and holding onto the wall for guidance.

She could touch her nose, and then reach out and touch a hand in front of her with her eyes closed.

She could not do "flap jacks" with her hand.  Take one hand and hold it out palm up.  Take the other hand and flip flop it on top of the other - back & forth.  She could not do that.

She could not complete certain sentences using proper English.  She forgot which words went together to complete a sentence.

She had a hard time reading (her dinner menu, for example) and having a picture in her mind of what she was reading.  Immediate memory was not clear.

At least on this day.

Today, day 3 post-op, those symptoms are already subsiding.  She is talking on the phone, walking through the house mostly without assistance.  She is reading better.  Her sentences are more accurate and "normal".  She has her incredible sense of humor back.  She remembers things, stories, people. 

My dad described it as something "amazing" to watch as she continues to get better hour after hour.

This is nothing short of a miracle.

We are celebrating small victories.  And we will be doing this for a long time.  I told my dad on Friday (surgery day) that that was the easy day.  And that was a hard day.  The rehabilitation, chemotherapy, radiation, side effects - and all of things that will occur that we can't even comprehend right now - they're coming.

There was a time recently that I was feeling incredibly overwhelmed - like I would never reach the shore.  My dad asked me, "How do you eat an elephant"?

"One bite at a time".

Well we're going to liken this battle with cancer to eating an elephant (but just a little - obviously cancer is very real, and eating an elephant is just not). 

Both seem humongous.

But taken one step at a time, one bite at a time, when you look back, you realize how far you've come.  It isn't insurmountable. 

I've recently also learned that the medical bills are piling up.  They have insurance, and their yearly out of pocket deductible has already been met.  Their portion of each bill after insurance is in the thousands of dollars.  And it's only the beginning.

I set up a fundraiser for them to help ease the pain of medical bills on top of everything else.  My dad still works a full time job.  They have a full time friend and caretaker who comes to the house every day to help Dianne get around, cook, you name it.  Dad is keeping all the appointments, paperwork, transcripts, physicians (neurology, oncology, cardiac, etc) - everything - straight.

If there was anything I could do to lighten that load I would.  This is Dad's new life now.  As a family, and as a community, this is when we're called to help one another.  Here's a link to the fundraiser page:  Dianne's Battle - A Fighter's Journey With Brain Cancer.  You can go to that page to get updates, donate, comment or leave a message for Dad & Di.  You can give anonymously or not, you can keep your donation amount private.  Donations are received through PayPal, but you can give using PayPal, or any credit / debit card without using PayPal.  Any gift you can give is immensely appreciated - and no gift is too small.  Even if you can't give, please visit the site and share her story.  Share her updates.  Get the word out about Brain Cancer.  You might touch someone who is going through this very thing!  Maybe someone out there will be able to relate or share their story to help Mom through this.

Words cannot express the gratitude we feel from the outpouring of prayers and concern for mom.  I know sometimes Dad is brought to tears from the amazing support they have received.

Anyway, thanks for reading.  There are so many milestones ahead - and I want to share them with you.  So keep coming back.