This summer has been a wild ride in many respects.
In particular, my mother has been ill – very ill. In and out of the hospital since May, with one major surgery under her belt, possibly more on the horizon. While they were fixing her heart (two leaky valves) they found one (accidental) instance of lung cancer.
Basically, two major systems at war with each other.
To date, there has been nothing done for the lung cancer, because every time we take one step forward, there are two steps back.
Along with those steps is a lot of note-taking and doctor-speak coming from my sister. Who luckily understands all the jargon, and who has worked her ass off all summer to make sure things stay on the right path, but in truth, is only one person, who has a 5 year old son and issues of her own to deal with.
Yes, we also have two aunts and one uncle (plus me for afar) on the scene, calling and following up too. But really? Are the 5 of us enough? (And how sad is it if we aren’t?)
Apparently we’re not.
Because after much screaming – yes SCREAMING – phone calling, tweeting – yes TWEETING – and everything else you you imagine – my mother was released from the hospital this weekend, with no further cancer tests or treatment.
Even though every time she is released she somehow gains massive fluid back in the wink of an eye, which destabilizes her heart, and then the hospitals spend weeks whittling her water off so she can breathe again.
And then send her home.
Anyone else notice lunacy in this pattern?
I have gone round and round in my head about it, and I know there are a million things at play. Insurance, doctors, egos, money, my mom herself… it’s all a complicated forest where the trees may getting lost.
The part that frightens me to the core is this: that tree is my mother.