Tom, Calli, & I received this email from Mom this morning, and I share it here with her permission. The subject line read: Change of Mind.
"Last night I went to bed shortly after Ned got here & slept til 4:30 without even waking up. That was a gift!! Then I began re-thinking my decision to take the Tarceva. I prayed about it & prayed about it & thought about all of the ramifications. They really don't know how it will work for me, they say I will be tired & have diahrreah & can't go around anybody who is sick etc, etc, & they don't know how much time it will buy for me. SO I HAVE DECIDED TO JUST RIDE OUT THIS CANCER & "treat the symptoms" as they say. I believe my quality of life will be just as good if not better doing it this way. And who knows...I might live just as long & have a better quality of life leaving off that poison!!! I have not told your dad yet, but I think he will be just fine with this decision. I will get the pain medicine filled because I think I will need that down the road. It just sounded more & more like it would be doing something that would in the long road not make my life any better. I have lived 80 wonderful years, I want the last years to be as good as possible, with my knowing what is going on as long as possible.
So there is my FINAL DECISION!! Jill you can stop the wheels from turning about the insurance coverage...how ever you need to do that!! And we will just enjoy the time we have to the fullest...all of us!!!
The birds are singing outside & I take that as affirmation!!!
God bless you everyone!!! "
I have hardly stopped crying since I read it about an hour ago--a wild mix of tears of sadness, relief, assurance, fear, respect, and selfishness. We have said all along, the three of us, that this is Mom's cancer and that it's Mom's decision--one we would respect wholeheartedly no matter what she decided. And we do. But that doesn't make it any easier.
With treatment of some kind, we were given the hope of a year or two, maybe even three. Without treatment, all signs point to months rather than years.
As I was sitting at the counter just now, working the Tuesday crossword through my intermittent tears, Daniel, unaware that I was upset, said "Happy Early Birthday, Mom!" I thanked him and said that I thought it would be a sad one this year. He came over and gave me a hug and said, "I know." I explained to him that Attee had decided to forego treatment, and that she would likely not be here for my next birthday. "I know, Mom. We just have to enjoy the time that we do have with her now."
He's twelve. He's wise. He's right.
So let's all do that, shall we? And who knows? The prayers of many and the strength of one spunky 80 year old lady just might be stronger than any cancer drug out there. I pray so.
9 comments:
Jill, I have tears in my eyes reading your mom's email. I love how she is respecting herself and embracing the life that she has left. I am sad for you and your family that she won't always be here for you. Enjoy what might be your final bday with the woman that gave you the opportunity to be here and bless all of us.
Thanks for sharing.
As sad as I'm sure you must be about the reality that is setting in, I read your post and was thankful that your mother is able to make her own decision about it all.
None of you will be left wondering, 'what would mom have wanted us to do about this?'
And, ultimately, you are right about counting the days. None of us know the number of our days, with or without cancer diagnoses.
Prayers to all of you.
Jill, I am so grateful for this. For the words in your mother's email that give you comfort, for the release this brave choice may give your mother and others eventually. Thank you so much for sharing. Never before has the wish to "live in the moment" meant so much. I will practice it along with you today and in the many wonderful and difficult days to come.
My prayers and blessings, thoughts and hopes are with you all. As we like to say in the preaching world, there is no accounting for the Holy Spirit. And that spirit is mighty and powerful, and life-giving and reviving. I pray that your mother's spirit will be wed with this Holy one as she claims Life above all else.
Peace to you all...
Jill, I give thanks for your mom's faith and courage. My husband and I are also dealing with the difficulties of aging parents, and the more I learn, the more I admire and respect those people who are willing to celebrate the life they have lived, without being afraid of death.
I'm realizing more and more that it's the dying part, not death, that is the worst, and medical science has allowed us the "gift" of choosing to draw out the dying part. A terrible gift, sometimes.
I've been thinking so much about these choices lately, and I'm especially thankful that your mom is immersing herself in prayer, and being surrounded by love and prayer.
Well done, good and faithful servants.
Jill,
Your mother's letter reminded me of a quote by Gilda Radner:
"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.
Delicious Ambiguity."
Thank Attee for inviting you to share her story with the people who love you so, not only her decision to take charge of her medical care, but also her decision to invite us to pray with and for her, her ability to hear God's voice in the singing of the birds, and her blessing on us all.
Peace of Christ always,
George Tatro
Jill, I can see that spunky mother of yours right now. Your parents taught me so much all those many years ago and they are still teaching me today. I too share in the tears but know that God will be with you every step of the way. My prayers are with all of you
one of the best gifts my dad gave us was his decision to stop treatment for his ongoing cancer that kept spreading. prayers jill.
I know it's hard to think of yourself as lucky in this circumstance but I would have given anything for an e-mail like this from my Dad. I won't labor over the details but suffice it to say that the openness and candor of your mother is a gift...a true gift despite the situation.
You are in my thoughts.
Tamara
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