“The next few months are for you to focus on living and loving” were Ann’s parting words as we wrapped up our session.   The psychologist we saw at the Oncology Center was truly a gift, just as I had expected she would be. 

Living and Loving. 

She summed it up so simply and succinctly.

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In my desire to do things right and make the best of a horrible situation, I managed to brew up a shit storm like I haven’t conjured up since I was a teen.  Mom doesn’t like surprises, and she felt like I was up to something when she found out that I had requested a session with the Oncology Center’s psychologist.   When the intake person called to set up the appointment,  Mom lost it and was livid with me for requesting it without her consent.  Eventually, she came down from the ceiling and, after much assuring that Beth and I weren’t setting her up for an ambush, agreed to go to see the counselor with us.

My goals were pretty straight forward but I didn’t do a very good job of making them clear to Mom:

1. I wanted to know what was going to happen with the disease process and get an idea about how much time she has left
2. I wanted to feel comfortable talking with my mom and my family about her eminent death
3. I wanted to make sure that we had covered any unresolved issues
4. I wanted to make sure Mom felt supported in her decision to discontinue treatment

Ann wasn’t quite sure what to expect from us, but I think she figured it out pretty quickly.  She was great at anticipating our questions and was very honest and direct with us about what to expect from this disease.  Mom discontinued Nexavar last week and will no longer be treated for the disease.

It sounds like Hospice will be requested to become involved in Mom’s care in the next couple of weeks.

After our appointment, I spent 4 hours driving home and mulling over what it means to spend the next few months living and loving.  

For me, it means that I need to be sure that I get to spend as much time with my mom as I can while she’s still with us.  There will have to be some sacrifices made to our sports and social calendars to carve out the time.  It means that I need to have clear priorities and honor them.  Now I must face the unthinkable, and somehow manage to find the strength to grow up and become my own person, who doesn’t have the wisdom of her mother to guide her any more. 

Finally, in my solitude, I realized that I have been given an incredible gift of being granted editorial rights in creating the last chapter of my mother’s life. 

In my hands lies an opportunity to shape what will be the last memories I will have of my mother.  And she of me. 

While that chapter doesn’t have to be a literary masterpiece, I hope it will be something I will be proud to share with my children.

 

 - Karmen