Cancer and My Mother

My mother had breast cancer at the age of 70. I was 50 years old. She had her left breast and lymph nodes removed by a surgeon in Oklahoma City, who was known as "the best." He undoubtedly was, most of the time, but he wasn't for my mother. She had chosen not to have reconstructive surgery. She was a large breasted woman and chose to forego further surgery. Remember that, at the time, breast surgery was not as advanced as it is today.

I remember the moment when they wheeled her out of the room and my father and I left for the waiting room. I remember giving my mother a kiss and telling her I loved her. I was fearful that she might die and I knew that my father was terribly anxious. I do not remember her returning to her room afterwards. But she did return and the surgery was a mess. She had been mutilated and was in pain even after it had healed. He had left lumps and a jagged scar and had caused damage in the lymph nodes.
He apologized when confronted and said he would operate again at no further cost. My mother saw several doctors and was evaluated but she chose not to have further surgery. The consensus was that it could be improved aesthetically but the damage to the lymph nodes was probably permanent. She chose not to pursue any legal action even though she had been advised that she a had strong case. She suffered discomfort and pain the rest of her life.

My mother was a beautiful woman who was very talented and accomplished in many ways. She was a wonderful seamstress and made many of my clothes throughout my life, an "Arts & Crafts" aficionado, a formidable housekeeper, a very hospitable hostess, an Army wife extraordinaire! When her wounds healed, she took painting classes and discovered an amazing talent for painting.

At age 50 I could not empathize very well. As I have grown older I have come to understand what I did not understand then. I am sure that my mother was saddened by my failure to truly comfort her. I have learned one of life's great lessons, now that I am 78, that we are unable to fully understand an experience if we have not had the same experience our self! I am deeply sorry now, especially since I was an only child. I was not able to give her the loving support and empathetic understanding that she no doubt wanted and deserved.

Mother did not have another bout with cancer but she battled angry feelings until she died. And I have never resolved the feelings of guilt I had.


Rest eternal grant to her, O Lord;

And let light perpetual shine upon her.

May her soul, and the souls of all the departed,

through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen

Book of Common Prayer

Emotional States

What makes me sad?

The feeling that I have no meaningful purpose.  When people ask, "How are you?" I respond with a lie.  I say, "Fine!  I'm feeling fine!" because I know that everyone wants me to be "Fine!"  Only to my closest friends will I admit that I am not so fine.  That I am feeling depressed and sad.  The fact that I survived leukemia is a miracle and, if you are considered a miracle, you should be feeling "fine!"  

There are after effects from having chemotherapy that are long lasting, some of which, you do not recover from.  You suffer the effects for the rest of your life.  I am most troubled by my loss of memory--some of which may come back with time.  And some, I suspect, will not come back and I will have to cope with forgetting names and dates.  I am learning to cope with a giant 15 X 21 inch wall calender to record all appointments, birthdays I want to remember, and all events to which I have committed myself.  I have a black notebook in which I am writing all passwords to allow me access to my computer.  And I am trying to recall names with every trick in the book!  Four years ago I was struggling with the same problems as a result of a mild  stroke.  I have always loved to read and have been considered as a reasonably intelligent person who pursued knowledge by studying.  To lose the ability to do so would be a great loss and I fear losing it.

Everything I do, I do slowly.  Not on purpose.  It just seems to take a long time to do anything.  And I tire easily.  Usually requiring an afternoon nap.  Cooking for myself is no longer pleasant.  It is just a necessity.  

Transportation is a problem because I can only drive short distances and never at night.  All my children are scattered, living in four states, which adds to the complexity.  

I feel that God has granted me with a few extra years of life and that I am expected to do something.  I don't know what that something is.  

On top of it all, when I mention how I really feel (useless) I am ashamed because, anyway that I state the above, it sounds like whining and I feel ashamed of myself.  

After all, I am the recipient of a miracle and those who receive a miracle should be ecstatically happy!  

Heavenly Father, watch over your daughter, and grant that she may be restored to that perfect health which it is yours alone to give; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen
                                                                                                       Book of Common Prayer