poison
My mom had her first chemo treatment today.The day before my mother said to me, "They're going to put poison in my body tomorrow." Her small, trembling voice shook me.
I replied, "I know, mom. But there's already poison there, and they have to kill it."
She sighed. "I know."
The day started at 8 AM for her and my dad. I arrived around 9:30 and they still had not started the actual chemo, were still waiting for blood work to be approved by the doctor before they could begin. Then the pre-chemo started--benadryl and other helper medications, anti-nausea ones among them, that were administered through the same drip that would eventually deliver the oxymoronic "healing toxins" to my mother's system. Then the chemo started, an unbelievably tedious process as we all watched the drip make its way from the jar (and later, the bag) down the tiny tube and into my mom's frail little arm. Her day did not end until 4:30 PM. The nurse assured us that the first day of it was always the longest. We can only hope.
I talked to my dad later in the evening, who told me that mom had broken down afterwards, crying and feeling hopeless, saying that she knew the chemo wouldn't work, that it was all a wasted effort. She's trying so hard to be positive in public, but I know that despair has to be haunting her. My dad and I talked about our own despair, our longing to help, our powerlessness, and the difficulty of watching someone you love hurt and having no way to stop it.
It feels as though the world has turned upside down in the last few weeks. I know that others have lived through this--both my mother's illness and my family's grief. In spite of all the shit I've lived through (none of which has been fodder for this particular blog), I never cease to be amazed at the capacity for love, anguish, and endurance that we humans possess. I keep reminding myself of that as I push through each and every painful moment of this newest chapter.
posted by lit lover at
3:32 AM
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