Thursday, March 31, 2005


I feel as though in the past few months I've been living in two separate worlds. One is the world where life is going on and we have to work and sleep and eat. The other is always there but is veiled in a fog. It's the world where mom is fighting for her life. I know it is there - off in the distance. I've learned to live day to day without looking too closely at that second world. Even when I'm sitting with mom while she has chemo or holding her while she's in pain. I don't know if this is denial or acceptance.

Yesterday I got off the elevator at the hospital and walked down a deserted hallway. In front of me was a door with a sign on it that said Inpatient Cancer Center. At that moment, the stark reality hit me so hard, it took my breath away. The fog didn't romantically lift. It was stripped away suddenly and painfully.

After sitting with mom for awhile, it was time for me to leave. She still won't sleep if we're there with her.

I sobbed as I rode the elevator down, then I walked out into the night and into the fog.............


Blogger Laurie said...

Your fog is just your body and mind trying to protect you (a little) so you can keep functioning. The reality of it all is just too much. You are getting stronger every day although you probably don't feel your own strength.

7:52 AM, April 02, 2005  
Anonymous Jennysue said...

I think it's ok to be in fog once in a while. I agree with Laurie, your body is just protecting you from a difficult reality. I will be thinking of your mother, and of you. Cancer just sucks

12:01 AM, April 03, 2005  
Blogger Jeannette said...

I think it is okay to be in the fog at times. It is your mind's way of protecting you. It has been less than a year since I was diagnosed with breast cacner and while my prognosis is excellent, I haven't gotten past that survival day-to-day mode as I try to pick up the pieces. One day as you gather your strength, you will see things clearly, as will I. Until then, it is okay to have the hazy days. Be kind to yourself. Your expression of your relationship with your mother is wonderful.

3:47 PM, April 08, 2005  

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(written September of 2005) I have learned much in the last nine months. I have read that ovarian cancer whispers. I say it screams. It just needs someone to listen. The American Cancer Society statistics for ovarian cancer estimate that there will be 22,220 new cases and 16,210 deaths in 2005. This is a death rate FOUR TIMES that of breast cancer.Almost 70 percent of women with the common epithelial ovarian cancer are not diagnosed until the disease is advanced in stage. The 5-year survival rate for these women is only 15 to 20 percent. This is unacceptable. Women need to be made more aware of the symptoms, and doctors need to listen to their patients. Especially when the patient tells them that they fear they have ovca, as my mother did for almost a year before she was finally diagnosed. It’s so sad and senseless when a woman knows the symptoms but can’t get anyone to listen to what she is saying.