You're Never Too Old to Come Home....

First off, I'm alive and well. I know it has been a long time since I posted last. As one of my oncology nurses said, "Jodie it's been since February 21...it's now MARCH!" My cousin, Pauly, summed it up perfectly when he said, oh so eloquently, that he was telling people I wasn't writing because "Dude, you're doing good, right?" And yes, he was correct. I've been busy soaking up the limited sunshine was have had, taking Sam out to "see the light" and smell the spring air. I found that I had an extra spring in my step, my color wasn't so sallow, my ability to get out of bed was just a little easier. Then of course, a blizzard hit! And with the blizzard came pain and bloodwork and x-rays on my end. I guess my medical journey is like a page out of the weather forecast for Syracuse, NY. All sunshine and roses one day, then gusty winds and white outs the next. That's what a cancer diagnosis is, I suppose.
These past few weeks have been mostly great. I felt more like myself than I had in a while. My energy seemed to come back and I spent a lot of my day laughing and playing with Sammy. He's getting up on all fours now, so it is a matter of days, not weeks, before he starts crawling. Oh boy. Life has been good. We visited with people and took walks, in my weak attempt to "get back in shape." I joke and say that Sammy takes me on lunch dates and shopping trips....he's quite the shopper!
Of course, in having these big adventure days, I didn't often take into account how the chemo was going to affect me. After a long day of feeling like myself, I would be knocked on my butt and in bed all day completely fatigued. Then I would beat myself up for not being a mommy on those days and for being tired. I would have to remind myself that this was my body's reaction to chemo and not me being a lazy lump. But it is hard to let yourself off the hook at times. Especially when you go a day feeling almost as if you are cancer-free! Getting knocked down again, just serves as a torturous reminder that your body is in the fight of its life.
Last night was a bad night. I had been battling what felt like a stiff neck or pulled muscle all day. I attributed it to lugging 23 lb Sammy around town. (Seriously, you put him in one of those carriers and you get yourself a nice arms workout!) As the night progressed, the stiffness and muscle spasms became worse. Now, because my cancer is in my liver, I can't just toss back some drugs and sleep it off. I have to be careful what I take because of that and also because I have had some bleeding, so Aleve and blood thinners are a no-no too. I've become the anti-med patient at this point, scared of what may happen if I try to take something. I feel like I have made so much progress with my liver (the nurse practitioner agreed with me the other day when she examined me....it is NORMAL SIZE now, which is HUGE!). I don't want to take two steps back and start tearing away at the progress I have made. And I don't want to end up back in the hospital with bleeding again because as good as I look in a hospital gown, it ain't worth it.
Well, stupid me didn't take anything and tried to go to bed. I took my sleeping pill and sort of sighed myself to sleep because it wasn't exactly a pain-free arrangement. I figured my pill would knock me out and I would be ok. It did, for about 2 hours. Then I woke up and couldn't lift my head off the pillow. I was scared because the pain was so intense, it took my breath away. I've thrown out my back before and experienced similar pain then, but when you have cancer, everything seems ten times worse.
I woke my mom up as I stood over her stuck in a cockeyed position. I couldn't move my head, it hurt so much I was crying, and I needed my mom. She helped me down the stairs, set up a bed on the couch and went to work. Cupboards were opening, she was shuffling around, the microwave was buzzing, and pill bottles were rattling....all at 1 a.m., and she has to go to work at 5. All the while I was laying on my pillows with tears streaming down my face. My head had already gone to that dark place. What if the cancer had metastasized to my bones? Was this how it would feel? If so, it was agony. Or what if it was meningitis? My immune system is compromised after all, and it hurt to touch my chin to my chest and I had had a headache the night before (oh the joys of being a nurse's kid who knows too much!). As my mom put moist heat under my head along with a heating pad she had in her car (god knows why), I shakily lifted my head and sucked in a deep breath because of the pain. When I laid down and let the air out, I sobbed to her "Promise me it hasn't metastasized to my bones! Promise me!" How awful of me to put my mom in that position! But she is my mom, and always has taken care of me. I needed her to tell me it was going to be ok, that I was not going down a darker road. She couldn't promise me anything. All she could say was that it appeared to be muscular and that was a good sign. I told her to go upstairs and sleep with my baby. She insisted she stay downstairs and sleep with her "baby." Mom didn't leave my side. She continued to make sure I had heat on my neck and dried my tears. I know, if I had asked, she would have scooped me up and rocked me to sleep, even though we are the same size nowadays. Because she is a mom, first and foremost.
The beauty of my parents is that they put their kids first....always have. My mother called in sick because she wanted to be by my side when I went to the doctor and to hold my hand if they did find something. She wanted to keep me comfortable and checked on me all morning long as I lay in bed suffering in pain. She wanted to quiet my fears, as best she could.
My dad, for as tough and gruff as he looks, can't stand to see me in pain. He and my mother are a team in these situations. Dad took on Sammy, and I could rest assured listening to the two of them spitting at eachother and Sam laughing. He was feeding him, playing with him, making sure I didn't worry. He and mom discussed what they should do for me, when they should call the doctor and how I would get there. They both have been worn down by this cancer diagnosis. My father's body is reacting against it and he developed a stress rash that he has to take steroids for in order to function. Mom is so beat. She is getting up at night with Sammy so I can rest, then going to work on her feet for 10 hours a day and sometimes the weekends too. They put me first and have shown me what parents are supposed to do, how to be their support when they are weak. I know that both of them would walk through fire for me. I'm reassured on a daily basis by my mom that if she could take on my suffering, instead of me, that she would.
That's a parent's job, and their love and support has shown me just how much I need to survive for Sammy. I ache at the thought of not getting to pick up the pieces of his broken heart some day, or not being able to sleep next to him when he has a nightmare, or kissing his boo-boos like only a mom can do when he falls down. Moms and Dads are there to pull you up when you fall, give you a reassuring hug, and send you back out to figure out the world on your own. But they are always there in the background if you need them.
Now at 35 years old, I need my parents just as much as I did when I was five. They are the reason I am winning this fight, plain and simple. They have opened their home to us, fed us, cried with us, and rejoiced with us. Today, as I sat in that office waiting on the results of my scan, I looked at my mom. She looked tired, scared, but ready to catch me if I fell. She is as dependable as they come. She's my rock, just as her mother was her rock to her. Her hands have aged, but they are the same soft hands that dried my tears as a child, and held me when I broke down and needed a hug. Those same hands now clasp mine in the quiet moments...just to reassure me she is there.
My dad, he just got up and made me soup and rice for dinner, after I slept all day. He watched over me as I ate it, making sure I got the potassium I needed and ate my vegetables. Then he hugged me hard before he went to bed and told me to keep on fighting. That's what a Dad does. He makes you feel safe and supported no matter what your age.
What I guess I have learned through the twists and turns of this journey is you are never too old to come home. My parents have literally carried me through this hard time, protecting me, holding me and assuring their grandson that he is loved and cared for no matter what. So even though I may roll my eyes when my mom chases me around with a water bottle telling me to "Drink!" or when my dad makes me eat all the spinach because I need to fix my anemia, I still love them for what they are doing. They are putting me first, as they always have, and shooting the moon to make sure I win this fight.
Every night while I say my prayers in bed, I thank God for being born to these two people. I couldn't imagine not having their love and support through all of this. I don't know that I would be surviving without it. But I also pray for them because I don't know that they know how much they mean to me and my sisters. I pray that my dad stop smoking and drinking because if you were to see Sammy's face light up when he comes in the room, you would want him to be around forever too. I understand that cigarettes are like heroin and drinking numbs the pain and anxiety of what is going on, but we need you Dad. I need you, Sam needs you. And Mom, I pray that she take care of herself for once, instead of everyone else. Putting yourself on the backburner mom, is not the answer. Stop drinking the damn diet soda. You deserve to live a long happy life. I need you, Sam needs you.
I'm happy to report that I don't have meningitis and my x-rays showed no mets to my bones. A huge sigh of relief on all our parts.  But that didn't mean that my parents stopped caring. I was given time to rest and relax once I got home, to cry a little and be by myself. Mom told me she wished she could take it all away. Dad told me to keep on getting better. All the while, they were taking care of Sam, Bill and me. The thing is, Mom and Dad, you are taking it all away and making me get better. If it weren't for you, I would be struggling to stay afloat and feeling alone. You have shown me how to be for Sam and what being a parent is all about. Thank you for carrying me and loving me through all of this. Having you both on my side, I know, we got this.