You absolutely must read Jill’s recent article about her mother’s death to cancer (today is the 14 year anniversary of her death).
Our family found solidarity in our mission to fight the beast that was waging a war in our midst. The surprising intensity of sorrow made it difficult to just be; we had to act, or heartache would simply overtake us. But at some point, a certain reality sunk in; we had run out of options, and the days of searching for different treatments were coming to a halt.
For me, I think this moment came while spending the night in the reclining chair next to Mom’s hospital bed, when the night nurse walked in wearing a raincoat to protect herself from the vile liquid that she was about to inject into Mom’s I.V. (It was the middle of the night and Mom was actually sleeping, which is a good thing, because I’m pretty sure she would have come undone if she knew what happened next.) The nurse in her distinct southern accent said to me, “Honey, you know this is bad. Most people don’t live through this, and if the cancer doesn’t kill your Mom, this chemo may.” As the night wore on, and it was obvious I wasn’t going to sleep –I wondered into the sterile hospital hall, and helped myself to the thick medical folder outside of our door. I think somehow I already knew…
I. Can’t. Change. This.
You can read the rest at Sixseeds.tv.