The Process

Today was my first day going with my mom to chemo. We were literally waiting ALL DAY! From 9am to 3pm we were waiting in a clinic for one thing or another to happen. YESH! When my mom checked in, the nurse said that my mom wasn't scheduled. She gave us directions of other people to talk to to get scheduled. So we tracked down these people and her name was put on a list. (Oh good, a list...) We began by going to the blood draw area so they can take 3 vials of blood to check Mom's white blood cell count. If it's too low, then she can't get chemo that day. It basically to make sure that the chemo will do more good than harm. Then we wait for an extremely long time to get the results from the lab back. Finally the nurse calls her name and we go back where 30 other cancer patients are sitting with IV's dripping into them. Most people think of chemo as some sort of radiation that makes your hair fall out. That is false. Yes, radiation makes your hair fall out, but not chemo. Chemo is an injection. And you keep your hair. For pancreatic cancer, my mom doesn't get radiation. Only chemo. So the nurse sticks her with a big needle and the IV with the chemo in it has to drip into her blood stream for about 2 hours. While it's dripping, the nurse gives my mom a few pills to take. I think they were for anti-nausea... Then it's time to pull back out my book while my mom takes a nap (chemo makes her tired). Finally that cursed machine starts beeping and that means it's DONE! We drive home, but LA traffic in rush hour is not so speedy. It takes us almost twice as long to get home as it did to get to the clinic. In the end, we got home safely and life is good again.

My mom kept apologizing for me having to be there. Anytime I showed the slightest discomfort or boredom she would tell me that I didn't have to come (which isn't true b/c she can't drive after chemo). Honestly though, I wouldn't rather be anywhere else. If she has to be there, then that's where I want to be. Could you imagine waiting there all alone? That would be TEN TIMES worse! What astounds me is that my mother, who has to get poked with all these needles, and endure the side effects of many drugs, is still more concerned about MY boredom level! And not once did I hear her complain about her pain! Mothers are amazing! What an example I have. And I am so thankful for her example.

Can't Sleep

As some of you may know, I’m taking Winter semester off to be with my family, particularly my mom. She is very sick with cancer and no one is certain how much longer she’ll with us.

I know that all of you are very well meaning and I can feel the great concern you have for me at this time, but for my own sanity I have created this blog, so that I don’t have to answer certain difficult questions many times. I can’t bear to have so many people calling/texting me regularly to see if I’m ok. It really doesn’t help. I’ll update this when I feel like it needs to be.

So.

If you’re wondering how my mom is doing: She’s dying. The woman who raised me and changed my diapers is dying. Whether she will die from this or not is yet to be determined, but the fact remains, that as of now, yes... She’s dying. She’s physically weak and feeble and nauseous all the time. She’s forced to get toxic injections because that’s the only way modern medicine knows to keep her alive. Her spirits are high though and I know her faithfulness has not wavered once through this whole ordeal.

If you want to know if you can help: You can! You can pray for her. Pray with all your faith. If you go to a Temple, put her name on the prayer roll (Her name is Nancy Dye). Fast for her. If you feel like you have nothing important to fast for on the first Sunday of the month, choose her.

If you’re wondering what I’ll be doing while I’m at home: I’ll be with my mom. She’s my number one priority. I won’t be working, I won’t be socializing, I won’t be traveling, since these things take me away from her almost as much as school does. I’ll be with her, whenever she needs me… always.

If you’re wondering how I’m doing: Know that I’m heartbroken. Know that I’m barely holding on. Know that when you speak to me, you’re only talking to a small piece of me because the rest of my being is with her. Realize that I’m faking my smile and that every moment is a struggle to be happy. Know too that I’m still faithful and prayerful that all will end up right and that God’s plan is greater than mine. My rock and my foundation will I forever rely on, and for this I am eternally grateful.

What you should take away from this:

Be thankful every moment for the blessings that the Lord has poured out on you, a lowly sinner.

Be thankful for your family…especially your mom.

Instead of speaking to me of your worry, speak instead of your joys! Let me hear from your mouth the wonderful things that you experience!

Do not pity me, but rejoice in the refiners fire that puts everyone of us through seemingly unbearable circumstances, only to end up closer to and more like our Savior.