“All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am”
My earliest memory of my mother is of her walking beside the pool, backlit by the bright morning sun, like a goddess. Her heels clicked on the pavement. Her hair shone in the light. Her tiny waist was cinched in above a full skirt, all Betty Draper style. She glowed. And I was proud that she was my mine. Then she was gone. I was having a swimming lesson with my sister in the frigid unheated pool at Cherokee Country Club. My mother was playing bridge in the River Room above. Eating triangle-shaped club sandwiches with the crusts cut off and those little toothpicks wearing cellophane party hats.
Fast-forward 50 years, a lifetime of bridge games and sunny days, children and grandchildren, happiness and heartbreak and now my mother has cancer.
There I said it. I’m not going to say it again. Not going to give that C-Word power or relevance. Because words are potent and I’d rather give power to words like Compassion. Courage. Clarity.
You’d think if you live to be 91, you’ve earned the right to die peacefully in your sleep. You go to bed and dream sweet dreams of paradise and pass seamlessly to the other side. No fear. No pain. Just love.
Gmamma has a pocketful of malignant tumors on her neck. We’re not sure when they appeared, because she hid them behind her Talbots mock turtlenecks, like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. Gmamma’s father, grandfather and brother were doctors. She grew up with a behind-the-mask look at medicine and a healthy respect for the horror of hospitals. To be avoided at all costs.
And then there’s Gmamma’s naturally stoic nature. Her high tolerance for pain. Stiff upper lip. No complaints. She’s no sissy, this one.
“I’ve always had swollen glands,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand and a defiant lift of her chin. “Ever since I was a child.”
So her tumors grew and grew until she couldn’t hide them anymore. And still they keep growing. She can’t speak above a whisper. It hurts to swallow. She is disappearing inside her new favorite cardigan sweater – pale gray, cable knit, not too short, not too long – my sister’s birthday gift, as requested by DooDaddy. Only it’s already too big, because Gmamma is wasting away.
Biopsies will name the C-Word. Squamous cell carcinoma, Non-Hodgkin lymphoma or something equally hideous and ominous sounding. There’s talk of radiation or proton therapy to hold the tumors at bay, keep them from slowly suffocating her or eating into her carotid artery or worse. Chemo and surgery are not options due to Gmamma’s frail health and congestive heart failure.
But it really doesn’t matter at this point. Because it is my mother’s choice now. I will do my damnedest to honor her wishes and swat away the well-intentioned experts and never-say-die doctors. Because this is Gmamma’s life. And so it will be her death. On her terms.
Now when I look into my mother’s ancient face, and see her pale blue eyes, blue as the summer sky behind her that day at the pool, I am praying that the Lord holds her in the palm of his hand and gives her comfort. I’m praying also for my father, her partner of 59 years, that he will walk beside her on these final steps of their journey together. And let go with love when the time comes.
Keeling, Gmamma and me circa 1963
Prayers for strength,courage and patience Laura. Your post is truly from the heart. May Gmamma keep up her style and dignity! She raised wonderful loyal children. Love to you all.
Love to you, my friend and thanks for your prayers!
My prayers are with you and your family.
Thanks, John XXOOO
Laura
When you first revealed the presence of the giant, secret lump, we all wondered. I’m so very sorry to hear it is indeed the C word. I am simultaneously devastated for you and your precious family and in awe of the beauty, humor and depth of your thoughts and words. Bravo
Sending so much love.
XXOOO
Oh Laura, I am sorry…..You are so eloquent in your writings…
Mary, I am so sorry for what you are going through with Matt. You are a strong woman and you inspire me. As does your tiny, powerful angel mother. Gmamma and DooDaddy love you so! XXOOO
I am praying for your wonderful family.
Thanks, Cindy. Much appreciated!
You are brave to share this Laura….must have gotten that from your mother. Prayers for all of you.
Sarah, what a lovely thing to say. Thank you for your prayers 🙂
Sending prayers of compassion and peace. And love. Always love. ❤️
XXOOO
My heart breaks for you and your family, as I know how difficult this is. Know you are doing the right thing for Gmamma, by letting her live the rest of her life on her own terms. Hugs to you, Doo-daddy, and Mac.
Hugs to you, sister friend.
This breaks my heart. I wish I had words that could comfort you but I’m at a loss. Sending love, prayers and unfortunately understanding of where you are. You and your sweet daddy will continue to be her strength
Oh Aunt G, I know you have walked many miles in my moccasins. Thank you for your love and support. XXOOO
Prayers for you all. Such thoughtful words for such a difficult time.
Thanks, sweet friend.
Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!
XXOOO
When a family health crisis hits, it takes our all. Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande is a book for all of us and I highly recommend it.
Thanks, Jean. I have put it on my Barnes & Noble list. XXOOO
You have called her name in a magnificent and beautiful way, Laura. So moving. May the love and strength of spirit you all share see you through the journey ahead.
Lori, thank you.
Laura, I admire your ability to write about this painful situation. You have an abundance of love and compassion for your parents, which is to be admired. I know your Mom is proud!! I am praying for all of you!
What a beautiful photo—great memories!! Hugs
Lois
Lois, I write about it, because I can’t talk about it. Such sweet memories of a life well lived. And she’s still at it – nibbling at her ice cream and fussing at my son to keep his hands off his face. Her gentle nagging is her way of showing love.
Prayers for your sweet Mom & your family. 🙏 hope time will show your family all the GOOD “C”‘s!
Thanks, Jennifer. Me2 😉
Words can’t express how sorry I am Laura. Praying for you all.
Bittersweet but all true. I pray that mom will feel the love surrounding her and be at peace as her life winds down.
Keeling
Me2, sis.
Laura, this is so eloquently written and you are blessed to have this God given talent to guide you through these days of trials with your parents. It is a gift you are giving to all of us too to put into words emotions most of us struggle with…..
Thank you for not only sharing your gift of words but also your vulnerability through this season of your families life.
I’m keeping an eye out for the silver lining in this cloud, Christine …