Two Years

The day after Thanksgiving marks the 2nd anniversary of my mom's death. And let me tell you, each year, I relive the horrible week we weren't really prepared for. It all starts on Halloween when I remember how my mom was heading to Israel and how she had a hard time breathing on the plane. My dad told me and I felt so sad for her. She always wanted to go to Israel and she was on her way, but not with 100% lung capacity.......... and with a group of strangers. It was a little risky health-wise, but she was determined. She struggled through the trip, but she made it!

When she returned, it wasn't long. She was scheduled for a surgery to help reduce the amount of fluid going into her lungs and I didn't think much of it. I remember getting the call that things didn't go well and how my dad actually thought she was going to die during the surgery (which they didn't even do). Life was never that same after that. A surgery turned into hours and days at the hospital watching our mom stop eating and eventually doing a lot of sleeping (which we later found out was a coma). We all took turns staying, and when I couldn't stay, my sister and I texted updates about our mom all night. It was so surreal and we felt so helpless.

When our mom was awake, we all tried to stay so positive. We'd excuse ourselves and cry in the hall. I remember one day when I arrived I was told in the hall that she had a huge tumor and they couldn't do anything about it. It was pretty much the worst thing to hear. I walked into the room, sat on the bed with my mom and cried while I hugged her. I told her I was sorry I was crying and she said, "I know, this is tough stuff." I wish I could write that after that point I asked her important questions, soaked up her wisdom or even listened to her talk about her life, but things went fast, it was busy with visitors and I just didn't think she was going to die (denial maybe).

When she was awake, she didn't really talk much or would try to fall back to sleep. I do have a memory of all of us trying to get her to eat. My dad went out and bought her a blizzard. She wasn't even close to interested in it and if you knew my mom, you know that wasn't normal. We all have an amazing sweet tooth. She gave us a look and I knew she wasn't going to eat anymore. This was one of the many signs that her body was done fighting. It was hard to see and it only got worse.

It is amazing how much I miss my mom (and especially this week) and all the memories I have of her last weeks alive. I wish I could call her up or go and cuddle with her on the green couch. Today I heard a song from her funeral and I cried in the kitchen. Yesterday, I heard another song that just reminded me of her and I cried as I was driving with my kids. I try to talk about my mom with the boys, but they don't really remember her. This is the hardest thing for me. I wanted my kids to know my mom and have fun memories with her. But I will continue to talk about her, show pictures of her and sing some of her favorite songs with my kids. They might not know her the way I wanted, but they will at least know a part of her.

It feels good to write about this......and I'm sure there will be more this week.

The Waiting Game

Well, we met with the plastic surgeon about two weeks ago and things are on there way. After our initial introduction, he told me to put on the gown and he'd be back. Well, he forgot to mention that he'd be brining in his assistant to take pictures of my chest.....and my face so she "could recognize me by my face and not just my chest". Ha! Like my chest would leave that kind of impression on someone. : ) It was kind of strange, as I stepped into an adjoining room set up for pictures and disrobed in front of a stranger and my husband in the next room watching. Just a little weird. I wish I would have known about the pictures. I would have had perfect posture to make sure no one saw the lines from my stomach folds. Oh, the things you think about.

After a long and thorough conversation about the operations, options and details, we were on our way. I liked him. We made him laugh which is a good sign. He told me this was a smart move and again, I felt encouraged by my decision. I do have a lot of decisions to make- do I keep my nipples (another interesting conversation), do I do a one-step or multiple surgeries, etc. At this point, I want someone to tell me what to do (because they know best) and I will do it.

I have decided to stay in MN for the surgery. I threw around the idea of traveling to NY to have it done in one-step at the same place my cousin had it done, but I think I need to be home. I want to be surrounded by family and friends and I don't think I could be away from my boys for that long. In fact, I have a feeling this surgery will bring a lot of feelings out and I just might need the support of family and friends.

Now we wait. The plastic surgeon sent a letter to our insurance company and now we wait to see if they will approve it. If they do, we will schedule the surgery for their earliest appointment available, which is in February now. I want to get in as soon as possible so we only have to pay our deductible once for all of the surgeries. This whole process/surgeries could take up to a year.....I hope not though. And now we wait and see.

Why are you doing this surgery?

I love this question and I hate it. I get this question quite a bit when I tell people what I'm about to do. What's great about it is that I have to rethink why I truly am doing this surgery and communicate it to someone who doesn't know my family history, the hundreds of dollars or more (more like a thousand) I spend on preventative testing a year and the statistics and encouragement I get to do the surgery from my doctors. The bummer thing about this question is you can immediately tell who thinks this is a drastic decision and maybe unnecessary. They give you a quick "wow" and an "I'm so sorry" look and don't give you much eye contact. It is very interesting. It sure helps you to be confident in the decision you've made and how you communicate it to others.

I have to admit, there are days when I struggle with how I could be one of the 40% who doesn't get breast cancer or how I should trust God. And then there are days when the slightest pain makes me think that I have cancer. It sure hasn't been fun. So, I can have a surgery that reduces my chances to almost nothing or live in fear thinking about WHEN I will have cancer. It sure isn't a fun place to be in and I'm ready to take the next step to give me peace of mind.

Next step: I continue to research the One Step surgery (It has been nice because I have a cousin who has already done this surgery and is full of helpful information) and I will meet with a plastic surgeon next week. Time to write down questions, get answers, make a decision on which surgery and then set a date.