On that rainy day in September of 2001, I felt down, so I called the only person in the world who had made things better for me for the past two decades, my mother.
I began to rant about my problems, how my husband was never home, the house was a mess, the kids were fighting, looking back now, totally insignificant issues.
Mom
When I ended my pity party, I asked without any enthusiasm in my voice, "So how are you doing?"
Her response shattered my world. "I've got about 3 weeks to live." And that was all she said. I asked endless questions, only to get the same response, to not worry about her, her salvation was assured and she was okay with it. The one piece of information I did get out of her was that she had advanced Multiple Myloma, degenerative cancer of thethorns.
I flew to my childhood home that night. She was unable to get up, even to go to the restroom. My father was exhausted, and could do no more. I refused to believe that she was leaving me so soon, so I consulted her physicians and got permission to bring her home to Florida with me.
Me and my sister scoured the phone books for oncologist. We were fortunate to find one of the best in the area only 8 miles from my home. He made her an appointment immediately.
To run the test, he had to hospitalize her. Confirming the diagnosis she had received in Kentucky, he gave us two options for her treatment. After she underwent radiation therapy for the spots on her back, we could put her on chemotherapy, or try a treatment that was not FDA approved, called Thalidomide. In herweakened state, felt would kill her chemo before the cancer did, so we went with the 10 pills of this drug that had been removed from the market because it caused severe birth defects, and it had not been fully tested on cancer patients. The cost was over $ 5,000 a month, and with no FDA approval, we had to jump through hoops to get the medicine. But God was willing, and we got it.
After the first month, mom began to get her strength back. She was able to sit up in bed by herself, make it to the potty placed beside her bed, and eat. She ate so much she put on 20 pounds in 3 months! Not bad for a cancer patient.
When we began to see her improving so much, I finally worked up the courage to ask Dr. Ron "what her prognosis was. He told me, very confidently and actually encouragedto be saying it, she had about 3 years.
mom is still with me, and dad, and my kids, and my sisters and brother, and her grandchildren, and her great grandchildren, and who knows, if she gets any stronger, she may even see her great great grandchildren.
I'm counting on it.
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