I remember the day my mother told me that she had stage four cancer.
My mother had asked me to pick her up from the hospital where she was seeing a few doctors about some abdominal pain and swelling she was having. Since she did not hot have any health insurance, so she was given the standard run around for about 4 months until she was given Medicaid. During all this time she was jaundice, bloated, and always complained about abdominal pain. When she got the medical care to find out what was going on, she was diagnosed with liver cancer. (A month after the initial diagnoses of liver cancer, it was determined what she actually had was pancreatic cancer that had metastasized to her liver, lungs, and stomach.)
She blurred it right out. She wasn't crying. She wasn't overly emotional. She just told me she had cancer like she was telling me that she had a hair appointment next week.
My first thought, "Wow, she's gonna die." I was stunned, shocked, and lost all sense of reality for about 30 minutes, which was the length of the drive to her house.
During our drive home, we didn't say a word. Not a single word to each other. It was the longest and most painful silence I have ever experienced in my life. What do you say to someone who knows she is dying?
For the next year and a half, my mother was on every Chinese and modern medicine regiment to keep herself alive. She knew she was gonna go but she was gonna fight to stay alive as long as possible and be as happy and fulfilled as possible.
But during that year and a half, I saw her deteriorate before my eyes. The cancer had metastasized in her stomach to the point where she could no longer eat solid food because the tumors were inhibiting proper function. So the doctors had to put a shunt into her stomach followed through with an an externalized feeding port into her stomach. That still didn't bring get her down. Instead, asked me to buy her a $600 industrial blender so that she can blend anything she wanted and push it through the port (She blended a freshly grilled steak and a side of veggies, no joke). But she still went though the whole notion of going out to Dim Sum with me on occasional Sundays as we normal do for our family get together. Even thought she couldn't eat anything, she would quietly chew on something very small and then turn away politely to spit it out into a napkin.
When the doctors finally stopped giving her any medication that may prolong her life and just gave her papers for her to choose which hospice care she would like, she handed them to me. "If I get that bad," she said to me. "Then I probably am not be alive enough to care. So you choose." And she said all this with a nonchalant manner.
There are countless other details I witnessed in my mother's fight to stay alive as the cancer ate at her. But one thing she always had, she had some serious fight in her. During her illness, she went through two hurricanes by herself (one of which was Katrina that eventually devastated New Orleans), refusing to seek shelter with me. She got fired from one job because they found out she had cancer. So she went and looked for another one and she worked at that place till about 4 months before her death. She was pretty much happy and fighting till the day she passed on.
So for the entire month of October I dyed my whole head of hair pink in support of Gaming World Entertainment Network's Pink Day in LA event, raising money for breast cancer research. I was a walking neon sign screaming very loudly "HEY LOOK AT ME WITH THE BRIGHT HAIR!" So when stopped me on the street to compliment my hair, I took the small opportunity to raise a little awareness for breast cancer.
And I did it because I remember my mother and her fight. I remember her strength and her love of life. And most of all, I remember my anguish of watching her die. As long as I live, I will support legitimate cause to end cancer. Any cancer. Because I never want anyone else to watch their mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, children to die cancer. Cancer can be defeated. I know it can.
My mother had asked me to pick her up from the hospital where she was seeing a few doctors about some abdominal pain and swelling she was having. Since she did not hot have any health insurance, so she was given the standard run around for about 4 months until she was given Medicaid. During all this time she was jaundice, bloated, and always complained about abdominal pain. When she got the medical care to find out what was going on, she was diagnosed with liver cancer. (A month after the initial diagnoses of liver cancer, it was determined what she actually had was pancreatic cancer that had metastasized to her liver, lungs, and stomach.)
She blurred it right out. She wasn't crying. She wasn't overly emotional. She just told me she had cancer like she was telling me that she had a hair appointment next week.
My first thought, "Wow, she's gonna die." I was stunned, shocked, and lost all sense of reality for about 30 minutes, which was the length of the drive to her house.
During our drive home, we didn't say a word. Not a single word to each other. It was the longest and most painful silence I have ever experienced in my life. What do you say to someone who knows she is dying?
For the next year and a half, my mother was on every Chinese and modern medicine regiment to keep herself alive. She knew she was gonna go but she was gonna fight to stay alive as long as possible and be as happy and fulfilled as possible.
But during that year and a half, I saw her deteriorate before my eyes. The cancer had metastasized in her stomach to the point where she could no longer eat solid food because the tumors were inhibiting proper function. So the doctors had to put a shunt into her stomach followed through with an an externalized feeding port into her stomach. That still didn't bring get her down. Instead, asked me to buy her a $600 industrial blender so that she can blend anything she wanted and push it through the port (She blended a freshly grilled steak and a side of veggies, no joke). But she still went though the whole notion of going out to Dim Sum with me on occasional Sundays as we normal do for our family get together. Even thought she couldn't eat anything, she would quietly chew on something very small and then turn away politely to spit it out into a napkin.
When the doctors finally stopped giving her any medication that may prolong her life and just gave her papers for her to choose which hospice care she would like, she handed them to me. "If I get that bad," she said to me. "Then I probably am not be alive enough to care. So you choose." And she said all this with a nonchalant manner.
There are countless other details I witnessed in my mother's fight to stay alive as the cancer ate at her. But one thing she always had, she had some serious fight in her. During her illness, she went through two hurricanes by herself (one of which was Katrina that eventually devastated New Orleans), refusing to seek shelter with me. She got fired from one job because they found out she had cancer. So she went and looked for another one and she worked at that place till about 4 months before her death. She was pretty much happy and fighting till the day she passed on.
So for the entire month of October I dyed my whole head of hair pink in support of Gaming World Entertainment Network's Pink Day in LA event, raising money for breast cancer research. I was a walking neon sign screaming very loudly "HEY LOOK AT ME WITH THE BRIGHT HAIR!" So when stopped me on the street to compliment my hair, I took the small opportunity to raise a little awareness for breast cancer.
And I did it because I remember my mother and her fight. I remember her strength and her love of life. And most of all, I remember my anguish of watching her die. As long as I live, I will support legitimate cause to end cancer. Any cancer. Because I never want anyone else to watch their mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, children to die cancer. Cancer can be defeated. I know it can.
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