I told myself I should journal over the weekend. A little voice kept telling me to post the good news. But I was reluctant to go down yet another “illness” path. We have chased after a few diagnosis lately. Was this really the answer? It was almost too good to be true. And sure enough, with a phone call today, everything has changed once again.
On Friday, after the cardiologists were at a loss, they were going to release Mom from the hospital. However, since her thyroid numbers were off, they decided to call in an Endocrinologist to see what he could make of Mom’s symptoms. It didn’t take him long at all: hyperthyroidism. It’s been known to cause Afib. Was it the cause of her’s? Did they miss it last December? Was this the “we’ve missed something” her doctor was talking about? Wow.
Good news. Bad news.
It is treatable. Yay. It should have been caught 8 months ago. Boo.
Can treating her thyroid reverse all her symptoms? She has lost so much, I don’t think she’ll ever get back to her baseline. But she still might improve and get “healthy” again.
It was the best news we had had in months. Treatable. Curable. Reversible.
Over the weekend, a heaviness lifted, as I thought about Mom’s returning life. Would she stay with us? Should we cancel her apartment lease after all? Could she putt a couple more rounds before fall’s end? I looked again at the website of the retirement village that faded into the background as Mom’s health declined. Relief. Hope. Joy even.
I thought she’d be released from the hospital today. I got a call from the pharmacy that a prescription was ready for pickup. I thought, ‘ok, that must be the thyroid medicine’. I was waiting on the call from the hospital. But the call came from my sister.
“She isn’t being released today”.
“Cardio doctor concerned about shortness of breath”.
“Cancer markers are very high again”.
“Calling in the oncologists …. again”.
Big Sigh. Big Fat Excruciating Sigh. Seriously?
Several hours later, I receive another call — this time from the oncologist. I am the first one on Mom’s family list, so I often get the call from the hospital. I have a bit of trouble understanding her, but we do our best to communicate. She says, ‘This is a very difficult case. We have found nothing, but when we do, it will be in the advanced stages and it will be incurable.” The boldness of that statement catches my breath mid-lung. I stop multitasking and sit, grab a pen, and begin to write as she continues to talk.
We’ve been down this road before. She knows that. She has all the reports from Mom’s stay 3 weeks ago at another, neighboring hospital. However, she insists that ‘another set of eyes’ reviewing those reports will reveal the cancer source. This oncologist is just as convinced as the previous oncologist was that my mother has cancer.
Would she. Could she. Should she. No, probably not.
It is now 3 p.m. I live over an hour from the hospital and I am caring for my 6 month old grandson today until 5:30. I pick up the phone and call my mother. I need to hear her voice. I need to know what she has comprehended from all this medical speak. Her voice is strong. She is just getting back from “some test”, xrays, she thinks. I talk to her about the high markers, and yes, she knows they are looking for cancer again. She remains positive as she says, ‘well, they didn’t find it last time’. Yay — good for you, Mom. We talk a few more minutes, and I tell her I will be down early in the morning.
The first post in this blog started with the diagnosis of my mother’s dementia. I thought that was our journey. And even though her memory loss has been apparent throughout the last several months, it has definitely not been the focal point of our daily walk. Mom has been fighting for her life. I guess dementia has played its biggest role in keeping my mother from that realization. She didn’t know/understand/comprehend that these could be her last days.
Who would ever think that dementia could be a blessing?