This Sandwich Has a New Slice of "Bread"

My mother...Arline Chandler Smith

Life has a strange way of taking turns you never expected.  When my 76-year-old mother began to complain of pain and soreness in her abdomen last February, I thought little of it...particularly given that her long-time internist in Little Rock did not even examine her when she mentioned it to him.  In fact, he brushed it off and said, "You're not telling me anything that raises concern."  But the pain and discomfort continued through the summer.  And a few months after Mother's internist told her that this was nothing to worry about, he was arrested and charged with running a prescription painkiller ring from his office.  He now faces federal charges, as well.

So Mother found herself without a doctor, and after praying about what to do, she opted to start seeing a nurse practitioner at a local clinic.  Her thinking was that this person could at least refer her to specialists who drove the 65 miles from Little Rock to practice in the outpatient clinic at our local hospital.  Mother mentioned the pain to her NP, who suggested maybe she needed to see a surgeon for an endoscopy.  This was in August...the first available appointment for a consult was November 12th.

Greg pushes Zola in a swing installed in the
backyard at Mother and Lee's house. Behind
them is the platform for the new playhouse.

Meanwhile, Mother was going about her busy schedule pretty much as usual.  She and her husband, Lee, traveled to Tennessee in July for a family reunion.  She tended to Lee as he saw doctors about health scare that some thought might require surgery.  Thankfully, Lee is healthier and stronger at 77 than many men in their 30s, so he is in "watch-and-wait" mode with his health issue.  He put a new roof on their house last spring, and after getting his "good" diagnosis this summer, he set in to build a play house in their back yard for my great-niece and nephews...Zola, Timothy and Nathan.  Lee and Mother had installed a new wood fence around the yard a couple of summers ago, and he saved the fence boards.  They are now being repurposed into a playhouse - complete with front porch, pitched roof, and windows!

Mom offered to keep our 3-year-old great-nephew on Fridays while my niece and her husband work.  The other two children are in school, but a place was needed for Nathan.  Greg and I kept him this summer on Mondays and some Fridays and other weekdays...but Mother wanted to take the "Friday shift."  She enjoyed several visits from Nathan...and my niece, Jasmine would come after work and bring Timothy and Zola and spend an hour or so visiting and letting the children play in the back yard.

All of this changed on September 21st, when Mom awoke with what she thought was a UTI.  We laughed, because she immediately "doctored" herself with Cipro, an antibiotic that she had purchased at the "pharmacia" in Mexico while she and Lee wintered in Arizona.  In fact, she messaged me before noon and said, "I'm much better already, and I feel silly to go to the clinic.  But I guess I will go ahead and keep my appointment.

At the clinic, my mother saw another Nurse Practitioner.  She mentioned again the pain in her abdomen...and this woman examined her.  "Your stomach is 'hard'," she told Mother.  She ordered a CT scan at the hospital for the next morning and told my mother that she would call in the afternoon with the results.  Before noon, she had phoned to say, "You have a mass in your stomach, and you need to return to the hospital for blood work.  We will probably order a biopsy."

My mother is an avid traveler.  She is a free-lance writer, author of eleven books, and weekly contributor to a website for RVers - RVLife.com - where she maintains a blog about her travels with Lee in their 42-foot motorhome.  When Mother received this news, she had a PR trip planned to Branson, Missouri - which is something of her "second home." Businesses and attractions in Branson were hosting writers and media people from across the country for the weekend.  It would be almost 3 days of good food, great shows and entertainment, and topnotch hospitality.  Mom got the blood work done and opted to go to Branson.  She and Lee returned home late Sunday evening.

Monday morning, I got an e-mail from Mother..."I have a serious problem, Debbie. The tests show cancer markers and it’s my ovaries. But there is more than one mass. [The Nurse Practitioner] has blocked off an hour to talk to me—to us—in the morning at 10:00, unless they can do the biopsy tomorrow. She offered to come to my house and talk to us tonight—in fact, she said she felt so heavy about this that she almost called and asked to come last night. I want you and Suzanne [my sister] to go with me to talk to her, as well as Lee. This is going to be OK—no matter what. Just going to be a battle ahead." 

So the following morning, Greg and I met my mother and Lee, and my sister Suzanne, at the clinic.  We all squeezed into a tiny exam room where the Nurse Practitioner came in and introduced herself to each of us, then sat in the floor with her laptop and a folder of test results...and she began to give us the "report."  Mother has multiple masses, ranging in size from 2.5cm to 10cm...and they were all over - near her liver, in the lower quadrants of her pelvis, and floating in her abdomen.  None were thought to be attached to organs.  While the CA125 blood test for ovarian cancer is not reliable - often giving a false negative - Mother's did indicate a positive.  "Normal" range is less than 30...my mother's count was 300.  The nurse kept telling her how sorry she was.

I guess I was in disbelief.  Mother had not seen a doctor.  Perhaps this was all a mistake.  But a biopsy was scheduled for that Thursday morning in Little Rock.  Mother would not let us go with her...Lee drove her down for the procedure.  After the biopsy, she did ask if I would keep Nathan on Friday...she realized that she was too groggy and sore to manage him.  She was scheduled for a consult with the oncologist on the next Thursday.  After Mother and Lee met with the oncologist, they came to our house and met with Greg and me - and Suzanne - and delivered the official report.

The oncologist felt like all indications were that this was ovarian cancer; however, he wanted to examine blood work and get a PET scan to be sure. Those have now been studied, and his best guess is that an ovary ruptured and "spewed cancer cells" throughout my mother's abdomen. The good news is that there is no spread beyond the abdomen - nothing in the chest and beyond.  The oncologist is treating this as Stage 3C Ovarian Cancer...and aggressive chemotherapy was begun on Thursday, October 8th.  

Mother got IV drugs for nausea - and steroids - and then she spent the next three hours receiving  Paclitaxel (conventional) and Carboplatin.  On Friday, she got a shot of Neulasta to boost her immune system - to the tune of $5000.  Thankfully, she is told that her insurance company will cover this.  But she must have Neulasta after each of her chemo treatments, which are scheduled for every 3 weeks.  Her oncologist told her that within 2 weeks of this first treatment, she will begin to lose her hair.

Mother felt GREAT after the treatment...like she could climb a mountain (the steroids).  She didn't sleep much Thursday night, but on Friday, she still was energized...until sometime late afternoon.  She thought maybe it was the Neulasta, but she had a "small sinking spell" while shopping and hurried home.  Saturday she laid around and did not feel well...by Sunday, she had all of the side effects - nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, body aches and pains.  The only thing missing was hair loss...and she is bracing for that.  She feels lousy...is in bed a lot...and her world has been turned upside down.

In the course of less than a month, my mother has gone from planning her next trip to planning a trip to buy a wig when her hair falls out.  In the course of ten days, she has gone from spending a happy Friday with her 3-year-old great-grandson and an hour or so of play with her other two great-grandchildren and their mother to being unable to sit up and answer e-mail at her desk for more than an hour or so before returning to bed.

I will tell you...I feel pretty helpless.  I want to do for her...and there is nothing to do.  She said, "Keeping the children is helping me.  If you will keep Nathan on Fridays, that will be your part."  Somehow, it doesn't feel like enough - and yet, I know that more "opportunities" to "do" will come in the next few weeks and months.  So Friday, I kept Nathan.  Sundays after church, the children come home with us for a few hours, and we did that yesterday.  Today there was no school for Timothy, so both he and Nathan came to my house for the day while their parents worked. I take the two oldest children to Taekwondo lessons on Mondays and Tuesdays...so tomorrow, we will go to our class.  Mother keeps e-mailing me and thanking me for doing these things for the children.

Timothy rides his tricycle on Mother's carport.  They recently
bought the kids this tricycle - complete with bell and tassles!

I am still trying to process all of this in my own head.  The children do not know about my mother, other than that Granny did not feel well Friday, so Nathan came here.  At six years old, Timothy is incredibly sensitive about old age and death.  He thinks that anyone who gets sick - or old - "will die like Mam-ma Polly."  He remembers her death...and paired with the deaths of two beloved family pets who were old and sick, he has formulated the idea that when you are sick or get old, you die!  And this worries him.  When Mother starts to lose her hair, the children will have to be told something...but we have a few days until then.  And her doctor has told her that she is to avoid sick people and small children...so her contact with them will have to be limited anyway.

Nathan sits at our kitchen counter
during one of his Friday visits.

So my days are once again filled with children and their activities...and caring for a loved one at the other end of the age continuum - as much as she will allow!  I really anticipated caring for my mother when she was 90...not 76.  And I'm really not sure what to do with all of this information just yet.  I am trusting God to take me by the hand and lead me, because I feel like we're all somewhat fumbling in the dark at this point.  I know that He is more than able...and that He has my mother - and all of us - in the palm of His hand.

For now, I commiserate when Mother sends an e-mail to tell me she is going back to bed...and I color another picture with Timothy and play "superheroes" with Nathan or read a story to Zola.  It's doesn't seem like enough...but somehow, for now...it is.

New Day - New "Sandwich"...What's in Yours?

As I write this post, I am sitting in the parking lot of an "eye clinic" in a nearby city.  Greg is inside with his mother, aka "Grandma E", who is having another "field test" for her glaucoma.  This is the third such test since October, when the doctor saw something she did not like.  She hoped it was a fluke, so Greg returned his mother in November for a second test, but the results were still not where the doctor hoped they would be.  Testing in December was delayed twice by icy weather... so here we are today.  Hopefully the results will be satisfactory and no additional treatment or testing will be necessary for awhile. (Added note...all seems well for now.)

 

I realize it has been a couple of months since my last post.  The "holiday months" were quite busy for all of us. Greg and I celebrated Thanksgiving quietly with Grandma E...she joined us for a lunch that I prepared.  My mother and her husband were away in Kentucky on a Workamping assignment, and the "kids" opted to have their own Thanksgiving dinner.  So I cooked a turkey dinner for three...and then we watched the original version of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty!

With just a few weeks before Christmas, I got busy the following day turning our house from a warm den of autumn coziness into a festive celebration of Christmas.  Thanks to Greg's help and "brute strength" in carrying all of the boxes down from the attic and assembling the big Christmas tree, I had everything decorated in a record two days!  Then it was on to baking and sewing...cookies, holiday breads, and pajamas, doll clothes and more.

In between, we endured a major ice storm that virtually shut down the town for about three days or more.  This put a halt to scheduled activities like the children's Christmas program at church, the Christmas parade, and many other events that had to be rescheduled.

I took the children to church two different afternoons to practice for their program.  As preschoolers, their role was to dress as angels and "ring bells". Assembling more than a dozen 2-to-5-year-olds...each holding two bells...is something akin to herding cats.  But the veteran conductor patiently persevered, and by the end of the second rehearsal, the children had pretty well figured out what to do and when to ring - and when not to ring!  And the adults had learned that it really didn't matter what happened... it was all going to be cute. When we would talk about the children's program, Timothy would say, "Everyone will be so PROUD of me!"  And we were!

At one of the rehearsals for the children's program, we gathered in the sanctuary. Since our children attend their Sunday school class while we attend worship in the sanctuary, they had never seen this room before.  Now it was fully decorated...massively tall tree filled with Chrismon decorations...poinsettias lining the choir loft railing...almost life-sized creche and angels in the foyer.

Timmy was in total awe. He kept pointing to the stained glass window over our choir loft that depicts a dove and the cross and saying, "Hey!  Look at that pigeon diving into the water!"  Even after I explained that it was a dove, he still called it a pigeon!  I explained to Timmy that this was where Uncle Greg and Grandma E and I come while he and Zola are in Sunday school.  He was impressed... but he still thinks there is a picture of a pigeon diving into the water over the choir loft!

The program was rescheduled, and the children stepped up to the plate and performed well.  Everyone enjoyed the production.

A few days later, the Christmas parade was held...having been rescheduled because of the ice storm.  I don't know who had more fun...the little ones or Grandma E.  The parade lasted about 45 minutes... and there was never a lull.  Our local courtsquare was fully lit and sparkled and glistened with brightly colored lighted trees, a nativity scene, a gingerbread house, and more. The two-storied courthouse glistened with lights outlining every window, wall and roof...and the children AND Grandma reacted as if they were walking through a fairyland.

Timothy had told us, "We won't see the real Santa. I don't think we will see the real Santa.  And we sure won't see Mrs. Santa."  A float came along with Santa - two of them - one on either side.  Clearly that was not the "real" Santa.  But THEN... a car came along with Santa... and MRS. Santa!  Timothy was so excited.

After the parade, we opted not to wait on the courthouse lawn to see Santa Claus and sit on his lap.  We headed up the sidewalk through an archway of lighted trees that Timothy had declared to be "magic" and we came face-to-face with Santa.  He walked up to Greg and Timothy and stuck out his hand and said, "Hello!  Merry Christmas!"  Timothy didn't miss a beat.  He said, "Merry Christmas, Santa!"

Then Santa came to Zola, Grandma E and me.  We had been told that Zola was scared to death of Santa, but he knelt and stuck out his hand and said, "Merry Christmas!" and she just grinned and giggled and said something we could not understand.

Timothy talked all the way home about seeing the REAL Santa and seeing MRS. Santa.  He loved the parade except for one thing... there was no Grinch.  He is hoping for a Grinch in the parade next year!

On Christmas Day, everyone gathered at our house for a big dinner and presents and stockings under the tree.  The children were so excited... Santa Claus had come to their house overnight, and now, they were getting to see not only their grandparents (my sister and her husband), but us, Grandma E, and my mother and her husband - just back from a nearly-four-month stay in Kentucky.  To say it was loud and crazy would be an understatement.  But it was also tremendous fun!

 

My point in sharing all of this with you is to make several observations:

• During the holidays, I found myself doing MANY of the things that my Mam-ma Polly did when I was younger...baking, sewing, filling the Christmas stockings for Santa, preparing the holiday meals, and more...and I thought of her...a LOT! 
• I also found myself juggling trips to take the children to rehearsals, attending Timothy's pre-K Christmas program, visiting Mam-ma's friends (and mine) at the Assisted Living Facility, and reaching out to people from multiple generations during the holidays.
• Most notably, I realized that Greg and I still are very much a part of the "Sandwich Generation" as his 87-year-old mother has assumed the senior role...and the three little ones still keep us hopping on the other end of the spectrum! These children could not love Grandma E more if she were their own flesh and blood.  The two oldest ones almost cry on Sunday if she doesn't go with us to church and out to lunch afterward.  And I'm noticing that she is always thinking about something to do for them...some little toy or trinket to give them.  It's a great relationship for everyone.

Grandma E's antics are not as entertaining - much less, challenging - as Mam-ma's grew.  Mainly, she is forgetful... and stubborn (like going to retrieve her paper in the ice after Greg expressly told her NOT to go outside)...and she would rather stay home and babysit a dog than do just about anything else in the world.  She is truly remarkable for a woman well on her way to age 88, and we hope she still has many good years of living alone in her own home and doing as she pleases ahead of her.

The best three words in the world from the kiddos are "I love you."  Timmy freely tells Greg, Grandma E and me that he loves us.  In fact, on the way home from lunch one Sunday, Timothy blurted out... "Grandma E... I love you!"  Melts the heart!  He also tells Grandma E nearly EVERY Sunday after lunch, "Thank you for paying for lunch, Grandma E!"

Our little ones are learning valuable lessons about life and relationships from the time they spend with my mother-in-law...and she gets just the right dose of being a great-grandmother in return!

In recent months, I've been asked more than once..."Now that Polly is gone, what do you do with all of your spare time?"  Clearly, that "gap" has filled in rather nicely.  Each "Sandwich" is different...but from the looks of things, we'll still be part of The Deli for several years yet!  I look around at others who are smack dab in the middle of their own "Sandwich", and I marvel at how some of them manage to "keep all the balls in the air".  For others, I offer three words of advice..."Hang in there."  We are not alone...this subset of the population grows by leaps and bounds every single day.  If you are not presently a member of the "Sandwich Generation", you very well could be next week or next year!

 

Knowledge is power, and for that reason, I am continuing this blog.  Please share your stories...your insights...what works for you - and what doesn't.  Ask questions, seek support...and know that there are people who can help.  Someone asked me last week, "What's next for you?  What are you looking forward to this year?"  I honestly do not have an answer... but I certainly know that life will be anything but dull.  What about you?