You Spin Me Round

A friend is away from home (and her fall colors) working in another state, so her mom sent her a wonderful fall-themed care package to remind her of home. It was such a sweet story, and sounded just like something my mom would have done. (She died earlier this year of gall bladder cancer, for those of you new to the blog.)

Her post brought back a memory of my first year of college. I turned 18 my first full month at school, and was very homesick. My mom baked me a birthday cake, frosting and everything, and shipped it to me at school. I think she even wrote "Happy 18th Birthday Lisa" on it or something (the answer to that question will be left to the ages; I'm sure my Dad wouldn't even remember this if I asked him about it).

I'm sure you can tell how this ends. The box of course bounced around in the shipping process, and by the time it reached me, two-and-a-half hours away at college, the frosting was stuck to the inside of the lid, so we had to scrape it off and put it back on the cake as best we could. I called to tell her I got it, and she felt so bad that it had been ruined. I am trying to remember if I said "thank you," I sure hope I did.

That story epitomizes my mom perfectly. Her ideas weren't always the best, but the best and most wonderful intentions were always behind them. I miss her so, so much.

-------

Two nights in a row now I've gotten in these horrible, seemingly never-ending crying jags that leave me blowing my nose until it's bloody. I am sure it's normal to go through this, but all these feelings, at the times I'm feeling them, are firsts for me, so I'm not sure if I'm handling this all correctly. Part of me wonders if it will be easier when my Dad passes someday, because I will know what to expect.

For the last several days, the nagging feeling has returned that my Mom didn't get proper care (the doctors made her wait to long to have her gall bladder out; told her it was a slow-moving disease, and it was okay to wait for the "good" oncologist for her chemo/radiation to get back from vacation; etc.). I just wonder if we should consult an attorney. Negligence is negligence, whether accidental or criminal. While I know it won't bring my mother back, I wonder if investigating whether one or more of her doctors did something wrong (even back to her internist who maybe should have checked her over more carefully during appointments; pushed harder for her to lose weight when it didn't seem like she was, even though she was exercising and not eating as much; referred her to a specialist if he felt like there was some reason to) --- and then punishing him/them for it --- would ensure that this doesn't happen to someone else.

On the other side of the coin, gall bladder cancer is very rare and there are supposedly no symptoms until it's too late. To her surgeon's and oncologist's credit, they did research several treatments both in Madison and other parts of the country, and worked in conjunction with UW Madison teaching hospital to design her chemo treatment. Also, maybe my Mom didn't pay enough attention to potential symptoms that could have helped to catch the cancer in an earlier stage, or prompted the doctors to remove the gall bladder before cancer could even form. Maybe she should have pushed harder to go to a sleep clinic for her sleep apnea, which is now what I am doing for myself (she knew she had it -- anyone who heard her snore knew she had it -- but she told us the doctor wanted her to lose some weight first). Maybe she subconsciously knew something wasn't right, and was afraid they would tell her she was sick (she was -- and my Dad still is -- not one to go to the doctor at the drop of a hat, which always drove me crazy -- THAT'S WHAT INSURANCE IS FOR!!!).

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Way too many maybes.

Looking into supporting/getting increasing funding for research into gall bladder cancer is a noble cause (my Dad said it kills him how much you see about eradicating breast cancer, but not what my Mom had which, in fairness, affects a vastly smaller portion of the population), but when you really get down to the cynical meat and bones, nothing more will really be known about it until a celebrity or politician -- or a member of one of their families -- is afflicted with the disease. Until that time comes, I struggle with what I should do, whether I should pursue this particular avenue, one of anger, litigation and punishment.

The last two nights I've asked her to come to me in my dreams, to let me know if I should move forward or drop it. In a dream last night I saw her at a carnival; she gave me a hug, and said something to the effect of, "I gave it/the key/something like that to M----!" (a crush I had in college). M is currently an ADA in a nearby county. So do I grasp at straws and think that maybe this was her way of telling me to call a lawyer? Or do I believe that while my mother liked crosswords and word games, she wasn't a cryptic person, and if she really wanted me to know something she would have just come out and told me?

I talked to my Dad a little about it tonight, and we wavered back and forth, finally ending on the attitude that this all happened as it was supposed to happen, it won't bring her back, etc. (basically the argument I laid out in the paragraphs above). He said that if he had to decide now, he'd tell me to drop it, but he said he wants to think about it a little bit; she'll be gone six months

feels like six years

on Nov. 12

two days after her birthday

so there is obviously still time. So I continue to run around and around on my mental hamster wheel, feeling lost, missing my mother so much some days it physically hurts, and smiling when I hear her voice on my parents' answering machine when I call to talk to my Dad and he's not home. Basically, just trying to hold it together.