As a society today, we have access to so much information. All it takes is a couple clicks on Google or Bing and we can read and learn about an infinite amount of topics. Sometimes that's good, like when you need directions on how to change a tire. Sometimes it bad, like when you spend the night researching your Mother-In-Laws new diagnosis and find that the prognosis is not good.
(read Heartbroken posted on July 16 if you haven't already to get caught up.)
So, N called last night when she was released from the hospital. The doctors decided that it was pointless, and expensive, to keep her overnight since my Father-In-Law is available to drive her to all her appointments. I was at a meeting at the kid's school when she called, and my husband, being strong as always, gave me the information when I got home.
Her pancreatic cancer is stage 2b. Basically, according to the research that I have done, that means that it has spread past her pancreas into her blood vessels and surrounding organs. Chances are high that it has also gotten into her lymph nodes. She has a CT scan for this morning to determine if surgery is possible, but it is only a 10% chance.
I looked at what I thought would be the most reliable website, The American Cancer Society, for more information. At stage 2b, she has a 5% chance of survival.
I slammed my laptop shut.
And did the most (il)logical thing I could think of. I filled a tall glass with Tequila Rose and just started to drink. Because, you know, drinking in a situation like this when you are on medication is the best thing to do. (I hope that you all can catch the sarcasm in that.)
Feeling light-headed and overly emotional, I laid in bed with my cell-phone and did something else that I am sure I will regret. I texted my Mom. I told her that N had cancer, how bad it was, and that I wanted this fight between the family to be over.
I am not sure why I did that. I think that I did it because learning about N's cancer has made me see that J and I are truly getting to that stage in our lives where the death of our parents is more of a reality. Thinking about either of my parents getting this diagnosis and me not knowing because we are not speaking, well, that would be too much. I want to see my mom, I want to give her a hug, I want her to be back in my kid's lives. I want to be able to call her up and talk to her about what is going on. I want to be able to turn to her when N is going through rough patches and lean on her for support. I want things to go back to how they were before I got sick.
Today is tough. I begged my husband to stay home, but he has tomorrow off of work to go out with his best friend so that just wasn't possible. I feel raw emotion sitting right at the surface, and I am trying not to cry because I don't know how I would explain it to the kids. I am praying this next hour until the Nanny gets here goes by quick. I want to crawl into my bed and nurse my wounds. I want to crawl under my covers and pray that the doctors find that they can operate on N and that her prognosis isn't as bad as first thought. I want to figure out how to be strong for J, for my family, for my extended family. I want to be a good man in a storm. I want this all to just go away.
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