Three: Treatment One: Chemotherapy

Three: Treatment One: Chemotherapy

On December 27^th, 2016, my husband and I met my parents at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Voorhees, NJ. We met with mom’s main oncologist, and a different doctor, Dr. Alex.  According to my mom, she loved him immediately and felt very comfortable.  Really, that’s all that mattered. That other doctor who I mentioned earlier about misdiagnosing my mom with pancreatic cancer did not bode well. My mom didn’t’ care for his bedside manners and she had every right to feel that way.  She was the patient after all. I remember briefly mentioning to Dr. Alex about cells on mom’s pancreas, “stage 4 pancreatic.”  And he calmly said to me, “well when we looked at your mom’s scans, there was nothing on the pancreas. Forget about the pancreas.  She was just misdiagnosed.”  I remember feeling relieved and irked at the same time.  He said it in a tone that was so calm and nonchalant, as if he was getting the check for a coffee. I guess we, the patients and family members always have doctors and hospitals built up so high in our minds, that we forget they are just doing their job every day.  There’s a reason they usually will always have a calm demeanor. I get it now. 

I remember it being an overall good visit and I was glad my husband and I came along.  The three of us wanted to take a peek at mom’s scan when the doctor asked if anyone wanted to take a look. Mom didn’t want to see it. We then learned that those cancerous cells were all over her liver.  It looked like a leopard’s stomach.  The Doctor would then discuss the next steps in treatment which would be chemo once every other week and she’d get a port implanted the following week (on her 66^th birthday). We all left the meeting feeling semi-hopeful, mom felt really happy with the new doctor and my mom appeared positive. We then took my parents to a hole-in-the-wall, but delicious Italian restaurant which we’ve been telling my parents about for a long time.  It was a lovely night and I even think my mom enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner.

My mom started her first chemotherapy treatment on January 18^th, 2017.  The first seven months seemed like a piece of cake, compared to the rest of 2017.  I say this because thankfully, she didn’t have too many setbacks just yet.  She was just doing what the doctors asked of her and received her scheduled treatments.  She even worked at her part time job two-three days a week during this time.  She was living her life and doing her best every day, while going through something like this.  I remember feeling so proud of her. I’d say this was all happening up until around the end of August, early September. We really had a great summer.  Mom went to the beach at least twice, and one of those times it was a “girls” day.  My daughter, mom and I met my Aunt Kate, who lives twenty minutes from Ocean City for a fun beach day.  And when my mom still had decent shreds of energy, she would help me with my daughter if I needed it and even watch her at her house for a few hours.

Mom never lost all of her hair, but it had eventually gotten much thinner.  I even helped her pick out a wig at a wig shop one afternoon in March.  The name of the shop was called Wig-A-Do and I thought it was so adorable. She wasn’t losing much hair yet, but for it to be mostly covered by her insurance, I think she had to get it sooner than later. And in case you weren’t aware, wigs have names!  Yes, you read that right.  Each wig, at least at Wig-A-Do, had names. The owner was a lovely, sweet woman and was very helpful.  She brought out one wig that resembled mom’s hairstyle perfectly and mom loved it.  The best part was that this wig was named Dayna. I remember saying to the owner, “that’s my name!”  Minus the Y.  How fitting. I then took my mom out to dinner at a nearby Italian spot.  We both ordered a cup of pasta Fagioli and then split a huge turkey wrap.  I remember this was typical whenever I went out to eat with my mom.  She was never really into eating large portions and neither was I, so we would always split something.  We both ate our own bags of chips though, because duh.