#16: My Mom is Dying From Cancer, But She is Living With Unspeakable Joy

Some thoughts on saying goodbye to my mom ...

A quick update - on the personal side!

July 2023

“I have some news to share with you, Kelley. I have breast cancer.”

My husband and I were driving home from an appointment when we received a call from my mom. We still had about an hour on the road and we were enjoying the early summer sun and all that comes with that.

It was a beautiful drive …. until it wasn’t.

My mom had just come home from her biopsy appointment earlier that morning.

I was in total shock.

Mom continued …

“They will know more in about 2 weeks after all of the tests are in, but the doctor did confirm that, based on his extensive experience, the tumors are malignant. He didn’t want me getting my hopes up and thinking that this was going to be a ‘nothing burger’.”

I was gut punched … all of this was coming over blue tooth while Chris was driving and I hunched over in the passenger’s seat.

A few days later …. before the PET scan and MRI …

Mom calls again.

The cancer has spread. My lymph nodes are a mess. He says I have about a year if it goes untreated. But I still have the PET scan and MRI, which will tell us more.

Mom did the PET scan, but couldn’t handle the MRI - it put too much pressure on her diaphragm and she couldn’t breathe. They would have to finalize the diagnosis without it.

Two weeks later… diagnosis day …

September 12, 2023

Mom texted me:

The news is not good. I have Stage 4 cancer and it is now showing up in my lungs. It’s chemo/radiation and antibodies or do nothing. GOD’S PEACE is great in me. There is no ultimate cure. Will make my decision as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’m on pills, hormone blockers, until I decide. We will talk soon. Right now I just want to be silent before the LORD. Sipping on a large Starbucks Hot Chocolate, my drug of choice. I’m well! Love you!!!!

It was a death sentence. I’d just learned that my mom is dying of cancer and that she isn’t going to get any better.

Naturally, I was shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad.

A few days later ….

I was still shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad.

But I was also at peace.

I am still shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad.

And I am still at peace.

I am at peace because my mom is at peace.

My siblings are at peace because my mom is at peace.

A Story of Peace

I’ve read many heartbreaking, soul crushing, horrendous stories of cancer. But my mom’s isn’t one of those (at least not entirely).

Why my mom is at peace is the more interesting story than her cancer. Truth be told, I am living the story of her peace, of her joy, more than the story of her cancer. It’s all very surreal and I feel a bit like a whirling dervish, but I’m going with it.

Enter Hospice

Mom has entered hospice care.

I used to think that those on hospice were at death’s door and were hardly functioning. That was certainly the case with my dad - he was in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases when he came to the end. But, that’s certainly not the case with mom.

My mom looks amazing.

She’s a few weeks from 85, still pulls herself together everyday (she’s always been this way - even while raising four crazy kids), and does what she can in a given day. I wanted to include a pic of her, by she didn’t like any of them, so you’ll just have to take my word for it!

Sometimes I forget that mom is in her final act, as she’s been largely asymptomatic, until now. The disease, an aggressive form of HER2+ breast cancer, has colonized her lymph nodes, lungs, and is now in her bones. She qualified for hospice care because she’s not expected to live more than six months.

Mom has discontinued the hormone pills, and has declined any and all further treatment, save palliative care when the time comes for pain relief.

To be clear, she is living with cancer, and will ultimately die from cancer, not the treatment for cancer. There will be no side effects from treatments that won’t cure her, there will only be living, until there isn’t.

She is MORE than ready to be in Heaven with the Lord.

A Gentle Passing

While home, I was present for her checkup with the hospice nurse. We talked a lot about what to expect over the coming months. Mom will slowly lose her energy, have labored breathing, and need to rest more and more. This process is well underway. She gets bursts of energy and takes advantage of them, which always includes a stop at Starbucks for a hot chocolate and blueberry muffin, then needs a recovery day, or two, or three.

The nurse does not believe she will experience much pain through this final phase of her cancer journey. She will simply rest and sleep for progressively longer periods of time, until one day, she will gently pass on and be home with Jesus Christ.

The grace that God is extending to her, and her children, through this extremely painful process is unfathomable to me. But it is this grace, and this grace alone, that gives my mom a peace that truly passes all understanding, and it is His life in her, and only His life in her, that gives her an unspeakable joy.

Unexpectedly, this peace and this joy has been extended beyond my mom, it has been extended to me as well. It is this peace and this joy that has created a trusted space for me to have a deep and meaningful friendship with my mom in her final days.

She and I had a handful (well, a lot of handfuls) of rough patches over the years, but this new season has given us a path for deep honest conversation, heart-level healing, and full reconciliation of the past with the present.

I realize that if you aren’t a Bible believing Christian, all of this may sound crazy. I used to think she was a lunatic for being so “ready to die” and to be “with Jesus” and, to make matters worse, for being very vocal about it. But, I’m now a co-lunatic with her! More on all of this another time.

When mom passes, there will no open loops, no unsaid words, and no regret over unresolved issues. I will mourn the loss not just of my mom, but also my friend, my teacher, and my confidant. I will mourn the one who, having raised me, knows me better than anyone else.

So, while mom’s Earthly story, her temporal story, is ending, mine, in many ways, is just beginning.

And, this is the story I will share, as best I can, when I am ready.

Always Talk From the Scar, Not the Wound

It’s hard to tell a story while you’re living it.

You’re inside the jar, so you can’t see things objectively and no one has a clue how to process your ever-changing feelings. You’re bound up in a bundle of emotions that - at some point - hurled you into a 24/7 spin cycle you fear may never end.

It’s gory, gross, and ugly.

It’s the messy middle.

Fortunately, every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

As for now, I’m in the icky, yucky, messy middle right now and I’m feeling pretty raw and beat up.

My defenses are down, and my heart is broken into a thousand pieces.

It feels like it’s sprawled all over the place, just like the contents of my purse after my weekly dump on the kitchen table. It feels like all of my inner secrets are on full display and available for judgment and ridicule.

It feels terrifyingly vulnerable.

So, this is a season for circling the wagons and honoring the purity of the time my mom and I have left.

As the wounds heal, and the scars create a protective layer, I will have more to say. For then, and only then, will I have a full story to tell.

I am still shocked. devastated. crushed. exhausted. sad. But I am also calm. quiet. assured. peaceful. and content.

But don’t confuse joy or contentment with happiness …

To be continued ….

—

Meanwhile, our nation is experiencing a “systemic collapse,” and it needs a fresh infusion of “systemic truth.”

Back soon with a “fresh infusion of truth” … and eventually, a finale to my little #MeToo series.

Thanks for your patience as I find my way through an unfamiliar maze of grief, loss, and a new kind of love.

xo,

Kelley

September 28, 2023