Finding Our Feet
I have zero medical experience. I have never been chronically ill. I have known people who were ill, but no-one very close to me has experienced serious illness. I guess in this way, I have been lucky to not have had to experience the pain associted with seeing a loved one hurting.
The first time the 'C' word was mentioned, my heart stopped.
How could this be happening to my mother. This wasn't a stranger whose post I was reading on FaceBook. This was my mother. The only woman in the world who had known me since birth and the woman who had put up with all my crap, who had always been a shoulder for me to cry on, and who had always been there when I needed her the most.
It was my uncle who had said to me on the phone that I needed to make some decisions about my moms health. Me? Why me? Because I am the oldest of 3 children to my mother. That is just how it goes.
Our first week in South Africa was a world wind. Thank goodness for my uncle and aunt accommodating us on their farm, and my cousin and her boyfriend moving out of their cottage for us to stay in.
My sister, myself and her two children set ourselves up pretty quickly, and within days had met with my mothers doctor, and spoken to countless other people about my moms condition.
I had no idea what to expect. Were we talking about chemotherapy and radiation? Did she need to have surgery? What were our options?
After speaking with my moms doctor, we knew a bit more. My mom more than likely had stage 4 cancer. How did the doctor know? Well, most liver cancers are secondary, which means that the cancer had not started in her liver. And all signs were pointing to the xray of my mothers lungs, which showed an abnormality.
Even as the doctor was telling me this, I felt clinical. My questions were all very matter of fact. It still felt as though this was not real. Like I was on a research project that didn't affect me personally.
I asked more questions than I can remember, but a few of them really made me realise that this was serious.
Now, remember we are in South Africa here. When I asked the doctor about my moms smoking, and whether she should stop smoking, his answer was, "if she wants to smoke, let her smoke." He said it as if smoking was the most natural thing to do. I didn't realise it at the time, but I think what he meant was, that there is no point trying to quit, because her survival chances are low.
The shock on my face must have been evident, but I didn't say anything. When this news was relayed to my mom, she herself seemed a bit relieved. I mean, why would she want to give up the vice that seemed to calm her nerves?
It was about this time that I started to rely on my good friend and doctor in Australia, Nijole Lloyd. She answered every question I posed to her with such love and compassion, and helped me and my sister work through the myriad of options we had.
And gosh, are their options out there!
One of the options that my sister and I knew we had to explore in great detail was the alternative route. Another doctor we had spoken to at the Baragwanath Hospital (another blog on this one!), had said that my mom seemed too frail to undergo chemo or radiation. This was a relief to both my sister and I. Not the frail part... we knew that, but that someone else had said to us that those options were more than likely not suitable for my mom.
Even although I KNOW in my heart that the alternative route is more successful, I did not want to make that call. I was glad it was a doctor.
So, Kim and I began our search for all of the most organic, healthy foods we could. We started cooking every single meal for my mom, making it the healthiest we could.
Landing in a new (old) country, we had no idea where to start. It was like we had just both immigrated back home, with zero knowledge on where to find what, who to connect to, what path to follow, and more importantly, discovering what it was that my mom really wanted and needed.
So, the journey began of finding our feet, learning about this disease, and being an advocate for my moms health.
PS: If you would like to donate towards Stephanie's Courageous Fight, please click here.
The first time the 'C' word was mentioned, my heart stopped.
How could this be happening to my mother. This wasn't a stranger whose post I was reading on FaceBook. This was my mother. The only woman in the world who had known me since birth and the woman who had put up with all my crap, who had always been a shoulder for me to cry on, and who had always been there when I needed her the most.
It was my uncle who had said to me on the phone that I needed to make some decisions about my moms health. Me? Why me? Because I am the oldest of 3 children to my mother. That is just how it goes.
Our first week in South Africa was a world wind. Thank goodness for my uncle and aunt accommodating us on their farm, and my cousin and her boyfriend moving out of their cottage for us to stay in.
My sister, myself and her two children set ourselves up pretty quickly, and within days had met with my mothers doctor, and spoken to countless other people about my moms condition.
I had no idea what to expect. Were we talking about chemotherapy and radiation? Did she need to have surgery? What were our options?
After speaking with my moms doctor, we knew a bit more. My mom more than likely had stage 4 cancer. How did the doctor know? Well, most liver cancers are secondary, which means that the cancer had not started in her liver. And all signs were pointing to the xray of my mothers lungs, which showed an abnormality.
Even as the doctor was telling me this, I felt clinical. My questions were all very matter of fact. It still felt as though this was not real. Like I was on a research project that didn't affect me personally.
I asked more questions than I can remember, but a few of them really made me realise that this was serious.
Now, remember we are in South Africa here. When I asked the doctor about my moms smoking, and whether she should stop smoking, his answer was, "if she wants to smoke, let her smoke." He said it as if smoking was the most natural thing to do. I didn't realise it at the time, but I think what he meant was, that there is no point trying to quit, because her survival chances are low.
The shock on my face must have been evident, but I didn't say anything. When this news was relayed to my mom, she herself seemed a bit relieved. I mean, why would she want to give up the vice that seemed to calm her nerves?
It was about this time that I started to rely on my good friend and doctor in Australia, Nijole Lloyd. She answered every question I posed to her with such love and compassion, and helped me and my sister work through the myriad of options we had.
And gosh, are their options out there!
One of the options that my sister and I knew we had to explore in great detail was the alternative route. Another doctor we had spoken to at the Baragwanath Hospital (another blog on this one!), had said that my mom seemed too frail to undergo chemo or radiation. This was a relief to both my sister and I. Not the frail part... we knew that, but that someone else had said to us that those options were more than likely not suitable for my mom.
Even although I KNOW in my heart that the alternative route is more successful, I did not want to make that call. I was glad it was a doctor.
So, Kim and I began our search for all of the most organic, healthy foods we could. We started cooking every single meal for my mom, making it the healthiest we could.
Landing in a new (old) country, we had no idea where to start. It was like we had just both immigrated back home, with zero knowledge on where to find what, who to connect to, what path to follow, and more importantly, discovering what it was that my mom really wanted and needed.
So, the journey began of finding our feet, learning about this disease, and being an advocate for my moms health.
PS: If you would like to donate towards Stephanie's Courageous Fight, please click here.
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