Tackling the Mountain

It's not that the height of the mountain changes, it's that our belief in the capacity we have increases.  Last night we spent the closing hours of the day uncorking some of the anxieties that the word cancer entails.  I mean what do you think of when you hear cancer right? A battle, a fight, a struggle, the worst, a mother, a brother, a friend, or a daughter.  Mom's always been a champion and taking on cancer is no exception.  It doesn't mean that she's not afraid of what could happen or how different her life will be over the next four months (or a lifetime), but it means that she never questioned about going forward to take care of the Lymphoma inside of her.  Today came, the base of the mountain arrived and away we went.

Armed with a dear friend (or daughter as the doctor guessed, props to mom for tricking the doctor into thinking she had such a young daughter)  and me, we went with mom to get the party started.  Doc spoke music to Mom's ears, "not in the Bone Marrow, not in the Organs, and mostly concentrated to the belly (although she did a pretty good number in the belly)."  This was one of the bigger fears that the cancer was actually worse than projected.  It's hard to describe the relief mom felt but a quite optimism filled her.  She remembered to breath, she smiled just a little bit, and then she started up the mountain. 

We moved to the chemo room filled with people of all shapes and sizes.  Many were quietly resting with their eyes pressed shut.  Another woman in a bright yellow exercise suit was writing cards.  Another woman, the companion to one of the other patients, spotted us as rookies and quickly helped us set up shop around the chair mom would spend her morning sipping on benadryl, a couple of anti-nausea meds, and a start in to the retuxan.  Kerstin and I staid until noon when Caiti, Grandma, and Grandpa showed up in full force (5 people around mom really made us look like the newbies).  G&G staid until Grandpa decided it was time to go pick up some of the many sticks that were around his front yard, Brad provided much appreciatd reinforcment and made her exercise after the long day, and Caiti brought home the victor.  

It's not that mom was the victor because she beat cancer, but because she saw inside of her an enhanced ability to tackle the mountain the lies ahead.  That's not to say she's a totally different person.  Trust me, there is no other person that benadryl works so well on.  But as the doctor said, we're "excitedly optimistic" about the prospects of mom responding well to treatment.  What we are perhaps as excited about is the part where mom, and us with her, come to see ourselves as more capable to tackle the mountains that life will bring.  Here's to one day at a time.