My mother-in-law has quite the cancer record. Twelve years ago she was diagnosed with agressive naso-pharyngeal carcinoma. She did heavy duty chemo and radiation and went into remission. In the U.S., 3600 people a year get nasopharyngeal cancer, and it comprises one percent of head and neck cancers.
A year ago she had gallbladder cancer. Only 1000 Americans get this kind of cancer every year. It was totally unrelated to her previous bout of cancer. She appears to have beaten that cancer as well.
Now she has another tumor in her sinuses (naso-pharyngeal again). But this time it is a a sarcoma, almost certainly caused by the radiation that she received a dozen years ago. only 5% of cancer patients will actually have a recurrence of cancer due to their radiation treatments.
From the Cancer Care Alliance:
"Sarcomas are rare (only about 1 percent of all cancer cases annually), and they can be difficult to diagnose. The best place to go for diagnosis and treatment of these rare cancers is an academic medical center where our doctors provide the most up-to-date treatments to hundreds of people with sarcoma every year.
'We see people who are diagnostic challenges,' says Dr. Conrad, director of SCCA's Sarcoma Service."
That's my mother-in-law, the chronic diagnostic challenge.
All this just validates my opinion that statistics are strictly for doctors and insurance companies. Despite odds that seem overwhelming for or against one individual, when it happens to you, it's 100%. The numbers are just averages, and mean nothing, absolutely nothing, to the individual.
Unfortunately for my mother-in-law, this sarcoma has about a 99.9% of killing her. It is an incredibly fast growing cancer that has completely blocked her nasal passages and is spreading out it's killer tentacles with the abandon of a noxious weed. It's took a month to nail down a diagnoses and half the doctors have said, in so many words, "go home and make yourself comfortable, because it won't be long now."
A couple of other doctors have been more proactive, and pushed for treatment. Chemo is usually ineffective against sarcomas, so the more common treatment is radiation and surgery. My mother-in-law's tumor is inoperable due to it's proximity to the brain, and she cannot receive radiation because she already received her maximum radiation with her previous head and neck cancer. However, there is a brand new treatment, called a Cyber Knife (which, interestingly is radio-wave based), that is so precise it would not touch her surrounding tissue, only the tumor. Her radiologist here is pushing for using it, but the only operable machine is in Colorado, and the doctors there would need to agree to do it. On Friday, the Colorado doctor called and said he had concerns about doing the treatment. Again, in so many words, he expressed that he felt that the treatment would not be helpful. It would not do any good. It is her only option.
While we knew the treatment would probably not cure her, we thought it might give us more time. More time with her. and also more time to explore other options, and work with naturopathic doctors that might help slow the cancer. While I understand the position of the doctor in Colorado, he doesn't realize he is taking away all hope. And lack of hope will kill her that much faster.
As it is, my mother-in-law has recently turned to morphine for her pain. This from a woman who never has more than a half a glass of champagne, and who can't take codeine because it makes her nauseated. This woman is a martyr, if she is taking morphine she is in excruciating, take your breath away pain. She can hardly swallow, and breathing is an effort. She is in misery.
When my husband saw the most recent MRI, he described it as a "tumor the size of Texas" growing in her head.
So now, intermixed with discussions about doctors, and treatments and trying to get in to yet someone else, we are having talks about death. Immediate, in your face talks about what will happen next. What will happen to my father-in-law, who, although he is only 69 and in great health, cannot make a long distance phone call, because his wife does it for him. He doesn't pay the bills, or make anything more sophisticated than coffee. He has led a coddled life. We need a Do Not Resuscitate Directive. We need to buy a burial plot. You would think some of this would have been done before. But my in-laws like to live in denial, and frankly, up to now, it has worked for them.
Do you take your six your old to a funeral? We have determined yes, but explain the situation thoroughly before you go. How do you keep the memory of the favorite grandparent alive? Do we have the right recipe for her world renowned pie? How will we deal with the loss of a mother's unconditional love? How do we keep her close?
My mother-in-law takes care of people. That is her whole life; repressing her own needs for those of others. She cannot bear to stop taking care of people. My husband and I have both let her know that we will take care of the people she leaves behind. We will. And perhaps in that way we will get through this.
I'm sorry to hear about your mother-in-law's illness. I'm sorry modern medicine can't offer much in terms of a cure, or even relief for that matter. I hope you can make the best of the time you have left together.
Posted by: Lut C. | January 15, 2006 at 01:29 PM
there are just no words.
i am so sorry.
Posted by: Julianna | January 15, 2006 at 04:50 PM
Fuck cancer and the horse it rode in on.........
I am so sorry, I hope you all find the strength you need to carry you through this time.
Posted by: labia lady | January 15, 2006 at 05:26 PM
My heart goes out to you and your family Pat. Take care.
Posted by: Lala | January 15, 2006 at 06:23 PM
I am so sorry.
I hope the doctor in Colorado has been convinced to reconsider.
But meanwhile, I am just so sorry.
Posted by: Jody | January 16, 2006 at 09:55 AM
You are so right about statistics, when its you, its 100%. Lean on us during this difficult time.
Posted by: Donna | January 16, 2006 at 11:48 AM
I am so sad for you and your loved ones.
Posted by: My Ming Mei | January 16, 2006 at 03:48 PM
I'm so sorry. Cancer truly is an evil disease.
Posted by: selzach | January 17, 2006 at 08:07 AM
I am so sorry. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Posted by: Julie | January 17, 2006 at 09:50 AM
Oh god, Patricia. I'm so sorry.
I'm thinking of you and the whole family.
xxoo
Posted by: Anna H. | January 17, 2006 at 11:45 AM
What can I say? 'I'm sorry' just sounds so banal, and yet...I'm so damned sorry.
Posted by: Orodemniades | January 17, 2006 at 01:35 PM
Oh g-d, Patricia. I hated reading this as it wretched into my heart. The hopelessness, the feelings of not being able to help her is unbearable. I'm very sorry.
Ashley
Posted by: Ashley | January 17, 2006 at 03:20 PM
I'm so sorry Patricia. Your family is in my thoughts and prayers.
Posted by: Emily | January 18, 2006 at 09:19 PM
Bless her. I'm so terribly sorry for your family's loss. You're in my thoughts.
bcc
Posted by: bcc | January 20, 2006 at 08:42 PM
Oh my...I am sorry. Amazing she has made it this far and terrible how she must be so uncomfortable and in pain.
I remember when my Grandma died of gallbladder cancer....I was so close to her. When I found out I cried and cried. I did go to the funeral and am so glad that my parents took me. I saw her there as a small child knowing she was somewhere else...I knew someplace peaceful because she looked peaceful. Death became an ordinary yet extrodinary event that shapes what we call life. Her memory has stayed alive because she made an impression on me. When I have a cocktail I am reminded of our cocktail hour we shared. Her with a normal one and me with mmy koolaid/lemonade/cherry mmixture :)
Somedays when she seems the farthest away from me I will see a woman who looks like her and always she wears the same perfume. The memories assert themselves as permanet residents. I could not forget her even if I wanted to because of who she was.
Sorry to ramble. I know your questions were more rhetorical but basically what I am saying is that I can only imagine the imprint she has made on your lives and your child. I wish memories were more than they are...fleeting grasps of the past. I would rather have her here to hug and to know now so please just get the hugs in and enjoy her. Thinking of you and your family.
Posted by: Alex/Infertile Gourmet | January 22, 2006 at 09:22 PM
Just web jumping at lunch when I saw this post. I certainly feel for you and your family but it sounds like there is a great deal of grace to be thankful for around your MIL.
I work in hospice and I would highly recomend looking into a document called "The Five Wishes" which allows a patient and family to have guided discussions about what your MIL might want as time passes {everything from if she would prefer to be more awake and in pain or in less pain and asleep to what kind of music she would like to have around her when she is more stationary}.
I wish you genuine shared laughter in the days ahead.
Posted by: Heather | January 24, 2006 at 11:09 AM
Honesty, integrity and a persuasive mentality are the most important qualities of an elected official
Posted by: lan | September 25, 2007 at 04:56 AM