The Monster Within

It's easy to forget how sick she really is.

The doctors predicted remission following radiation therapy. It didn't happen. We got another burst of hope when the docs said the tumor was shrinking because of the chemo. That, too, was short lived. Sometimes it gets bigger, sometimes smaller, but it's not going away.

She doesn't look sick. Her doctor has often commented on this fact. She hasn't experienced huge weight loss, her hair is growing back after the radiation treatments, it's even regaining some (not all) of it's auburn color. Because of that it's easy to ignore it.

But the signs are there, if you look. She doesn't have the energy she once had, particularly in the week following chemo. That happens every three weeks. I saw her wincing in pain last week, and when I asked she admitted that her lung was hurting. I know that happens more times than she will admit.

Where once she would get up and be active all day while I slept, she now moves out to the couch and naps most of the day away. Because I work nights I don't see it much, but if I wake up and come out of the bedroom I see her there more and more often.

Our daughter works as a pharmacy tech, so she usually handles her mother's prescription. She was aghast when she filled the last one because of it's narcotic content.

She started out only taking a half a pill of her old prescription when she was having trouble sleeping. She started having trouble sleeping more often. Now she is taking a half a pill of the new prescription. At first the new prescription was only necessary once or twice a week. This, too, is happening more often. How often I can't say since I work nights, but I know it happens at least 2 or 3 times a week.

Daughter is worried that Mother is going to become addicted. Mother points out jokingly that it won't be a permanent condition. Daughter and I fail to see the humor.

She was diagnosed two years ago in December. She has determined that she will hold out for another eight.

I am selfish enough to want her to stay as long as possible, but not so selfish that I want her to stay in pain. I am torn between these two desires, but in the end it will hurt worse to see her in pain than it will to lose her.

The Navy has a phrase, hope for the best but plan for the worst. I guess that's all I can do.