This is my Mom, Gwen. I took several pictures of her, including this one, while I was home visiting her back in the spring. Almost a year ago she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Before pancreatic cancer made its way into the celebrity news, my Dad died of it – that was 2005. The fear and despair Mom and I both felt when she was diagnosed with the same disease were like uninvited guests who show up while you’re still in your pajamas. Not being one to wallow in self pity though, Mom quickly commented that she “had too much to do” to be sick.
Following a successful Whipple procedure to remove the cancer from Mom’s pancreas, a PET scan revealed a new tumor on her liver. This was disappointing news as no such tumor had been present just a dozen weeks before. To date she has been through two separate rounds of chemotherapy that have had minimal effect – perhaps just enough to keep the cancer from spreading beyond her liver; although, it continues to grow there.
Mom has continued to be very active with her family, friends and in her church. And when asked after the most recent scan whether she wanted to continue treatment, her answer was a definitive, “Yes!” We hope to learn later this week what the next step in treatment will be. She’s made it clear she’s not interested in any trials that would take her away from home. I fully support this position. From what I’ve observed, Mom is happier at home living her life rather than living her cancer.
I won’t lie and try to tell you that my heart isn’t breaking. That it doesn’t break just a little more with every strong yet graceful act of bravery I see her make. Things like making plans to take our yearly trip together again next June. I know that making plans keeps her going, the simple assumption that she, not the cancer, will decide what she gets to do. I know from experience that it’s difficult to stand up for yourself with physicians, and I’ve seen her do it over and over – asking questions and making her own choices, advocating for what feels right for her. It makes me proud to see her navigate all that she has to deal with and to see her continue to trust her own judgement.
Six years ago my Dad taught me how to die. And now my Mom is teaching me how to live. I’m grateful for the time we have together. I’m grateful that after forty years she still is my Mom and still has things to teach me about life. I’m grateful that I am so loved.
Erin, I’m so sorry – I had no idea the cancer had reappeared after the Whipple procedure. This post is beautiful, and your last paragraph is exquisite. Hugs to both of you!
Erin,
Your mother was one of the best teachers I ever had. She is a strong, beautiful person inside and out. I am so very sorry your family is going through this. Your post about your mom are so beautiful. I pray that God holds you all close in this difficult time. Please give her a hug from me and all of her past students. She has had such an amazing impact on all of our lives.
Erin, I am so sorry to hear this. You undoubtedly do not remember me; I babysat for you a few times when you. I haven’t seen your mother since you were a very young girl and I worked with your Dad at Ohio State (where I was a doctoral student). But, she has always occupied a corner of my heart–first occupied over coffee in your family’s kitchen. Know that all of you are held in the Light as you traverse this challenging path.
Shirley Scritchfield
Erin,
I hope that we can reach you via this site to share our most sincere sympathies. I didn’t know that your Mom was ill and was so very sorry to learn of her death from some Lubbock friends. She was one of the very good people one meets too seldom in this life. She and your father were always very kind to us during our days in Lubbock.
You and your family are in our thoughts and prayers.
Marietta and Jeff Gamso