A Diagnosis
My mother, soon to be 83, was remarkably healthy. She never had high blood pressure, diabetes, heart problems, or anything else I could possible name. She was thin, ate extremely healthy food, didn't drink except for a wine once every 6 months. Recently, spinal pain, from a fall years ago and a surgery, were progressing and evetually became unbearable.
Therapy, injections and a non-invasive back surgery seemed to only make things worse. Day by day, the pain level intensified. We ended up in the emergency room after several nights of screaming and crying. A strong dose of morphine finally eased some of the pain and I could see my mom's face release most of the horrific tension that plagued her for too long. A CT scan, an MRI and x-rays would hopefully reveal some the problematic pain producer in her back which a steady handed spinal surgeon could finally fix and return my mom to her normal life.
After the testing, they moved us up to the fourth floor. A regular does of morphine through the IV kept my mom pretty much out of pain. She was ok. Every word out her mouth was no longer about pain. She was laughing and joking. She was looking forward to the doctor fixing her back, a quick rehab and then getting back to life.
After a few says on the 4th floor, I was pulled aside by a doctor. I never saw him before; he informed me that my mother had stage 4 lung cancer and that it had spread to the spine. He said it "metastasized."
I now looked at his coat. It read oncology. Ah, a cancer doctor. His nurse, Nicole, her badge also read oncology. I had spoken to her many times. Actually, she was the head nurse on the floor with her own office. I started looking around. It wasn't obvious to me before. The plaque on her office door read "director of oncology." I had never gone to her office before, but I passed it every day. On the wall, there was something about cancer. Cancer was blaring in your face, but it was there. I never noticed.
I asked nurse Nicole, "Is this the oncology floor?"
She said it was. I asked, "You guys put my mom up here 3 days ago. Did you know she had cancer 3 days ago?" She said they suspected it. They didn't want to scared us, in the event it wasn't cancer.
Later that day as I was leaving my mom on the 4th floor, I entered the elevator with two older guys, in their mid-60's. They were somber. I asked if they were there for a family member or friend. They told me they were there for their older brother who was just admitted. He was in a lot of pain and they couldn't figure out why.
He was taken to the 4th floor. I knew why. I said, "good luck, I wish you guys and your brother the best."
vincentpravato.com
My mother, soon to be 83, was remarkably healthy. She never had high blood pressure, diabetes, heart problems, or anything else I could possible name. She was thin, ate extremely healthy food, didn't drink except for a wine once every 6 months. Recently, spinal pain, from a fall years ago and a surgery, were progressing and evetually became unbearable.
Therapy, injections and a non-invasive back surgery seemed to only make things worse. Day by day, the pain level intensified. We ended up in the emergency room after several nights of screaming and crying. A strong dose of morphine finally eased some of the pain and I could see my mom's face release most of the horrific tension that plagued her for too long. A CT scan, an MRI and x-rays would hopefully reveal some the problematic pain producer in her back which a steady handed spinal surgeon could finally fix and return my mom to her normal life.
After the testing, they moved us up to the fourth floor. A regular does of morphine through the IV kept my mom pretty much out of pain. She was ok. Every word out her mouth was no longer about pain. She was laughing and joking. She was looking forward to the doctor fixing her back, a quick rehab and then getting back to life.
After a few says on the 4th floor, I was pulled aside by a doctor. I never saw him before; he informed me that my mother had stage 4 lung cancer and that it had spread to the spine. He said it "metastasized."
I now looked at his coat. It read oncology. Ah, a cancer doctor. His nurse, Nicole, her badge also read oncology. I had spoken to her many times. Actually, she was the head nurse on the floor with her own office. I started looking around. It wasn't obvious to me before. The plaque on her office door read "director of oncology." I had never gone to her office before, but I passed it every day. On the wall, there was something about cancer. Cancer was blaring in your face, but it was there. I never noticed.
I asked nurse Nicole, "Is this the oncology floor?"
She said it was. I asked, "You guys put my mom up here 3 days ago. Did you know she had cancer 3 days ago?" She said they suspected it. They didn't want to scared us, in the event it wasn't cancer.
Later that day as I was leaving my mom on the 4th floor, I entered the elevator with two older guys, in their mid-60's. They were somber. I asked if they were there for a family member or friend. They told me they were there for their older brother who was just admitted. He was in a lot of pain and they couldn't figure out why.
He was taken to the 4th floor. I knew why. I said, "good luck, I wish you guys and your brother the best."
vincentpravato.com
I danced with your mother at your wedding. She's my favorite dancing partner. In one way or another, we're all on the way to the 4th Floor, where you know the news before you get the news, but holding out hope is like gallows humor, just another way we cope. Thanks for sharing this.
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