Turbo Cancer: Day 98 - September 17, 2022
Was It Worth It?
On this day, last year, my mom wrote:
Chemo yesterday. She wants to go until December! Maybe a break here and there.
Is it worth it?
Bad night. Up all night in bathroom. Lost not one ounce. Pain in blowhole severe. Took oxy every 4 hours. Lots of nausea. Probable fever - sweats: cold, hot. Fan: off, on. Worst day of chemo so far.
Fell apart in front of John. So grateful for him. He sat with me on bed for a while and cheered me up (Wahlbergs).
Better today. Hope it continues. I should push for outside walk.
Was chemo worth it?
Everything moved so quickly with my mom’s disease. We hadn’t had an opportunity to pause, and ask that question.
We didn’t know how long my mom would live without chemo. It was assumed, based on the doctors’ test results, that treatment was prolonging my mom’s life, but there was no way of knowing.
Doctors and test results had proven themselves to be untrustworthy.
We could only know what we had experienced. What might have happened, had we chosen differently, was left to the imagination.
All of the results implied that the chemo was working. The tumors were shrinking and the numbers were going down.
My mom’s condition, however, was telling a different story.
The lump in her groin, which was the original complaint, was worse than ever. It kept growing, bigger and bigger. As it grew, it became more and more painful.
The hole in her thigh continued to drain massive amounts of fluid. In addition to the groin pain, the hole, itself, had become excruciating.
It was as if my mom’s leg were a water balloon. It was so engorged with fluid that the skin was stretched, red and blistering.
She was very tired, but she never got any rest. The pain and the need to use the bathroom were keeping her up, day and night.
For my mom, chemo was never meant to be curative. The promise was that it would manage her pain and improve the quality of her life.
Was it working?
Was it worth it?
Selfishly, it was worth it to me because, as difficult as it was, I would not have given up one second of the last six months that I had with my mom.
Was it worth it to her?
I doubt it.
She suffered from both the disease and the treatment. Her pain was exacerbated by the effort required to take trips to the doctor. Many of the tests were invasive and, considering my mom’s condition, torturous.
What a dying person needs, more than anything, is compassion. In our medical system, compassion is rare.
For six months, my mom and I navigated hell together.
Still, as awful as these six months were, they were miraculous. There were times of absolute joy. There were moments of unimaginable beauty. There was an amazing sense of transcendence, and of closeness to God.
Was it worth it to my mom? I cannot answer that question. I can only decide what having this experience has meant for me.
Would chemo be worth it to me?
No.
Absolutely not.
What I learned, for myself, is this:
I have no idea what the future holds, including when, or how, I will die. I do know, however, that if I am to be diagnosed with a terminal disease, meaning that there is no cure, and I am subsequently offered pharmaceuticals and treatments to reduce my pain and to improve the quality of my life, I will refuse it.
I will seek out natural forms of pain relief and I will go home, to my house.
I will enjoy the time that I have left with my family. I will peacefully prepare for my journey.

"We could only know what we had experienced. What might have happened, had we chosen differently, was left to the imagination."
This is true no matter what decision you make in life. All we have is the moment we are in ❤️
Agree. No conventional treatment for me. If something else works, fine. Otherwise, let me go.
All the years of “What if?”s
What if we had said no? What if we had ignored the instructions? What if?
But that was only my own objection. Mom trusted the drs and thought she was supposed to do whatever they recommended. And she did.
By the time my brother was tortured to death by oncologists, I knew it didn’t matter. He would die by their hands. He and his wife also believed there was only one choice. She had already buried one husband after cancer treatment and never even considered the elephant in the room.
God forgive me for my thoughts