Cancer, Round 4217...or so

The day started with Emma running to my room and saying, "We're going to Cracker Barrel." That is one of my Mom and Dad's favorite places to go in the mornings when they're here visiting us. Mom and Dad and my family headed over there and during breakfast I kept fighting the urge to cry. Mom kept talking about her plans to cut her hair off since the chemo is causing it to fall out (again).

Mom was first diagnosed with cancer in 1997--breast cancer on the right side, stage IV. Doctors said she had a 2% chance of survival at that point. She had a radical mastectomy and lymph node removal. High-dose chemotherapy and a stem cell replacement was done, and following that, radiation. We decided to do reconstructive tram flap surgery and hope for the best. In 1999, however, cancer was found in the other breast and a mastectomy and lymph node removal had to be done. Mom had an implant done on this side for reconstruction since the tram flap wasn't as great as she'd been promised it would be. There were other countless reconstructive surgeries, scans, blood tests, and a lot more that I've forgotten and I'm sure she'd like to forget. For years now, cancer has been on the radar, but not really making any real threat to her life. It has finally settled in her bones--her hips, spine, and ribs--and it has been growing and giving Mom some pain. She tried radiation which worked somewhat, and then chemotherapy pills for a few months, but there is still evidence of cancer growth, so now she is back to intravenous chemotherapy. It's about three weeks into it now. On the way to Utah this past week, she had a "port" installed into her chest through which the chemicals are administered weekly.

Apparently three weeks was all her hair could stand, and it was coming out in handfuls this morning, so she decided today was the day. As a family we got together at my sister Janice's house, with cameras and video cameras and a new wig in tow, and cut Mom's hair. Starting with the youngest children, we each took our turn with the scissors and trimmed a handful of hair off--short. All the kids and grandchildren were there except Brad's family. I got the honor of trimming it up to make it look even before we had the "Ta Da!" moment, as Mom called it, and donned the wig, after most of the grandkids tried it on first.

Nearly ten years prior, I had also had the honor of cutting off all of Mom's hair before her first set of wigs were employed. Who would have known the last decade would be such a long road of hope and of heartbreak.

Photos can be seen here:

Cancer Sucks