I'll tell you, the Universe must be on our side.
    Mom's recovering from her fall with her usual speed and elan. There's a detailed, up to the minute report here at the movement journal, if you're interested. She went in for an early nap, of course. The Hospice RN noticed that she was beginning to look like she'd nod off toward the end of his visit. He took vitals and everything looked good. He noted that she was a little "clammy". She was clammy last night, as well, probably from the shock. Otherwise, as he questioned her, and me, about the fall (which she clearly remembered) he noted that she is "feisty" today. She is. This is her typical reaction to illness and injury that gets in her way. Her version of the fall was jaunty, as usual, a sort of "I may be down, but don't make the mistake of counting me out" retelling. As I type that I'm shaking my head and grinning. No wonder, I'm thinking. No wonder.
    It'll be a laid back day. I'm not worried about keeping her dosed with acetaminophen. If it affects her hemoglobin, medical care is near. Her vitals are good, though. I'm expecting she'll probably sleep more than usual over the next 48 hours, at least. That's fine. I except that this will help her heal. The Little Girl (one of our cats) remains close to her side, especially in sleep.
   The Hospice RN mentioned that this might be a good time to consider a baby monitor. I agree. I'll pick one up tomorrow morning before Mom gets up. Today, I feel better staying close to home at all times, just in case.

    All of this reminds me: Last week, when I was shopping for the Champagne Kick Off Dinner, at the deli counter where I selected the meats and cheeses, the server commented on my odd orders (two slices of each choice cut slightly thicker than they're "sandwich cut") and asked the purpose. I told her about the reintroduction of alcohol into my mother's diet and caught her up (she knows me by sight as a regular customer) on my mother, the lung cancer, Hospice assignment, etc. She had a lung cancer story in her family (everyone seems to have one) that she related. As usual, it was a fast, overwhelming, horrible experience, very much the "ugly death" about which the rehab facility doctor warned me. This story featured a tumor that metastasized quickly and visibly, growing up the man's back, wrapping around the esophageal and bronchial tubes and, essentially, strangling and starving the woman's father-in-law. Of all the accounts I've heard over the last three months, only one has had benign elements but still included significant disability. This was the account of my friend's sister's lung cancer: The chemotherapy and radiation for which she opted so debilitated her than her quality of life was significantly decreased for the rest of her life (she died recently). As well, the brain metastasis paralyzed her right side. She did not, however, experience any cancer related pain and died "in peace"; physical peace, at least.
    I've been wondering, since the last lung cancer story I heard at the deli, if there are any other "easy", "good" stories of lung cancer, other than my mother's (so far, anyway). I meant to run this by the Hospice RN today but he was backed up in his appointments so I figured I'd wait until next week. Believe me, I am aware that things could change and my mother may very well experience some of the horrors considered lung cancer constants. In the meantime, despite the indications that she is, indeed, declining, to all outward appearances, she continues to beat lung cancer to its punches. I have no idea why. I am curious, though, if the gentler stories of cancer decline and death, if they exist (and, surely, they must, as my mother's appears to be one such story), are drowned by the horror of our reaction to the very word "cancer". As Susan Sontag has noted in Illness as Metaphor (a problematic series of essays, then a book, which I am not recommending but which springs to mind as I write this), cancer is not just a disease, it is (still, even after 30+ years) a powerful, metaphorical critique often level against large, powerful countries (especially the USA) and large, powerful social movements. Compare this with "pneumonia", the deadly appearance of which is often characterized as "a friend to the elderly", especially those who are terminally ill with cancer, as it was used in reference to my mother. We know that death experiences can be easy as well as hard. It isn't that "easy" deaths aren't ever discussed. It's that I have yet to hear anyone discuss an "easy" death as a result of cancer...any kind of cancer. Does cancer always predestine a "hard", "ugly" death? Or is it that, when the word "cancer" comes into play, those are the only deaths we acknowledge?
    This isn't a protest, mind you, just curiosity. I guess I am about to find out if Death is always a nasty bully when it takes a cancerous form.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 18:46   email  this post