My Now – 4/17/2020
My mom is 91. Last May she was diagnosed with rectal cancer. Tumor too large to operate, her only chance was eight weeks of chemo’s infinite wince. Yet, given her age, even chemo posed grave risk.
One week before chemo was to begin she was rushed to the hospital via ambulance with extreme stomach pains. Doctors discovered an obstructed colon. Emergency surgery needed to avoid the Banshee’s scream. One hour before the operation her surgeon decided to conduct a Hail Mary surgery and remove the cancerous tumor instead. Hyper-dangerous procedure. Especially for someone, who at the time, was 90.
Five hours later my mom was in ICU, cancer free. Her cancer was gone.
One week later she was in rehab.
A few months later she was driving on her own and visiting her local YMCA twice a week, pedaling a stationary bike with hopes of returning to her co-ed senior citizen rugby team.
Given her Everest-like health successes there’s no way she’ll lose to a virus born from someone in China having sex with a bat. My NOW is devoted, along with the help of my brother and sister, to keeping her virus-symptom free. Every afternoon I drive to her house, make her dinner, and spend the night.
As payback she shares her 91 year old perspectives. Some are dated, but most are spot-on, often enlightening, representing chandelier moments in these dark days of infinite ugh.
Direct questions or comments to:
firstname.lastname@example.org or 303.229.0583.