Another surge... When I last saw her in June it was around 5, approximately the level of a smoker. Recently the cancer index (Carcinoembryonic antigen, CEA) soared to 18. Abnormally high. Meaning the tumour is spreading. How much she does not tell me. Where to, I ask, and she is remains silent.
Yet mum remains so hopeful. How does she do it? How does anything who is told for the n-th time that malignant cells are multiplying rapidly cope with the news? "Don't worry," mum said, "The doctor said we can still do chemo, so there is still hope. When the doctor says there is nothing that can be done, then that's really the end. But it's not come to that".
How did she sound so calm, so hopeful? Is she hopeful and calm for my sake, so as not to make me worry? Deep down inside, is she perhaps frightened and feeling incredibly lonely in this entire struggle?
We spoke for almost half an hour about her condition. She mostly talked, while I closed my eyes and listened. At some points almost tearing. Listened while my hands started to shake from the disbelief.... from the unwillingness to accept reality. Though I know, deep down, I do know that this is the reality. A reality I cannot change, and that I must accept. This fear, this anxiety, this worry, these tears. There are just feelings that will subside...
Mum spoke of how she has maintaining a balanced lifestyle of good nutrition and exercise and meditation. Occasionally she takes the oral chemo tablets that the (western) doctor give her, and on the side she's also consulting (traditional) herbal remedies. "It's not the end yet. And in the end, we just have to accept it.... I've been making preparations. I'll tell you more when you are here."
She spoke of how she intends to undergo chemo after she retires in a month. A six, perhaps eight sessions of treatments, and that will be all. And she said she'll need to maintain her health and her vitality so that she can come visit me here in Canada in Spring next year.
Spring seems so far away from now. So very far away...
