CT Scan

This is a difficult post to write.

On May 5, 2014 Mom went to see her doctor in the morning to discuss the CT scan results.  She sent me this text:

I was in the Memory Care unit at the Forum seeing patients. I thought it was a little odd that she was being referred to a pulmonologist for pneumonia and emphysema as both of these conditions can be adequately treated by a primary care physician.  Maybe it was just a precaution.  I also didn't ask how and why they managed to get her into a specialist so quickly.  Next day appointments are unheard of. My patients with severe COPD I can't get in for a month or two.  Hmm, I thought, must just be easier in a smaller town. I didn't even ask why.  All of that should've been a huge red flag, but it didn't faze me.

Around lunch time I had an OB appointment.  I was 32 weeks along, baby was fine.

I don't remember who called who after that appointment, but we talked on the phone. She had given the doctor my note about my concerns about her treatment for pneumonia.  He gave her a copy of the CT scan report to give to me.  She asked if she could fax it to me on our home fax.  Our home fax still wasn't working I told her.  I was going to Westminster Village to see more patients, I told her to fax it to me there.  She hesitated.  "No," she said, "I'll just wait until you get home.  Call me when you get home." I said ok.  I was so cavalier.  I'm sure she has a spot on her lung, I thought.  Lots of people have "spots."  I'm sure they'll just want to watch it.  I never once thought it was cancer.  After all, she had been told no cancer. 

I finished work and I went home.  I called her, I got her voicemail.  I texted her to call me when she got a chance. She called back pretty quickly. I was eating a hamburger.  I sat down at the dining table and used the back side of my OB appointment paper to write down what she told me.  She read it to me, and I wrote this:

The report impression actually read, "Findings highly suspicious for malignancy involving the left hilum and left lower lobe resulting in collapse of the left lower lobe and probably post obstructive pneumonia in the left upper lobe. There is also mediastinal and hilar adenopathy." 

I stared at what I had written.  She had lung cancer.  This was lung cancer and it was not early.  It was bad.

Cancer, in general, doesn't scare me, but there are three cancers that do...pancreas, liver, lung.  I didn't know a lot about lung cancer then, but I knew the 5 year survival statistics were poor.  At the time, I didn't even realize how poor they were for small cell lung cancer.  The five year survival rate for extensive stage small cell lung cancer is 1-2%.  I didn't know that yet.  She didn't even tell me the tumor was 6 cm...the size of a baseball. 

I will tell you right then I knew my Mom was going to die. I didn't know how soon, but I knew she wasn't going to see my girls grow up. I knew she probably wouldn't even see them reach kindergarten. Call me a pessimist if you must. I prefer the term realist. 

I didn't say anything, I couldn't speak.  If I spoke, I would start crying.  She said, "It doesn't sound very good does it?"  I paused trying to hold back tears.  Finally, I burst into tears and choked out "No, no it doesn't."  She apologized.  I knew she was apologizing for being a smoker for all these years.  It didn't matter to me.  No one deserves cancer.  I said quietly, "It's ok."  She said she would see me tomorrow and we hung up the phone.

Spencer asked what was wrong.  I said, "Mom probably has lung cancer."  He disagreed, he brushed it off, "I'm sure she's fine," he said.  He didn't understand.

My Mom was going to die. 

I put away my food, went upstairs to our bathroom, locked the door, sat down, and sobbed.