It's the photo that marks the beginning of her cancer journey and it's the last professional photos of us. It's also the photo I cropped and used for her obituary.
It's amazing how she changed so much from that photo and so quickly.
At the tea we went around and looked at the vendors, it wasn't too long before she said "I think I need to sit down." She was out of breath. We sat down at the table and chatted a bit. Many of the women were wearing fancy hats. She said, "We should do that next year." I smiled and said yes but in my heart I knew there wasn't going to be a next year.
One of the first speakers remarked that it has been noted that women feel the most beautiful when they're pregnant. I can't remember if she'd asked if anyone was pregnant or I think maybe she'd chatted with us before the program, but it was pointed out that I was almost 8 months pregnant. She asked me if that was a true statement and I said yes, I'd never felt more beautiful. My Mom beamed. She later told me she was proud of me for feeling that way, for being confident in myself.
This year they didn't have the Tea. I believe they'd had it for the past six years, but not this year. Somehow that just seems appropriate.
The next day Ryan, Carly, and the boys came down to Noblesville for Mother's Day. The kids were all able to play together, they had a great time.
Carly baked a cake...Graison helped.
And we got a few photos together.
Now this is the hard part. I kind of hope maybe some of you have stopped reading. We started discussing the cancer. My Mom asked Carly and I, "This isn't a death sentence is it?" Carly in her ever cheerful self said no. I didn't say anything at the time, but later I pulled her aside. I don't remember exactly how I said it, but I told her that yes, this was a death sentence. Her condition was terminal, her cancer was very bad. I know this because of reading about how the cancer works, the survival statistics, how the cancer had already affected her, and what the doctors had told me. Her chemotherapy was going to palliative only, to give her a little more time with us.
Most of all, I told her the truth because I wanted her to take advantage of the time she had. I wanted her to live each day to the fullest. She needed to do what she wanted to do, go where she wanted to go, and say what she needed to say now. There would be no later.
I suppose the "Christian" thing to have done would've been to tell her that we would pray for a miracle. God could take this away. But I couldn't tell her that because I didn't believe it. I would be lying. I believe God allowed her to be affected by this cancer and he wasn't taking it away. God is a healer yes, but not always in this earthly world. I will probably address this later, but I believe God knew she needed his ultimate healing and that was to be with him. Despite her appearances and her outside demeanor, my Mom was deeply troubled in her heart. She always has been and God knew it was time to take her home. She had had enough.
Finally, I told my Mom the truth because she looked to me for the plan to fight this cancer. Our plan was to get the treatment, extend her life some, but most importantly to preserve her dignity at all costs. I told her if ever this treatment becomes too tough, if she has to greatly sacrifice her quality of life, it's not worth it. In my line of work I see a lot of people be pushed to the limit with therapy, medications, feeding tubes, hospitalizations until they have no life left in them. And for what? The end result is always the same. I wasn't going to let her take that painful avenue, not my Mom. She was my Mom, she was Patricia Sexton and I wasn't going to let her become a shadow.
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