Gloomy News

I posted a few months ago about my mother being mentally ill and making choices that made it difficult to have a relationship with her... After years of riding an emotional roller coaster I chose to end contact with her rather than go into a tailspin, myself, and to protect my own growing family from the "crazies" that contact with her entailed. It was not done to punish her (although I realize it hurt her to lose me) and it was not done because I hate her or anything like that -- I actually do love her, I just can't be around her.

A year and a half ago my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. She smokes heavily, and has done so since before I was born -- so over 40 years of daily carcinogens finally took hold. After the diagnosis she was told to quit smoking for two weeks before the surgeon would do surgery... five months later the doctors admitted her to the hospital to forcibly take her off cigarettes, because she couldn't do it on her own. She had half a lung removed, and as soon as she recovered from the surgery she took up smoking again.

(By the way-- I realize it's a powerful, horrible, terrible addiction, but let me just say that I hate smoking so much I can hardly even type these words. I hate the smell, I hate the second hand smoke, I hate the expense that often the poorest of people will shell out over other neccessities of life in order to get their fix, I hate the repercussions of the cancer stick. I HATE IT.)

My brother just came by yesterday to tell me that my mother is in the hospital, awaiting tests to see if she is a cantidate for chemotherapy for the cancer that is now throughout her OTHER lung -- the one complete lung that she has, which by the way, also has emphysema -- but because of the emphysema and half-removed other lung she probably WON'T be able to address this new cancer with drugs.

In other words, this is the beginning of the end.

Jason carefully put out the idea that it might be a good time for me to go see her, which has been gnawing at me all weekend. I agreed I'd go this afternoon -- Jason is going with me -- but it's not a pleasant outing by any stretch of the imagination.

There's no comfortable outcome of a visit to her; she will be uplifted by seeing me, but it will also stir up all those hurt feelings we both have over the six years of extremely limited contact. What can I say that won't be inflammatory? What can I say that won't break my contract with myself, to protect myself from being sucked into her black hole of need? Going to see her seems like a small thing, but it's already sapping my energy and I haven't even left the house... what is seeing her going to do to me?

I waffled over writing about this, and finally decided to go ahead and share... maybe putting it out there will give me some strength, or maybe just letting some of the thoughts go will release some of the stress. Either way, writing is how I deal with life... or death.