Continuation

Mimi goes through surgery, but has many set backs. She has had skin grafts nad they are not taking. The doctors will re-do the skin grafts, but say that if they are rejected again amputation is an option. The unspoken alternative choice is to not amputate and let it go. Life expectancy seems slim either way. She has additional surgery and the graft sticks. Unfortunately she develops osteo myelitis and has to begin very strong intravenous antibiotics. We go home with instructions on how to administer the meds, care for her "pick" change her wound dressing every day and generally meet her daily needs, food, toilet, bath, company. Friends call frequently. They would like to offer advice on which doctors to use, which hospitals to choose and which treatments they and their friends think are best. Some even get angry when we choose to stay the course with Memorial Sloan Kettering. A colleague from her school suggests that she call a former parent who has dealt with melanoma. Against our better wishes she calls him. He gives her a detailed description of his treatment and gets angry when she says her doctors are taking a different tack. A neighbor repeatedly tells us of her friend who began as Mimi did and is now playing tennis. Why are your doctors failing you her tone implies. These people are hard to be around and make us all very angry. It is tough to be angry at well meaning friends who are offering help. Mimi joins us for Thanksgiving dinner, but spirals downward the nest day and continues to deteriorate.

She enters into a chemotherapy trial, and begins taking 6 pills a day. The evening of day 2 she is vomiting profusely. by day 4 she is completely constipated. I offer to get medication to help this situation, and she won't take any of the medications I bring home for fear that they will interfere with the chemo. I have been through chemotherapy during my son's bout with lymphoma. This is not novelty for me I just want her to listen to me takek the meds and be more comfortable. Eventually we got back to the doctor and he says she must take laxetives,and not get impacted. As the weeks go by, her foot (the source the the melanoma) gets worse and she is operated on. They remove her heel and teel us that theywill do reconstructive surgery later. She goes home with a suction machine that creates a great deal of pain and recquires professional nursing help. I spent all day, evrey day, ay her home, and our sister spends the weekend so that I can get some time off.

While she and I and her two sons deal with this devastating news, we have to get a grip on the practical matters. She can only walk with the use of a "roll about". essentially a skateboard at the knee level. She puts her bad leg/knee on the board, and scoots along with her "good" leg pushing. We visit doctors and got mostly bad news. The surgeon at Memorial Hospital is cheery and gives us hope. He sends us to an oncologist who matter of factly sends us into a chemotherapy trial which has a 30% chance of working.

not what I expected

My father died when I was 22. He was 67. My mother died when I was 34. She was 73. I felt some sense of abandonment, I was an orphan. And I missed them dearly. Most of all I missed the grandparents they wouldd have been to my children At age 34, I realized that I would get no sympathy, but, I missed having parents at my children's graduations, ( and in two cases at their births) at their confirmations, weddings, etc. My husbands parents were blessed with longevity. My in-laws witnesses my children's births, baptisms, confirmations, high school graduations, and his mother alone was there for all three college graduations, weddings, the birth and baptism of 4 great-grandchildren, and another engagement. She is still going strong. My sense was, that what I lost in having my parents present for these occasions, was made up for in not having to worry about aging parents. I really exalted in the fact that I had no parents while my friends were dealing with their parents illnesses. Then suddenly I got a wake up call. My widowed sister, eight years my senior was diagnosed with stage four melenoma.