The Agony of Defeat

After being diagnosed with stage 4 Lymphoma we knew it was going to be an uphill battle for my mom. She spent the first 3 weeks in the hospital, where she had begun her first rounds of Chemo. Upon returning for labs a week or so later, we received the news that we had been hoping for her labs looked good the chemo looked like it was working. She had her second round of Chemo and then, it just seemed to go down hill from from there. She couldn't get keep her white blood cells up or her platelets to low. She would be come dehydrated from throwing up so much. She had uncontrollable bleeding from her bladder that was very painful for her. Excruciating pains radiating down her arm, kidney failure...the list went on and on. She just couldn't seem to get a break. I reached a point that I became angry. Wondering WHY???? Why did she have to suffer so much. I knew she had cancer. I got that! But come on! Why did she have to go through so much "extra stuff". Watching her have to suffer was sometimes simply unbearable.
As a result of all the complications and such, my poor mom RARELY got the spend a full week at home. She was having to be sent to the Emergency Room because of infection or admitted back into the Huntsman Cancer institute to receive more platelets. Whenever I could, I would make the drive up to the hospital, to be there with her and to comfort my dad. It became almost a daily ritual driving up there and I was pretty sure my car could get there by itself, since I was making the drive so often. I can remember entering the Hospital each time, taking a deep breath and saying "here we go again." Often times I would get that feeling of not wanting to drive up there AGAIN! and that I needed a little break today from the hospital. But then I would quickly think of my mom and of my dad who was spending many sleepless nights and days taking care of my mom. And how they would really like to have a break too, but didn't quite have that option and I would find myself trekking my butt back up there. I always thought in the back of my mind "won't it be so nice when my mom is cured and we don't have to come back here?"
That is what made leaving for the last time, so difficult to take. That last ride down the elevator. As I was pulling out of the parking garage for the very last time, I felt so let down and defeated. I was pulling out, walking away WITHOUT my mom. They, THE world renowned Huntsman Cancer Institute the one in the forefront of cancer research could not fix my mom. I was heartbroken. I was empty. We had lost.