The Bittersweet Side of Lung Cancer and Lymphoma

I lost my mom to lung cancer in June 2008. She departed this world with her dignity intact and in her home, with her two daughters by her side. Those who knew her were not surprised to hear she died with the same grace she exhibited throughout her life.

I was fortunate enough to be my mom's primary caregiver for four months before she passed away. My husband and daughter offered full support although it meant we would be a thousand miles apart for an undetermined period of time. No one, except my mother, viewed it as an inconvenience. Caring for my mother was the only option for my family.

For years, mom harped at me to get a "real" job. She didn't understand how I could make money writing articles from home. She had no interest in email or websites, nor a clue about affiliate or social marketing. But, she had heard of MySpace and eBay.

When it came time for mom to have a live-in caregiver, I was the logical choice. I could conduct business anywhere as long as I had my laptop. Although it took ten years, mom finally understood why I was so determined to be my own boss.

If I had been working for someone else, my mother would have ended up in a nursing home. I'll never forget the day she looked at me and said, "I'm really glad you didn't take my advice and get a 'real' job".

Mom's lung cancer was detected early. In fact, the "suspicious speck" was so small they suggested she wait three months to see if it grew. It did. The biopsy confirmed it was non-small cell lung carcinoma (NSCLC). The doctors agreed the best course of action would be to perform a Lobectomy; removal of a section of the lung.

Complications arose and the surgeon was forced to remove her entire lung. What should have been a relatively simple procedure in the grand scheme of things, quickly escalated into an 'everything that could go wrong did go wrong', situation.

Mom spent over a month in the hospital. Through physical therapy, she began to buildup her strength, but it was a struggle to do basic tasks. As she huffed and puffed for air after walking from one room to another, she looked at me and said, "I think most of us take our lungs for granted. Not being able to breathe sucks!"

My mom was like many other moms. She hid her pain quite well. She'd put on a happy face even when she felt like she was going to vomit. She would offer to fix you a sandwich although she couldn't muster up the energy to make one for herself.

My sister lived next door to our mother and was able to help when needed and be there in an instant if anything went wrong. A few months after the surgery, my sister informed me mom was having personality changes and considerable confusion. She refused physical therapy saying she was too tired to do simple exercises. She was losing her balance and had fallen several times.

Many of our family members are involved in the medical field. We were deeply concerned about mom's lack of improvement and I flew up for a visit. I was shocked to see her physical condition. She weighed 101 pounds, had a grayish tint to her skin, and was far from being herself.

While it took considerable convincing, mom agreed to have another PET scan. The test revealed her cancer had metastasized and developed into lymphoma. Her life expectancy was less than six months.

I returned home, took care of unfinished business, packed my bags and laptop and headed back to mom's house. Her primary care physician established in-home hospice, which was a wonderful blessing I will always be grateful for.

During our time together we talked about things never before discussed. We openly talked about our fears. We laughed, cried, hugged, and really listened to one another. We said "I love you" several times a day and always before going to bed. The reality is we knew our time was limited and wanted to take advantage of every moment we had left.

We'd stay up until the wee hours of the morning and watch TV. A few months before she died, mom had cravings for banana splits at 2 am. This went on for two or three weeks. We'd joke about how she needed to gain weight, but I was going to end up wearing that ice cream on my hips.

Mom engaged in estate planning and prearranged her funeral. She told me what type of burial clothing she wanted, color of lip stick and nail polish, which earrings, type of music, length of service and casket floral spray.

Besides being the Queen of Cooking, my mother was also the Queen of Organization. She made an exceptionally difficult task as easy as possible for her children. She even went so far as to presale her home so we wouldn't be saddled with maintaining it and listing it for sale.

The day mom died was surreal. My sister and I were with her when she took her final breath. We began going through the motions of calling the hospice nurses, watching the coroner take our mother's body away in the hearse, making funeral arrangements, calling friends and family to inform them of the service.

We had one week to pack our mother's belongings and prepare the house for the new owner. Words cannot explain how surreal it was to distribute and pack everything my mother owned less than 48 hours after her burial.

Everyone walked around in a daze. It was awkward divvying up mom's personal belongings. Everything we touched triggered memories of days gone by. Of days that would never occur again.

I inherited my passion for cooking from my mother, so she bequeathed many of her kitchen gadgets to me. I also inherited her recipe box, which sits on the bookshelf next to my computer.

I am in the process of creating and photographing each recipe to create a cookbook for my sister, daughter and friends. What better way to keep mom's presence around than through sharing her favorite recipes?

Mom loved iced tea. She had a small "dedicated" pan stained with tea tannin from years of use. As a Floridian, sweet tea is a staple of my life. Now when I brew tea, I use mom's dedicated pan. While it could be my imagination, I've noticed my homebrewed tea tastes much better these days. I think mom's magic tea mo-jo is infused in that pan.

Last week, I prepared a roasted chicken in mom's slow cooker. I'm not certain of its age, but would venture to say it's a 1970s model. As I placed the bird in the pot, I remembered this was the same meal I had made for her on Mother's Day; just a month before she died. She said it was the best chicken she had ever eaten.

I recently used her small food processor when making cheesecakes for a party. As I struggled to unlock the top, I flashed back to the day we stood in her kitchen and she nearly chucked it out the window because she couldn't figure out how to unlock the lid.

I held the food processor, looked up at the heavens and asked mom to show me how to unlock the lid because I was ready to chuck it too. Next thing you know, I twisted the top and the food processor magically opened.

Everyone loved the cheesecakes and kept asking for the recipe. I'm pretty certain mom was watching over and pleased to know that her food processor helped make the desserts the star of the party.

The most precious item I inherited from my mother's kitchen is her 9 x 12 cake pan. My guess is the pan is at least 30 years old. The bottom is covered with knife marks from slicing hundreds of cakes.

Mom made cakes for every occasion. Birthdays, anniversaries, births, deaths, job promotions, get-well, and welcome-to-the-neighborhood cakes. Mom's cakes were the best. Moist, melt-in-your-mouth and made with lots of love.

During mom's eulogy, her friend and boss of over 20 years referred to my mother's cake pan. He reminisced about all the birthday and holiday cakes that Barb (my mom) had brought to work.

He talked about the day he and the staff stared at the cake pan and tried to guess how many knife cuts were in the bottom. He exclaimed there were decades of happy memories baked inside that cake pan and referred to it as the "pan of a million marks".

My mom was a frugal woman who worked hard her entire life. In her final days she told me she was ashamed she had not developed a fat financial portfolio she could leave to her children.

Personally, I'd rather have the kitchen gadgets. The joy I obtain from brewing tea in mom's stained pot to baking a cake in the pan of a million marks is much more valuable than money.