Carmen's Mom
I had just gotten through a couple of rough years. At the age of 45, I was diagnosed with stage three locally advanced breast cancer. Such a big case of cancer deserved a big treatment, so a year was spent waging war on the cancer with my body as the battleground. After surgery, two different three month courses of chemotherapy, and a summer of radiation, I was tired and depressed, and it wasn't clear whether the treatment would ultimately be successful.I knew it was time to invest in my spiritual health. That winter, I took a course with Dr. Jane Sullivan Durand called "It's Your Time to be Well." I thrived in the instruction, nurturing, and care provided over two months and felt at last a sense of wholeness that had been missing. By spring, I was ready to step away from the world of cancer.
June 23rd was my son Ethan's 13th birthday. That was the day Carmen discovered the lump. My radiation had included the subclavicular lymph nodes, so I was alarmed when my 15 year-old daughter showed me the lump by her collar bone.
The next day found us at the doctor's office. After refusing a TB test, Carmen was sent for a chest x-ray that exposed the problem. She had enlarged lymph nodes inside her whole rib cage on both sides. The following day, we were sent to Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center to see a pediatric oncologist. That first office visit turned into surgery in the evening to get a biopsy of the lymph nodes.
When Carmen was sent home, she had to be watched closely because the tumor was close to blood vessels of her heart and it was surrounding some of her airways. She got to stay at home for one night, then went back to the hospital after developing a dry cough. I'm sure it would have been easier to keep Carmen at the hospital, but right from the beginning, the doctor was concerned for Carmen's mental and spiritual wellness. She had sensed that Carmen was overwhelmed with all the tests and needed to go home for an emotional refueling.
The biopsy confirmed our fears and expectations. Carmen had stage three non-Hodgkin's, large cell lymphoma. Once again, we were a family living with cancer.
The pediatric oncology nurse met with me to discuss possible treatment side effects. I remember taking the opportunity to share my grief with her. Throughout my own cancer treatment, one of my consolations was to think, "It could be worse. It could be one of my kids." Finally, I cried the tears that I had held back all the times I was with Carmen, not wanting to add to her fear.
The next day, Carmen started the weekly "induction" phase of her chemotherapy treatments. She recognized some of the names of the drugs like adriamycin. She accepted that she would lose her hair as an expected part of chemotherapy. Even though Carmen had a history of anxiety induced nausea, she did amazingly well with induction. She only had to be hospitalized for one week to get nausea under control.
The "maintenance" part of chemotherapy has been hard for Carmen. She is sick for more than half of every three week chemo cycle. But her doctor has juggled with all kinds of antinausea medication, and Carmen has been able to stay out of the hospital.
And I have managed to stay mostly well emotionally. My husband Paul has been working overtime for years now to make up for my inability to work steadily. His endless sense of optimism concerning the outcome of the cancer and the cancer treatments is a constant reminder of the hope we all seek. The rest of my family and friends are also supportive. Even though it seems I am homebound during parts of Carmen's treatments, I can always look forward to a long phone call from my mother or a walk and talk with my friend, Virginia, or my sister, Karen.
With about 4 months left of a year long treatment, Carmen is tiring of feeling sick. But the treatment team at Dartmouth even has solutions for that. The nurse encouraged Carmen to apply to a summer camp. Now Carmen is excited about the possibilities of feeling better this summer.
I thank goodness that we were sent to Dartmouth for Carmen's cancer treatments where she could get the best care. Carmen's team of doctors, nurses, psychologists, and social workers know how to treat more than a disease. They know that recovery has as much to do with the mind as it does the body.
Carmen's illness has given meaning to my own illness. I feel she was better prepared to go through the trauma of cancer treatments because she had watched me endure some of the same things before her. It was not quite as scary and unfamiliar as it could have been.
I know that Carmen and I will be working on wellness long after cancer treatment ends. But the world is full of opportunities for recovery. We have been graced with support on this part of the journey. I'm sure that the future will provide the resources we need to become well again.