A glimmer?

I talked to mom last night. She said that this could be a good thing. Apparently the brain is a "haven" for cancer - and when it can't find any other place in the body to hide, it normally shows up in the brain. I'm not sure exactly how that is good news, but apparently it is.

So today mom gets the results from her PET scan, and we'll know if this new activity in the brain is good (it's vacated the lungs and is nowhere else in the body) or bad (it has spread even further through her body).

I'm still failing to see how this is "good" news.

Good news is a trip to DisneyWorld.

Not cancer in the brain.

The Lottery

On my way to work this morning, I drove past the lottery billboard. $304 Million if you win.

Every morning, I play a game - "What would I do if I had that amount of money?"

Typically I think about quitting my job, buying a new home or traveling the world.

This morning, all I could gather is that money can't solve my problems this time. Mom's already being seen by doctors at MD Anderson, Dartmouth and her local hospital. Resources aren't the problem in this case. Science is. And even $304 million can't buy a cure.

Maybe I'll buy a ticket anyway. Can't hurt.

If I do - the first check I write will be toward breast cancer research.

May $304 million could buy someone a cure. Someday.

A Journal for My Mom

I went to the store today and bought a journal. Not a journal for me, a journal for my mother. Well, it's sort of a journal for me.

It's a place where my mother can write down the story of her life, using prompts from the book. I'm a little nervous to ask her to fill out the book. I'm nervous that if I ask her to use the journal, to write down the story of her life, it's equivalent to giving up. To admitting that she won't be around to continue telling her story.

But I'm going to give it to her anyway. And I have good reason. First, I'd like her to be around to fill out a "Conversations with my Grandma" book one day. But if she's not, I really want to have this information written down, kept safe, for my children to read. My mom's mom died of heart failure at age 53. I never knew her, and there was nothing other than my mom's stories of her to paint the picture of Grandma in my heart. I want to make sure there's something for myself - and my future children - to immortalize her with.

But perhaps it's good. I'm a very symmetrical person, so when I purchased one for my mother, I purchased one for my father, too. And my husband's parents. So we will have a complete set of stories from our parents, just in case. And hopefully, we can add to these journals several times over the next thirty years.

But if not - I have a snapshot of my mother. Something to hug at night and keep close to my heart. Something to keep her alive.

Even if I can't.

Welcome.

Welcome to my blog. But let's get something straight - this blog is for me, not for you. But please, enjoy my journey.

Background:

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago this July. She was 54.

My mother has three daughters - myself, an older sister, Meg and a younger sister, Mel.

At the time of diagnosis, we were 27, 24 and 22. Barely adults. Barely out of the nest.

Mom isn't doing so well right now. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She suffered through her treatments for an entire year. She was "cured" 11 months after receiving her diagnosis. We had a glorious three months.

Then she relapsed. Her cancer spread to her lungs. And so began the treatments. Again.

She was doing well - five months into the treatment, she received great news. The tumors were shrinking. The chemo was doing its job.

Or was it?

Flash forward to March 2011. I've just experienced a flood in my home. A week later, buried the woman who was most like a grandmother to me. And a week later - this past week - we received news. The cancer has spread to her brain.

And the processing begins....