Today is Easter, and here I am writing about a sad news.
My Mum was recently diagnosed with gastric cancer. The news was shocking and unexpected, and terrifying at the same time. To add salt to the injury, we were also told that it is a stage 4 cancer that has spread to her other lymph nodes. Her spleen is also affected, and her case is inoperable. She hasn’t been given much to live.
My new reality is devastating, to say the least. She’s all I have got left, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I am not sure how to handle it.
I needed a second opinion on her diagnosis and treatment options, so I spent the last few days before the Easter holiday in private consultations with three other Gastric cancer surgeons. It’s not good news. They all agreed (independently) that surgery is not an option for her. Palliative chemo
I Googled what
palliative care means (and I have been Googling lots about cancer of late), and that is when reality hit me - it’s an end of life treatment.
Every minute count against my Mum, literally. She’s getting tired by the day, and the pain is non-stop. I was recently on the phone to her when the unbearable sharp-pain started in the middle of our conversation. She unintentionally left the line open whilst I listened to her groaning helplessly. I broke down. She stopped the call the moment she realised that she hadn’t.
She couldn’t bear seeing us all so upset and insisted that I shouldn’t miss work or let it affect my work, and I am trying so hard. I can’t stop thinking and worrying about what’s going to happen to my Mum. I’m definitely not finding it easy to be optimistic about this. I don’t even know how to cope. I just can’t believe this is happening.
I believe that God answers prayers, but whether He will answer me and heal my Mum, I don’t know, but that’s because my faith is feeble. I have trolled the internet and found a very inspiring testimony of how a 46-year-old was healed from stage 4 gastric cancer . I remain hopeful.
Please spare a minute to pray for my Mum’s healing. And if it is her time to kick the bucket, pray that she goes in peace, not in pain.
She’s a great, kind-hearted person, and I’d hate to reminisce that she departed in pain.
She will start her chemo towards the end of April.