analogbison0
Newcomer
9 messages
joined Aug 2017
Hey there, everyone. First off, I want to send my condolences to those who have moved on to a better place, and I also want to express some genuine respect to all of you for keeping this community going; these boards really mean a lot when you find yourself stuck in a situation that feels like there’s no way out.
So, for me, this whole thing is basically an old story that’s suddenly resurfaced. My mom is 91 now, and back in the day, she got hit with that classic "you've got maybe three to six months left" prognosis first at the hospital in San Diego, which was just a total chaotic mess of doctors running in circles. Then we moved things over to Chicago to see the specialists at the Petrov Department under what was then Dr. Buković’s lead. The diagnosis back then was inoperable cervical cancer. If my nine-year-old memory serves me right, I’m pretty sure it was still in situ at the time. She went through one long round of radiation, maybe a third session or something, and honestly, the damn thing just vanished like it was never even there. She never even had to touch chemo.
A few years back, she dealt with some kind of relapse situation, which meant another frantic trip to Chicago because some other doctor had completely botched her treatment. Everything ended up getting sorted out and fixed properly this time around, though.
Life has a funny way of throwing a massive pile of absolute nonsense your way all at once, and honestly, our family just got hit with a relentless wave of total bullshit—pardon my French. It started with my aunt being diagnosed with lung cancer when she was only 48, and we ended up losing her three years ago, which just completely derailed everything. Since then, my mom basically just kind of checked out and forgot to take care of herself entirely.
So, just last week—mostly because a friend kept nagging me about it—I actually went to see a gastroenterologist for an ultrasound. She was convinced I had some kind of issue since my stomach is looking like I’m in my third trimester, especially with how rock-hard the upper part feels.
So, the doctor at this private clinic—because obviously, nobody has the patience to wait a year for an ultrasound in this country—got a little too worked up and decided we were looking at a full-blown recurrence. He’s claiming there’s this massive tumor taking up space all through her pelvis and abdomen, and then he starts pointing out these liver changes that apparently have him worried, saying the texture looks way too rough, which is ridiculous because my mom wouldn't touch a drop of alcohol if her life depended on it. It was all very dramatic, and suddenly everything was being rushed toward San Diego for emergency testing at the hospital, which led to this incredibly awkward, heavy silence from the staff. Honestly, the doctors just seem to be making excuses and avoiding anything concrete, except for this one junior gynecologist—and I call him junior because he looked like a kid to me—who actually had the nerve to tell her, "Look, ma'am, you really don't need to worry. Everything else looks fine, and even that CA 125 level isn't actually that bad; it's probably just a cyst that we'll go ahead and clear out for you."
Honestly, my hair is practically standing on end right now, and thank God I'm not currently stuck in San Diego.
So, my mom—who’s 57, by the way—actually managed to get a meeting with some doctor who thinks we're looking at a recurrence, though apparently not from the same tumor. The theory is that one metastasis basically crawled into the spot where her ovary used to be and just sat there waiting to flare up, and now the doctor is operating under the assumption that it's started spreading toward the intestines. Nothing is set in stone until they actually cut her open, obviously. They also mentioned some kind of hemangioma on the liver, but even that's just a guess until they get in there and see for themselves.
And naturally, the panic starts setting in because they don't have a full surgical team out in San Diego capable of opening up and cleaning out a woman's reproductive system, handling the intestines, or performing a liver resection if the situation calls for it.
I honestly don’t even know where to start because I was way too young back in '91 to deal with any of that heavy lifting myself. Now, it feels like my entire world is collapsing all over again. I haven't even fully processed losing my aunt so suddenly, and now I'm expected to just snap out of it, pull myself together, and step up. To make matters worse, my mother is playing the martyr right now; she's in total shock, acting like the ultimate victim, and basically dumping the whole weight of this situation onto my shoulders. It isn't even like she’s actually suffering or going through something grueling—honestly, she wouldn't even realize how bad things have gotten if her friend hadn't talked her into getting worked up about it. Look, I get that she's stressed and that I need to step up and handle things, but my people are constantly terrified of everything, and frankly, I have no idea which way is up anymore.
I sent an email to that clinic over on 24th St and, surprise surprise, absolutely nothing. Total radio silence. It’s always the same story—if you aren't some big shot with a massive bank account, they just straight up ignore you. My mom is already breathing down my neck, telling me I need to go hunt down Folnović at the Petrov Department either today or tomorrow once she finally gets those test results over to me. Honestly, I was even reaching out to some specialist clinic in New York to see if they could help with the Vaxira situation.
So, my boss sits there under the AC, totally chilling while she leaves everything for me to figure out, and then if I slip up even once, she’ll be riding my back about how I didn't step up enough for the rest of my life. I know deep down I should probably just sit her down for a real talk, but honestly, that feels like a losing battle because it'll just look like I'm being difficult or don't want to help, and I'm pretty sure that would only make things way more awkward for both of us.
I honestly don't even know where to start or how to process this, but everything just feels completely surreal right now. Every single day lately, I’ve just been praying to just about anything that can hear me—begging for the strength to get through whatever is coming next, both for her and for myself. And look, sorry for the massive vent, but I’m officially done crying my eyes out; I need to just spit all this out somewhere before it starts eating me alive from the inside. 🙂