Optimism & pain
"I probably don't know what pain feels like- I should be thankful." It was difficult to hear her strained voice as the luggage rolled down
the hallway, but those are the words my mom said as we walked out of
the hotel this morning en route to Vanderbilt Ingram Cancer Center.
Neuropathy has now paralyzed one of mom's vocal cords, and continues
to pester her shoulder and back. But she claims to not know pain. As many who know me 'in real life' aleady know, Mom has stage IV lung
cancer. If you don't know me or the story, you might think, "that
sucks, but that's the price you pay for smoking." The fact is, mom was
not a smoker. In fact, most new lung cancer diagnoses find their way
to those that never smoked or quit decades ago. Lung cancer remains,
however, subject to a stigma and cold shoulder in terms if research
and fundraising. More at: http://lcfamerica.org/ Mom visits Vandy every Monday to participate in a clinical trial
targeted to young (she was diagnosed at 50), non-smoking females. As
you may or may not know, stage IV lung cancer is not something that's
easily treated, nor is it kind to it's victims. But the optimism here
at VICC and in my mom's heart are unbridled. Behind all the masks and
caps and funny hats are smiles, memories and resplendant life. For the past 3+ years, I would think that my mom has come to know
pain. While sitting in the chair next to me a fee minutes ago, the
research nurse commented on how remarkable mom's endurance and
determination has been throughout this process. Mom replied, simply,
"You don't know what you can do until you have to do it." My mother's journey - and the journey we've traversed as a family -
has been arduous, but pain has become a very, very relative term. We should be thankful. NH Sent from my overpriced thief of attention
the hallway, but those are the words my mom said as we walked out of
the hotel this morning en route to Vanderbilt Ingram Cancer Center.
Neuropathy has now paralyzed one of mom's vocal cords, and continues
to pester her shoulder and back. But she claims to not know pain. As many who know me 'in real life' aleady know, Mom has stage IV lung
cancer. If you don't know me or the story, you might think, "that
sucks, but that's the price you pay for smoking." The fact is, mom was
not a smoker. In fact, most new lung cancer diagnoses find their way
to those that never smoked or quit decades ago. Lung cancer remains,
however, subject to a stigma and cold shoulder in terms if research
and fundraising. More at: http://lcfamerica.org/ Mom visits Vandy every Monday to participate in a clinical trial
targeted to young (she was diagnosed at 50), non-smoking females. As
you may or may not know, stage IV lung cancer is not something that's
easily treated, nor is it kind to it's victims. But the optimism here
at VICC and in my mom's heart are unbridled. Behind all the masks and
caps and funny hats are smiles, memories and resplendant life. For the past 3+ years, I would think that my mom has come to know
pain. While sitting in the chair next to me a fee minutes ago, the
research nurse commented on how remarkable mom's endurance and
determination has been throughout this process. Mom replied, simply,
"You don't know what you can do until you have to do it." My mother's journey - and the journey we've traversed as a family -
has been arduous, but pain has become a very, very relative term. We should be thankful. NH Sent from my overpriced thief of attention
