“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’ already 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 of 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 resplendent 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 few 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
Posted via email from nick huhn’s journal
