There is no real way to express the emotional toll taken on the family of someone who has cancer. It is a roller coaster that feels neverending. The constant waiting. The what if’s. The feeling of helplessness. The sleepless nights. The praying to a god you are not even sure exists.

It is exhausting.

After my mother’s mastectomy two weeks ago, they biopsied her tumor in 19 places. Four of the biopsies turned out to contain micro-invasive cancer while the other 15 were the expected non-invasive DCIS (Ductal carcinoma in situ) cancer her original biopsy had shown.

The invasive cancer was new. Something we were not prepared for, especially since we were reading the pathology report (my mother is a nurse and able to obtain a copy prior to having an appointment) without a doctor there to explain it. Our minds automatically spiraled in every direction as to what it would mean to her treatment. On the day of my mother’s mastectomy the doctor came to the waiting room and told us that the tests to her lymph nodes confirmed that the cancer had not spread. We cried with relief. The thought that the cancer might still have the ability to spread and that more treatment would be necessary was a devastating blow.

But now, after a whirlwind of ups and downs, they are telling us that it is over. Yes, over. Yesterday I spend a gut wrenching 3.5 hours at my mother’s oncologist appointment, the majority of which was spent waiting. Oddly enough, her first oncologist appointment will be one of her last. The doctor took us through a mini-lesson on the types of cancer, how they spread, how they are treated, and why options would or would not work in my mother’s case. Then, at the end of his lesson while we were all on pins and needles, he finally wrapped things up by telling us the magic words that my mother’s treatment was done. The micro-invasive cancer was smaller than 1mm and the chances of it spreading were less than 10%. That means no chemo, no radiation, and no hormone therapy.

Over.

I can’t even begin to tell you how happy we all are. We have been so loved, supported, and spoiled with cookies and prayers through this whole process. It meant the world to my mother knowing that she had such a strong support team behind her.

Somehow it still doesn’t seem real. I have had this constant feeling of worry as my companion and now I have permission to let it go. You’d think that would be easy to do, but I it is going to take a little time. However I am happy. I am so incredibly happy.

I told you mom would kick cancer’s ass.

Blogfully yours,

Summer