The story of a mother and daughter’s struggle with cancer

It all began in January 2005.  Mom had been to the GP often  for the same complaint – bleeding haemorrhoids, but she never checked the area, just prescribed  cream and sent her packing.  On that fateful day, mom insisted that the  GP actually take a look and see what was going on as the bleeding had  become much worse and she was constantly bloated and in pain.  The  doctors’ diagnosis was “thrombosed piles” and she suggested Mom pay  a visit to Dr Fotheringham at Olivedale Clinic  to have them removed by laser – “easy peasy” she said.  On consulting him, he said that he would  take her into theatre and do a haemorrhoidectomy – he didn’t examine her at the consultation as he said he would do that in theatre.

I remember having a  funny, anxious feeling about the  surgery.  I tried to come up with all kinds of excuses as to why she  shouldn’t go in on that particular day – her throat was sore so she shouldn’t  have an anesthetic; we were too busy at  work … but mom was adamant.  We waited the whole day for the  surgery and eventually Dr Fotheringham took her in at about  6pm on 2 February 2005.  20 minutes later  she was back from surgery and the haemorrhoidectomy had not been done.   When Dr Fothers came round at 8pm that evening all he  said was he hadn’t performed the op but would see mom in the morning.  We looked at him in surprise – what??? – then  he just walked out of the ward.  Oh no, that wasn’t good enough for me so  I followed him out and asked what was  going on?  For those of you that  don’t know Dr Fothers, he is a  very intimidating man with red hair and a red beard and  everyone is terrified of him.  He wouldn’t even answer me at first – he wanted to know  who I was and how old I was.  I  told him I was her daughter and although I  looked young, I was 31 years old and wanted to know was what was  going on.  Well, he laid it out in  simple terms – he said that mom had anal canal cancer that  required major surgery which would leave  her with a permanent colostomy.   Talk about shock – I think I must have just stared at him with my mouth  hanging open.  I couldn’t even think of what to say, but before I could  answer, he instructed me not to say anything to her that night as the shock could be fatal after an anesthetic.  He told me that I should be at the hospital at  7.00 the next morning to be with mom when he told her – then he  left.

That was the night my whole world fell apart.   I went back into the ward and tried to put a smile on my face and pretend all  was ok but only managed for about 15 minutes, after which time I said I have to go home to  sort the animals out.  My sister and I left the hospital and on the way  out I told her what Dr Fothers had said.  We were both absolutely floored and worst of all, we  didn’t have our mom to lean on and ask for advice – suddenly, we were on our  own.

I drove home in a state  of shock, tears steaming down my face so I  could hardly see where I was driving.  I was hiccupping with tears and I felt as  though I’d been punched in my tummy.  Going round and round in my head was  that I didn’t know how the colostomy bags worked; if they were big or  small; where they fit and most of all,  the scare of the big C which had entered our lives.  I spent the night  vomiting from sheer shock and drawing comfort from my most precious  animals as they never left my side,  knowing something was up because I was so upset.

The next morning I was  at the hospital at 7.00am and shortly  thereafter my sister walked in.  By then I think my mom knew something  was up because why would we both be at the hospital so early and especially my  sister, who had a very difficult boss and lived  quite far from the hospital.  Dr Fothers eventually arrived at  08h15 and when mom said “hi doc, what’s  happening?” he stood at the bottom of the bed and said “sorry but you  have anal canal cancer, we will have to remove your rectum and anus and  give you a permanent colostomy”.  Mom lay there as if to say “you are  joking” until she looked at my sister and I and saw that we were crying and realised we already  knew.   She said “OK, I’ll  wait for the biopsy results” and he assured her that he wouldn’t be telling  her this if he wasn’t sure.  She just nodded.  After spending a sleepless night thinking about the  surgery, my first question was “what if we don’t do  anything”?  He answered “she’ll die”.  Dr  Fothers left the ward a couple of minutes later with an instruction  for mom to be at his rooms at 9.00 o’clock the following Tuesday  morning.

A couple of  minutes later, one of the sisters came to fetch my sister and I to take us to his rooms and we had to walk away and leave mom  alone.  She looked small and  forlorn and I just wanted to hold her tightly and make this  all go away.  Dr  Fothers wanted to make it clear to me what would happen if mom  didn’t have the surgery and also give us all the details we needed so that  when we got home and mom had questions, we could answer them.  I have no recollection of what he  actually said that day.  I was too hysterical but thank goodness my  sister was there and able to have a coherent conversation with him.  On  the way home my Aunt phoned to see how mom was; Mom told her the  diagnosis and then the tears started to flow.  I don’t think I have ever  been so terrified in my life.  We had to  wait 5 days for the result, which is  stressful enough to kill anyone.  I knew deep down in my heart that he  would not have told us what he had found unless he was 100% sure.  I was in no doubt that when we got the  results they would be positive for cancer

Those five days felt like the  longest of our lives – I couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard I  tried.  I phoned the doctor that had told mom it was haemorrhoids to ask  for tranquilisers and she immediately went on the defensive and said she  couldn’t have known it was so serious.  We never heard from her  again.  I felt like I had to try to be strong for mom, but my heart  was breaking at what she would have to face. She tried to be positive and  cheerful and kept saying she wouldn’t worry until we actually had the results,  but I think she also knew deep down in her heart that Dr Fothers wouldn’t have  told us what he did if he wasn’t sure.  Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough  but I also dreaded it with every fibre of my being.

We knew the minute we  walked into his rooms that the results were positive just by looking at his  face.  By then we were all calm and were able to have a proper discussion  as to the surgery or alternative chemo / radiation treatment and we left  his rooms with a promise to make a decision soon.  My  sister and I had asked mom to see an oncologist for  alternative treatment as the surgery was so drastic.   She reluctantly agreed (she’s been terrified of chemo since her  niece battled breast cancer) and we had an appointment to see him after we had  seen Dr Fothers for the biopsy results. Between the two doctors visits we  all went and had breakfast and watched the world passing by as though we  didn’t have a care in the world.

Eventually it was time to see the oncologist,  who was so rude that he took a call from his brother-in-law on  his cellphone and sat chatting about their upcoming hunting trip while  we were sitting in front of him.  I was absolutely horrified – did he not  understand what was happening to us?  He examined mom and told her about  very aggressive treatment they would do without surgery (but she would have to have a temporary  colostomy), told us to decide which route  we would follow and ushered us out of his rooms.

After some very careful  soul searching, mom decided on the  surgery route and booked the op for the 16th February 2005.  If I thought I  was terrified before I had no idea what was coming.  I can remember the  days leading up to the surgery; I was incapable of doing my job; it was impossible to make  small talk about irrelevant things but even more impossible to speak about what was  really on your mind.  None of  my friends knew what I was feeling because cancer hadn’t touched  their lives.  All I wanted to do  was cry and beg God to let this all be a cruel  joke.   As the surgery neared, I would be  driving home from work and look at other people in their cars, singing along  to music, smiling or just being normal and I would think  ”how dare you  be happy when we are so unhappy”.

D-day finally came and we  booked into Olivedale again.  They prepped mom and she tried to mentally  prepare herself for the next day.  When they came to take mom to  surgery at about 12pm, they allowed me to  into pre-theatre with her to wait until it was time for her to go into  theatre (the op would take  about 4 hours so I was in for a long wait).  I don’t remember if we spoke at all – mom was in a  happy, drugged state and I was too scared to say  anything in case I told her how scared I was.  Suddenly it was time and  as I watched them wheel her into theatre all I could think was “how are  we going to cope with this?”  I never for one moment thought she wouldn’t  make the surgery – I just knew she ‘d come through  it!

I spent the next four  hours chain smoking and drinking coffee with  friends and family coming and going.  They had said that mom would  go straight into ICU so eventually when my sister arrived, we just sat  outside the ICU and waited.  Eventually I heard crying and knew at once  that it was my mom.  They were  wheeling her out of theatre and she was in so much pain it just broke my  heart.  They took her into ICU but wouldn’t let us in.  At this stage I was ready  to kill someone; did they not understand that my mom needed her  family with her?

Eventually the ICU  sister allowed us in for five minutes and there was our mom, pipes and tubes coming out of  everywhere, looking yellow and gaunt.  All she kept saying was that she thought something was wrong because  she was in too much pain.  I waited for Dr Fothers, who made his rounds at 8pm and told him that  something was not right – mom doesn’t complain for nothing!   He asked me if I realized the extent of the  surgery and said that of course she  would be in pain.  I had to leave shortly  thereafter and wondered as I drove home how on earth mom would get through the  night.

When I got to the  hospital the next morning the ICU sister told me that mom had been  bleeding through the cut the whole night  and would need to go back into theatre  for emergency surgery.  I was so angry because she had been left  there the whole night in agony when something could have been done the night  before.  Mom was taken back to theatre at 11am on 17th February and  they quarterised the bleeders.  After she came out of theatre she  was a hundred times better but they had to give her quite a lot of blood  because of the blood she had lost the night before.  Mom spent two days  in the ICU and was then taken back to her ward.  I can remember counting  down the days until she would come home but was terrified at the same time  because how was I going to look after her and go to work. Three days later  another blow came when Dr Fothers came to tell us that the cancer has spread  into the lymph nodes in the groin and that mom would need extensive  radiation.  I could just not believe what was happening.  Mom had  one very bad day with vomiting and extreme pain and that same day my  little dog Zoya took ill.  I  had to take her to the vet where they admitted her for the weekend.  I  completely fell apart after this – it was the first time my baby had to stay  in hospital and allI kept  thinking was why us; what have we done to deserve this …?

By this time I was  absolutely exhausted with rushing to work, rushing home, walking and feeding  the dogs and rushing back to the hospital in the evenings.  My nerves  were frazzled and I was distraught.  I wasn’t eating and noticed  that I was losing weight – a couple of months later, my boss’ wife told me I  looked like Morticia  Adams!  After 10 days mom  was released from hospital because she was doing so well.   I couldn’t  wait to get her home, tucked up in bed where I could help her get better, but  little did we know the long road still ahead of us.   I love taking care of people and all my caregiving  and maternal instincts kicked in – I wanted to do everything for mom and  make her as comfortable as possible.  I wanted  to cook her favorite foods (not that she could eat much) and  hated leaving her alone all day.  I found a strength in myself I didn’t  know I had and mom and I pushed ahead with positivity, knowing that we  could fight this together.  It was hard going, getting up early to  get mom some breakfast and making sure she had what she needed upstairs  so as to minimise the amount of times she would have to go up and down the  stairs.  I would get the animals fed and myself dressed, then rush off to  work and get home at around 5.00.  About a week after getting out of  hospital, mom started coming walking with me and the dogs again, then she  would rest on the couch while I fed the dogs and cooked dinner.  Then  shower time … I would wash her legs, and feet (she wasn’t allowed  to bend or sit at all for 2 months), dry them off and put cream  on them.  On weekends, I would give her a pedicure – I loved  spoiling her and showing her how much I love  her.

Mom was only allowed to  either lie down or  stand and you can imagine how uncomfortable she was all the time.  She was healing  like a star and had constant visitors which helped her frame of mind.  Finally, 6 weeks after the op the day came for  radiation to start.  One every day for 32 sessions.  All I kept  thinking was how is she going to get through this. Lying there and being burnt  on a daily basis, but her will to survive for her children was stronger than  anything else.  The radiation definitely took its toll, ruined her  bowel and burnt the living daylights out of her.  I marked every day off  on the calendar and eventually we were counting down the last five.  And  finally it was finished!  I was so excited because even though mom was  still ill, the treatment was over and she could just focus on getting well  again and adjusting to her new lifestyle of living with a colostomy.

It was at this time that my little dog,  Zoya – aged 6, started showing signs of not being well, but nothing we could  put our finger on.  She was gaining weight and eating with more gusto than ever  before.  She had always raced up and down the stairs like a lunatic,  but now when I got home in the evenings,  she would wait on the top landing and shout for me to come and say  hello.  We thought she was just busy hanging out with her granny and had become  too lazy to come all the way done when I could come up!   We also  noticed that even though she still nagged to go walking every day, she became  tired and wasn’t able to  keep up.  Still we put it down to her being a bit  overweight and it was also very hot –  we started walking later in the evening when it was cooler and she  particularly loved it when there was a bit of a breeze that blew her long ears  back!.  She still loved walking, but her body seemed to be  giving out on her.  After many visits and discussions with our wonderful  vet, we thought it was  time to run lots of tests. This  is where our next nightmare  began.

We visited our  vet and he suggested we test for Thyroid problems  first.  Those tests all came back  negative.  He had mentioned that  if it was not Thyroid it could very possibly be Cushings but in his words  ”let’s cross that bridge if we get there”.  Unfortunately we got there – quickly – she was diagnosed with full blown  Cushings.  I was  devastated at the result but he assured me that lots of dogs with Cushings  lead perfectly normal lives once their  cotisol levels are under control.  I remember mom saying “it’s ok, at  least now we know what the problem is and we can treat it”.  I still felt very emotional and  distraught because I had a sinking feeling that it was not going to be that  easy. Her weight escalated to 9.1lkg’s.  That would certainly explain the  tiredness and discomfort.  She was  battling to breathe as she was carrying so much extra weight and  was hungry all the time.

So here began the  medication – all trial and error.   Unfortunately the only medication that treats Cushings is a tablet  called Lysodren which contains DDT (highly toxic and  dangerous). The poor little thing was stiff  all the time and hobbled along.   She could no longer climb the stairs so either grannie or I  were carrying her up and down all the time.  I was very loathe to put her on the  medication but wanted to do everything I could to save  her.  She started to vomit up water and  bile at 2am on Tuesday  25th October and things went downhill from there.  She was getting weaker by the minute  and was unable to even sit up for long.   She vomited at 6am again and we knew she was in terrible trouble.  Her little tongue was ice cold and her  body felt hard and tense and her head was  twitching and pulling to the  left – we thought for sure she had had a  stroke or something. While I quickly got ready to get her to the doctor  she just lay on the bed with her  grannie looking at us all the  time but too weak to do anything else.  I left  her with our trusted vet and spoke to him a few times during the morning about  her condition.  Mom and I went over and over what we should do and cried  like babies at the prospect of putting her down.  Our vet suggested we  come through as soon as we could so we could be with her – my sister Tracy  also came to be with her.  When we were shown into the hospital  she was fast asleep.  This was  another sign for me because all the other animals in the hospital were barking  and crying but my little baby was too sick to be bothered.  When she saw us she wagged her  beautiful little tail but couldn’t even  get up.

I took her out of the  cage and just held her.  Her  little body was ice cold to the touch and the life was gone from her  eyes.  I couldn’t believe I had  made her lie there all morning feeling so cold and sick – now I needed to make the  decision to put her out of her  pain.  We all spoke  to her, told her how much we loved  her, that it was ok to go and that all  the other animals we had loved and  lost over the years would  all be waiting for her.  On our OK,  our vet (who was almost in tears) depressed the plunger and before our eyes,  our wonderful little dog left us.  I was absolutely devastated … I felt like my whole world was falling  apart and I could do nothing to put it back together.  We didn’t want to get another pup but our  other dog was lonely and missed her big sister so much, that we knew we  couldn’t hold out too long.  Once we were feeling  stronger, we got a little cross-collie pup … OMG, I didn’t think I  would ever love this little thing but 3 years later she has crept into my  heart so much and I Iove her more than words can say.

The last  year and a half had been so hard on us and our animals and I just wanted it to  end.  Everytime something stressed Mom out, I would panic and think the  stress was going to cause her cancer to spread – little did I realise what was  actually coming our way.

In November 2007 mom found a tiny lump in her  breast.  Surely this couldn’t be anything again, I kept thinking.  Life could not be this cruel to us.   But lo and behold it was breast cancer and so we started all over again, and  of course so did the tears and the fact that cancer had entered our lives  for a second time.  All I kept thinking was this is my mom and best  friend and how much more can she go through, but her strength is  something quite amazing.

Off we went to the  surgeon again, this time at Morningside Clinic and he said a lumpectomy would  need to be done and the sentinel  lymph nodes checked while in  theatre.  Mom had to sign a  form giving permission to remove the breast in  the event that things were more complicated when they started the  procedure.  Surgery was booked  for 10 December 2007 and the panic set  in again. What if they needed to do a mastectomy; how would mom cope living  with a colostomy and no breast.  I could not even fathom the thought … I was quite beside myself with  fear.  Mom seemed pretty relaxed – I think  she’d been through so much already that she felt numb!

When mom came out of  surgery the first thing she said was “do I still have boobs”.  Luckily  the answer was yes.  They had done the lumpectomy and the lymphs were  clear.  Yay – some good news for a change.  Now all we had to focus  on was getting mom better again.  A few days later the surgeon phoned to  say that there were still some cancerous cells that they had not managed to  get which showed up in the  biopsy and we needed to see Mom’s oncologist.  She was  booked for another 35 radiation sessions (1 per day) and it all began  again.  Luckily she did not burn as badly this time but the radiation  took everything out of her this time …  she was absolutely exhausted.

For me these  past four and a  half years have been exhausting, frightening and enlightening (mostly because I’ve learnt so much  about my own strengths, but also because I’ve been fortunate enough to have  such a bonded family who stick together no matter what).  I think  that when cancer has touched someone you love, you live with the fear of it  returning every day.  It has definitely helped being a Buddie and being able to meet and  guide people in the same situation – the biggest draw for me has been that its a forum where you can speak  freely about your fears as much as about what you’ve learnt  - knowing that I’m not alone as a  caregiver.

I have never been more proud and  honoured to be my mother’s daughter and will be by her side always and  forever.

Written by: Della  Silberman