Bad news won't keep her down...

My Mom with her new laptop! The night before her Whipple Surgery. December 21, 2011

December 22, 2011, another day embedded in my head. The night before we opened our big Christmas presents from my mom so she could see us (she would be in the hospital recovering from the Whipple). Christmas was my moms FAVORITE holiday. She not only loved decorating our entire house, but she loved the joy on each individuals face when she gave them their presents. There are so many fond memories I have of my mom decorating our big christmas tree with my dad, and putting up her christmas village and carolers. She created so many Christmas traditions in my life, that I am determined to continue.

My Mom's Caroler Display Christmas 2011

 My whole family drove my mom into Brigham and Women's hospital early December 22, 2011 to be with her before her surgery. I remember waiting in the waiting room for her to be taken to pre-opp. We all listened as all the doctors came in and told us what was going to happen during the surgery. I couldn't help it, and started to tear up. It's a scary thing, when a loved one goes in for major surgery. We were told the surgery would most likely take around 11 hours. When the doctors were ready, we had to say goodbye to my mom. We all hugged and kissed, but the thing I remember the most was the crying. Right then and there, I knew how scared my mom was. I cried as I hugged her and told her how much I loved her. She told me "If anything happens, make sure you take care of the house". I told her I'd see her in recovery. Then she was wheeled down the hallway and my family and I went to the surgery waiting room. Time passed so slowly. Before I knew it, a woman came over to us and said the surgeon will be down to talk to you if you could follow me into this room. We all looked at each other puzzled. How could this be? She has only been in the operating room for about 4 hours! What is going on? We took our seats in a small conference room and waited for my moms surgeon. He came in and looked so upset. He started explaining a bunch of different things that I cannot remember exactly, but the one thing I do remember him saying is "We couldn't get the tumor, it was too close to a main artery". Once again a feeling of pure anger and sadness swept over my body. We all cried as my Dad asked the toughest question of all, "How long do you think she has?". The doctor said every patient is different but most likely 6-12 months. 6-12 months?! This is my mom, my best friend, and I am hearing I only have 6-12 months with her?! I was crushed, but put on a fighter face for my mom, because that is what she taught me. 

When my mom woke up in recovery she looked around then up at her surgeon and my Dad and before the doctor could tell her anything she said "Sh**". Her sense of humor was evident even in the worst of times. She knew right then and there that they could not remove the tumor. From that point on though, she fought through the hardships of her aborted whipple, and was determined to get home before New Years Eve.  She wanted to rest, because she knew she was going to have to fight even harder now. Her strength once again was shining through this horrible time in her life. I would always ask her do you want to keep fighting, and her response would always be, "You gotta do what you gotta do"She made it home a few days before New Years Eve another goal to check off her list. She did it, she got home from the hospital, and began to recover. Before we knew it she was out shopping (something that she loved to do). She went back to work, and then went back to Dana Farber and mapped out a new plan with her oncologist. She was ready to fight. She was ready to find a new goal. She was not going to let Pancreatic Cancer define who she was...

“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.” –  Vincent Van Gogh