Wednesday morning, we met with a hospice nurse from the home healthcare company.
On Friday, I took Mom to see her friendly neighborhood oncologist.
We had a lot of questions.
What were her treatment options? And what the hell was with this COUGH? What was Mom’s prognosis?
Cancer patients apparently have four treatment options available to them: surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, and oral medications. Mom is probably too weak to make it through surgery. Radiation didn’t work. Chemotherapy and oral meds would give her side effects worse than the symptoms (right now, NONE) of the actual disease.
Her prognosis? Her oncologist shrugged.
I pressed a bit.
“Are we talking on the order of ten years? Five?”
“Less than a year,” he admitted.
That was tough to hear.
I took Mom out for margaritas. We stopped at Red Robin and ordered HUGE mango margaritas (yum!) and drank to life.
We both (eventually) drained our glasses.
Life is good.