A bag of tissues

I woke up this morning in a cheerful mood because for the first time this week, I got a full night's rest. My mom already left the house for a full day of fun in Japantown with her support group buddies, so I allowed myself to imagine that if she were still at home, she would tell me that had gotten a full night of uninterrupted sleep and that her cough was not bothering her so much today. I spent the rest of the morning in a good mood, pretending that things would be better soon, but for some reason, in the middle of watching "Easy A," I decided to walk into her room. My mom always keeps a plastic bag at her bedside to hold the used tissues that she coughs her phlegm into. This was the first thing I set my eyes on, and seeing the bag full knocked me back to reality. I estimated that there were about 100 crumpled tissues in there, which means that she probably woke up 5 or 6 times throughout the night and spent half of her 8 hours in bed laboriously coughing up liquid buildup in her chest. Alone. No one to hold her hand, no one to comfort her. She wouldn't let me sleep beside her because she didn't want to disturb my rest. Now, my heart hurts because I remember that every additional tissue in the bag means that cancer cells have taken over and destroyed another centimeter of my mom's lungs. My heart hurts because there's nothing I can do to help her.

I hope mommy is having a good time in Japantown. I hope she will come home with a bright smile and good news that she did not cough so much today.

Please pray for our appointment with Dr. Jahan this Wednesday. We will be getting out CT scan results and discussing the next treatment option.