Waiting in Silence….

How is it the world seems to keep on turning when for one person it stands still?

It seems so strange to hear about snow days and sledding parties when my world is limited to this house and the slow creep of death.  Outside the snow has fallen and the world seems fresh and new.  Inside the air sits still and heavy.

We wait for the good moments… we soldier through the bad.

I lie in my mother’s bed, now stashed in the basement to make way for a hospital bed in her room.  I put off going upstairs for fear of learning what news the night has brought.

When I do venture forth I find myself hesitating to go into what I find myself now mentally calling ‘the room.’  My whole purpose of being away from my kids is to be here now, to savour what little time I have, but the reality is crushing.

It somehow seems easier to sit in the kitchen lingering over a cup of coffee and let the hired caregiver take over.

It feels selfish… but it also feels necessary.

I have come to the conclusion that cancer is the manifestation of evil in this world.  I have never believed in the devil but somehow now he… or it… is flexing its forked tail in the mutating cells of my mother’s brain and bones and organs.

Cancer zeros in on those things we hold most dear and strips them from us.  With my father, it was his integrity and the sense of security he offered his family.  In his final months we were warned the tumours could cause aggression and seizures and we lived with fear… fear of the man who gave us life and protected us.  For my mother it has taken language.  First it stripped her of the long passion of reading and now it is taking even the basic ability to tell us what she needs.  Cancer is evil incarnate.

I have often found writing will bring me solace, that the words will bring me to some new understanding and perhaps bring peace.  There is no peace this evening.  There is only morphine for my mother and the quiet of the waiting for me.

I sit in the silent house knowing someday soon the silence will be permanent.

This entry was posted in cancer. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Waiting in Silence….

  1. Anonymous says:

    The Silence is what your mother really is. She is about to discover Eternal Peace. You may rest easy. All is as it should be.

  2. Hilary says:

    Oh Megan, this post just strikes a chill in my heart. I can relate to so much of what you say, though I was eighteen when we kept a similar watch and a bit insulated from what it would come to mean. I'm sure your mother is comforted by your presence, even if she can't tell you any more. You'll find those hidden resources of strength, and take it a few minutes at a time. These words feel such shallow comfort, but I just wanted you to know I'm thinking about you.

  3. Lisa MacColl says:

    Cancer sucks. That isn't eloquent or polite, but it is true.Cancer robbed my private, modest mother-in-law of dignity and the right to go to the bathroom by herself. A woman whose husband of 53 years had only seen her naked twice was being bathed and changed by strangers.Tears welled in my eyes reading your post. I chose not to be at my mother-in-law's bedside when she passed, using our daughter as an excuse. Truth was, I didn't want my last memories of her to be that last breath. It haunts my husband.May God send you strength, moments to cry when you need to (I cry in the shower) and the love and support of friends, family and strangers in the days to come. Hugs and prayers.Sometimes that's all that's left.lisa

  4. Cin says:

    I'm so so sorry, Megan.I believe in Satan. I sure do. And disease is a manifestaton of evil — I believe that too, as well as believing it is an organic, scientifically explained process. Things can be both.I'm praying for you during this awful time. We are NOT made for death — that's why it hurts so much. But we are made for eternity. You will hear her voice again. You will laugh together again. I know it sounds impossible right now.May your father be with you both during this time. May God be with you. And may you find some solace in writing and in the prayers of friends near and far.I love you, honey.

Leave a Reply to Hilary Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *