My Mom's cancer is Cancer...

"Cancer sucks!" What a great tag line or slogan for organizations trying to raise money for cancer research. On October 24, 2012, I finally understood the real meaning of "Cancer sucks."

Cancer sucks because as I drove along Wisconsin Highway 23 on my way to La Crosse for a graduate class, I called home to check in with my Mom like I always do when driving cross-state. My Mom had had a PET scan earlier in the week to verify the success of her recently-completed chemotherapy. Normally, my Dad calls right away with the results, but he didn't call, so I thought I could talk to my Mom and get the results at the same time. When he answered, I immediately heard the catch in his voice.

Cancer sucks because before I could even ask any questions, Dad handed the phone to my mom who, using all of her training as a cancer registrar, coldly and clinically explained to me that even though she had undergone chemotherapy for four months, new cancer had appeared in her lung and near her belly button. Since the last round of chemotherapy had nearly killed her (possibly triggering a mid-summer stroke), the doctors could not treat her new cancer.

[When Mom first called in June, with news of her diagnosis, she made it seem like a small hurdle to "leap." I trusted her experience as a cancer registrar, so when she said she had a life expectancy of 6-12 months, and if the treatment went well she had a 20% chance of lasting five years, I know she knew the narrow odds. Six-to-twelve months. That's what Mom said. What did I hear? "Five years." My wife has always accused me of having selective hearing. Guilty. And in that moment, the only words I wanted to hear from her were "Five years."]

Cancer sucks because it leaves my mom crying on the phone begging my forgiveness because she had smoked all her life and couldn't stop, even when her own mother died of emphysema in 1999.

Cancer sucks because it drains the strength from my Dad, who works so hard every day to help my Mom function. He looks so haggard and worn right now.

Cancer sucks because it fills me with regret for all the opportunities I passed up to visit Mom and Dad, so I could instead grade student papers or attend education conferences, or worse - just sit at home and "recharge."

Cancer sucks because it reminds me (almost too late) that I am a man, a husband, a father...and a son. And, as a son, all I can do at this point is give my parents what I never could give them before - time.

I have never felt as exhausted, stressed out, or helpless as I have during these last few weeks of FMLA time. And now that Mom's cancer is Cancer, I finally know what matters in life. Tired is temporary.

Cancer sucks......because it sucks.