So, mom has at last finished her treatment and is now considered eligible for the liver transplant list. Honestly, I'm so proud of her. When we first learned that she had cirrhosis, we just knew that her pride prevent her from getting the help she needed and making it through therapy to the transplant list on the other side. But she tossed her pride aside and managed to plow through. She's told me at least five times that the whole experience has been an education and that she knows more about drugs from group therapy than she ever thought she would.
Anyway, her doctor told her that her numbers were fantastic last week. But it turns out that the lab forgot to do a blood test. They did the blood test and it wasn't great. So she's going in for an MRI tomorrow. It's possible that she has developed liver cancer.
I'm trying to keep an open mind. After all, we expected the worst when we first started this crazy journey and she shocked the hell out of us all. Maybe this is just a blip. Or something that will hasten her eligibility for a liver.
If I know nothing else, I do know that we're lucky. I do consider it a gift that, for the first time I can remember, my mom has stayed lucid and so very, very normal. I haven't spent most of my time gently reminding her that we've had the same conversation before or calming her down. I haven't felt compelled to ask her if she's really drinking water. I haven't gone home over a weekend and spent time mentally tallying how many drinks she may have had by finishing half of a Sam's Club-sized bottle of gin in one day.
We are lucky. The kids weren't afraid of her embraces the last time we visited, she didn't pick a fight with my husband. And if this does turn out to be something more sinister than an anomaly, there may be time to fix it, fight it and/or get ready to say goodbye. You can't know what the future holds, I guess. But you can appreciate the good stuff while you've got it.
