It occurred to me over the course of my three-day weekend that I hadn't written a Caregiver's Diary in quite some time, and when I researched it, I found that the last one was at the end of March, where I wrote about the evenings mom and I were enjoying with "Mr. C" (our male cardinals who were and are still coming around more as spring kicks into high gear).
It certainly wasn't intentional, but it was one of those things where time got away from me. Plus, there wasn't much of significance to report, because we've been in that "in between" time - the time where you don't have to worry about oncology appointments for a while, and you settle back into a normalish routine and try not to think too far ahead.
After Mom completed her chemotherapy treatments in March 2023, she was put on a schedule of appointments every three months to do lab work to check for signs of possible recurrence, to see if the numbers looked good, and didn't show anything concerning. And once a year, she has had CT scans. About a year or so ago, her doctor changed things up and put her on the every-four-month plan, with scans still to be done once a year (in the summer).
SEE ALSO (VIP): Caregiver's Diary Part 79: Praying for Calm and Strength Ahead of a Big Day
We've learned to appreciate what that four-month "lull" in oncology appointments brings to both of us. Not that we don't worry about what the future holds with those doctor's office visits, but the four months give us a little breathing room to just rest in the moment without overly obsessing about what's in store when the next oncologist visit rolls around.
She's had other appointments since her last oncology office visit: A dentist's appointment and one for a routine check-up with her primary care physician, and I'm pleased to report that the lab work done with that visit didn't show anything abnormal.
The person who has created the most cause for concern between the last oncology check-up and the next one has been yours truly, between the nocturnal panic attack issues (which, thank God, haven't happened in about a month) and my car accident (fortunately, Mom was not in the car with me when that took place).
We've still got several weeks to go before the next set of scans and lab work has to get done, and we're a few weeks past the shocking turn of events that had my car and the glass door of the UPS store getting intimately acquainted, so we've been recalibrating since that unfortunate experience and settling back into "don't worry, be happy" mode, with some success.
This has involved slowing down during the course of the daily grind to treasure those blissful moments of normalcy, where the only things you worry about are whether that package you've been eagerly awaiting arrives in a timely manner and whether or not you can make that last half a gallon of milk last until you have the time for a grocery store run.
RELATED (VIP): Caregiver's Diary Part 81: Blissful Moments of Normalcy
One such blissful moment happened earlier this week, when mom and I were in the kitchen making breakfast. During the work week, we usually keep it simple. We'll either do something like cereal with a cup of fruit or a bagel with cream cheese and a banana. This week was no exception to that.
Mom had finished putting the cream cheese on her bagel and had poured her milk when she turned to me and asked me if I was going to be much longer. Because I usually help her with hers before I start on mine, I told her I'd be a few minutes, but that she could go ahead and get settled back into the recliner.
"Do you need me for anything else?" she asked, beginning to turn to go back into the living room.
"Yes, there is something else I need," I informed her, trying to suppress a smile.
When she turned back to ask me what she could do to help, I told her to just stand there and look pretty, and then I kissed her on the cheek.
Lemme tell ya, I don't think anything on this planet can cause my mom's face and eyes to light up more than when she's getting love and affection from my sisters and me. We have photo evidence of this, as her eyes are practically shining in photographs of us together. My mom is beautiful, of course, but especially so when she's got that "motherly glow" where she's peacefully content with what's going on around her.
It's a look I've seen many times before from her, but it takes on added significance considering the health issues she's dealt with in her golden years, and considering the central role I have played in her care, which, as any caregiver will tell you, can be quite the adjustment - especially in the cases where there is a role reversal going on between family members.
I'm so grateful for the blessing of these precious moments. Nothing and no one lasts forever, of course, but that's precisely why making and holding on to such memories is so important, and why we should try to do it and cherish them for as long as we can.
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