With bated breath

624 U/ml.

My heart sank as I stared at my mother’s latest CA125 lab result. Three months back (after her sixth chemo), we had an encouraging 45 U/ml from a pre-chemo count of 4000 U/ml.

The cancer cells do not waste time, I thought. A few days ago, my sister sent me a message. “She has to undergo chemotherapy again.”

The cancer cells are active, says the doctor. In my heart, I wished he said, “cancer is in remission” instead.

Three months. She only had three months of reprieve from the effects of the potent medicines. Now, she goes back to the hospital and takes in doses of chemo again. Will her body respond as positively as the last cycle? Can her body sustain another round of strong medications?

I think my mind went blank when I got the confirmation of my mother’s next cycle of chemotherapy. The same blank feeling I got each time I hear updates of my father’s condition during the two days that he was in ICU. (that was just a few months back!)

But in the privacy of my room, I give myself a chance to feel, to cry. To release the heaviness and take in fresh doses of strength. The next few months will be times of … what..? I really don’t know. Day by day. Morning by morning, I just need to take things one at a time. Each day, we are given grace that is sufficient for today . Admittedly, there are certain moments that I lose composure and go through moments of doubting. But I remember a verse from the Bible: “who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?”. No one really. Tomorrow is another day. I cling tightly to God’s comforting arms. I brace myself.

Postscript: We actually got news of my mother’s latest tumor marker test (CA 125) a few weeks back. I guess, I try hard to make myself feel that things are simply routine. Many times I wish that my days will just take usual ho-hum route. My form of denial. But no, life is far from routine.