Cancer Qualified!

Thank you, Dhashinie Naidoo, for sharing your story as a daughter whose mother had colorectal cancer.  How did your mother’s cancer diagnosis impact your life?

My mother’s cancer diagnosis had an unexpected effect on my life and not just from an emotional state but also because there was not enough time. I didn’t know how to get through it, especially when her cancer returned. The first time we were all ready to fight it. We were prepared for her treatments, and there were practical things we could do to help her along the way. My mum had a complete hysterectomy, she had radiation treatment, and her doctors were confident that it would clear the cancer completely. We felt strong as a family that we dealt with it. And then it returned, and this time, it was colon cancer!

When she and my dad told my brothers and me about it, I was in disbelief. She asked why I was quiet; I didn’t want to express my anger at the news from the doctor. She told my mum,” Go on with your life and pretend this never happened because you’re cured. Everything was clear!’ I sat there questioning how it went from that to this? I was confused and scared; I didn’t say anything because it would have just come out in me crying.  I had to process it.

Every day was a different day; some days, she felt good, and other days, she couldn’t get out of bed. I wanted to spend all my time with her, talking and caring for her, but I had to go to work, and part of my work meant I had to travel. Work kept me sane; it gave me something else to do and consider other than my mum and how we will cope. Thankfully, I had a supportive work system that helped me be there for my parents through remote work and flexible hours.

Chemo days were tough; I worked in the morning then, sat with my mum during her session, and attended lectures in the evening. I considered dropping out during those six months, but I’m glad I didn’t. 

We had great support from family, neighbours and friends. Chemo days, doctor appointments, visitors, days she didn’t feel well, work, phone calls from family and friends, and answering questions about her health, and I was in a newish relationship. It was busy. 

I struggled to be her gatekeeper. Sometimes she didn’t want to see or speak to people, and I had to tell them she was sleeping or she was in the shower. 

My mum resented how people felt sorry for her, and her visitors would cry because they were sad that this had happened to her. However, my mum was so strong at times; I think that is why she kept so positive and always had that attitude of “I will defeat this.”  

We all dealt with my mum’s diagnosis differently; my dad researched everything he could to heal her. She tried juices, moringa powder and apricot kernels. My mum said her grandsons were her medicine – they would visit her after school and pretend to be her doctor and heal her. It was heartwarming how much love they shared. 

When my mother was too fragile to help herself, I took care of her personal hygiene. Initially, it was uncomfortable for both of us, but we both became stronger, and it got easier. The nurses taught me how to roll her in bed with a bed sheet and test the water’s temperature. My mum’s body temperature would drop drastically, and my aunt and I jumped into bed with her to warm her up. It was at those times that I felt so helpless. I was becoming cancer qualified!!! 

Sometimes my mother would zone out or just stare almost past us – like she didn’t know who we were. She collapsed on her way to the bathroom and had carpet burns on her face for weeks. 

When her hair fell out, she said she looked like Smeagol from Lord of the Rings, so the whole family decided to shave off our hair. She was overwhelmed by this gesture. After shaving her head, she said she felt lighter. 

After her chemo cycle, the doctor suggested another course of chemo. My parents just took the doctor at her word and accepted the treatment and the doctor’s plan. My older brother suggested meeting with the doctor to talk because my mum was not improving. We found out that her cancer was progressively getting worse at that point. 

He explained that the cancer had progressed and that we needed to make the next few months memorable. We didn’t know the time frame, but we knew that she probably wouldn’t see her next birthday. 

My brother and I went to the follow-up appointment with my parents, where they heard the doctor report that her cancer had progressed to a state where they knew my mother didn’t have much time left. Yet, the doctor did not say it; even at that point, she suggested we try another round of chemotherapy. So why couldn’t the doctor just be frank? 

Later we met with a hospice nurse who discussed what steps we should take as a family to deal with my mum’s pending death and what my mum should do to prepare herself. These included her will and funeral arrangements. We had to have some tough conversations as a family; however, we honoured her with what she wanted in the end.

I spent the last night with my mum in the hospital before she passed away. I felt privileged to have spent her last moment with her. I remember the feeling of it being us, just her and me always.

It was a difficult journey, but it was also a journey where I evolved from being her daughter to being a mother to my own mother. Our roles were reversed, and neither of us liked it, but it had to be so. I always saw her as a strong woman, yet in those last months, I learned that my superhuman mum was also a woman that was vulnerable and had many fears. But she stayed calm and loving right till the end. 

When someone says they have cancer, or they’ve overcome cancer, or there is this miracle thing that can cure cancer, my immediate thought is f*** off! I feel it’s not true, and maybe I don’t have all my facts, but we did everything everyone told us to do – the outcome didn’t change for us. 

It was difficult for me to find something uplifting during that time. I was in reaction and protection mode, and I didn’t see any light. But now, I know the strength, endurance, and grace this experience has afforded me.

My mum said no one in the entire world would love you like your mother, and I was always assured of that throughout my life. That’s what I miss the most now, her love!

Thank you for sharing! We all benefit from you sharing your experience.

To share your story, please contact us at reception@treatingcancer.co.za