It was December 2000, two days before Christmas, when my mother had major surgery to remove a large group of lymph nodes and the malignant melanoma that had spread to them (the pathology was to have come back early in the New Year, however we never found out the extent of her tumour load because the cytology department lost her slides).

To commemorate the surgery, our family had t-shirts made up. T-shirts had always been a way for us to bond when undertaking various adventures or coming together for big family events. For this occasion, “Mel’s Pit Crew” (due to the location of the tumours near her armpit) was embroidered on the left chest of our shirts. We all wore them proudly to signify our love and present a united front in caring for Mom.

Her recovery was painful, but she rebounded with more lively vigour than before. In May of 2001 I became engaged and my husband and I were wed on September 30th. One week after an absolutely idyllic wedding where mom’s feet never touched the ground, a metastasis was found. The oncologists at our cancer agency recommended taking a vacation to Hawaii because there wasn’t more to be done. We decided to take the cancer to task and find a surgeon who could rid my mother of the growing metastasis. We found that surgeon John Wayne Cancer agency in Santa Monica California, over 1200 miles from home. His name was Dr. Donald Morton. Within one week we were down in California and my mom was operated on.

Mom left LA with a few more scars, a positive mantra t-shirt, and a renewed will to not just live but to live her truths, her wishes and live out her dreams. Following her recovery, we searched for a systemic treatment for which my mom was eligible and that carried proven weight in the medical establishment. While doing so, my mom adopted Chinese medicine and vitamin therapy regimens as well. Before we were able to make a decision regarding treatment, my mothers breathing became compromised and a CT revealed new growths in the same region as was previously operated on. We travelled back to Los Angeles to speak with Doctor Morton and he told us that the new tumours were inoperable and that was now time for the big guns and heavy artillery. The following day we met with Dr. Piro, a chemical oncologist who, along with other doctors in his group, pioneered biochemotherapy treatment; one of the most toxic treatments in the battle against cancer. We promptly moved down to Santa Monica, and together with my aunt and uncle and at times my husband, resided in the Best Western and later a family friend’s apartment.

During this time my mother was a cheerleader, never conforming to the norm (as that was never her way), my mom went blazing through treatment with hot pink and purple wigs or deely-boppers, as well as stuffed talismans. The biochemo had stolen her strength but, it could not touch her lust for the possibility of another day to be shared, her insatiable desire to learn and to explore. There was never a day that went by without laughter, artful discussion and love.

After the four months in Santa Monica passed with much suffering, my mother was rendered NED. The doctors and our support team along with my mom decided to continue with treatment to cement the positive effects of the biochemo, and we subsequently went down to LA every month for half a year, followed by every second month for the next 6 months. During this time, mom and I mused over what had helped her endure the over the past year. When we reconciled our time, we realized that through our experiences we had created a workable blueprint for living with chronic illness with dignity, laughter and a strong sense of personal health advocacy. We had in fact created a framework that could help others engender support, encourage positivism, foster open dialogue between caregivers, medical professionals and among loved ones.

“Choosing Joy” was born. In January of 2003. Mom and I developed two products based on our experiences as patient & caregiver and as members of a team.

We had finished the prototypes for the two products as my mom was due to go down for her last treatment. April 24^th marked a milestone for my mother. It was her 50^th birthday and the first day of what was to be her final treatment. Mom felt lethargic that day…. tests were preformed and the cancer had returned.

Mom’s weeks turned into five months (to the day) of the last diagnosis. She passed away on Veterans Day, also known as Remembrance Day. She had willed herself to live and had moved mountains in that short time, shifting the consciousness of many along the way.

We had years in those months and mom triumphed through the pain to follow through on her commitments as a mother, friend and soul mate to me. She danced through each day courageously, always saying how lucky she was and how beautiful life is.

After four years of being my mother’s full-time caregiver, I am filled with gratitude for the lessons and courage she shared with me. Today along with my husband, we are determined to share my mother’s positivism and vision with others, creating a living legacy for mom. Choosing Joy will reach others and they too will then share a piece of my mother’s spirit.

Thanks for reading and welcome to my little piece of cyberspace.

xo,

Shira Gold