Now What?

Mom's appetite was slowly starting to return after nearly 2 years of not enjoying food, which had really bothered her since she loves good food. She got settled in at home, and my dad took very good care of her. Zoe hasn't left her side much either.

The kids were there daily visiting and helping out, and Charlene and Marlene came over with a gorgeous orchid and some of Charlene's homemade wedding soup. Char has also promised to make some of her homemade Pasta e Fagioli for us.

Cards started coming in the mail every day from friends and family. The phone calls, texts, and emails with get well wishes put such a big smile on her face. Hannah made dinner one night, and Amber Albert brought over delicious food from Pita Land on another.

It was starting to feel like there was some semblance of normalcy.

The next days were spent calling the surgeon's office to inquire about her pathology results.

I won't bore you with the details, but the office wouldn't release the results over the phone. Even though the results were in.

Even though she wanted them over the phone, no matter how bad they were. I get it. The surgeon "doesn't like to do that." But what about the patient who prefers that? Like my mom.

This type of control I've watched healthcare providers exhibit is maddening. Shouldn't what the patient wants come first?

Fortunately, we were able to obtain her pathology report elsewhere prior to the surgeon contacting us, and the results were heartbreaking:

Stage IV metastatic colon cancer.

The primary tumor was a 6.5 cm moderately-differentiated adenocarcinoma of the ileocecal junction with a metastatic omental nodule, as well as a tumor deposit, lymphovascular invasion, and perineural invasion.

Pathologic Stage Classification: T3N1M1

If you're curious about how they stage colon cancer, this PDF is the best example I have found: https://cancerstaging.org/references-tools/quickreferences/Documents/ColonMedium.pdf

This image shows the type and degree of cancer:

We eventually met with the surgeon (who still never said the word "cancer" out loud), and we made the decision to move her care to UPMC Hillman Cancer Center.