Accepting the Diagnosis

August 2023. Sitting outside on the cement porch stairs of my parents home, I allowed myself a moment to let the sun warm my face and body. Shelby, my dog, found a place to sun herself in the grass as she usually likes to do.

Then my parents arrived back from clinic with my aunt and uncle who were visiting. "Well, your mom has JC virus, Heather." There were not many details after that as either no one explained this to my dad or maybe it was just hard to understand and accept in the moment.

My mom had been diagnosed with Leukemia in 2018. Two years prior to this, in the fall of 2016, my brother-in-law had also been diagnosed with Leukemia, but a different form. We said goodbye to him in 2019.

I wanted to face whatever this new reality meant for caring for my mom. As I read, I began to realize the John Cunningham virus was the root cause of my mother's drooping facial muscles and the other stroke-like symptoms she was experiencing.

Given all that I researched and read, I realized we were living out the final days with my mother. I had sensed earlier in the year that I would be saying goodbye to her, but now it was becoming a reality.

What happened in the weeks after the diagnosis really puzzled me. A physical therapist was sent to the house to help my mother with balance and walking. Clinic appointments continued to be scheduled. At times it felt like giving false hope that my mother would improve. To be clear, I am not judging the intentions of the health professionals that made these decisions. But, her diagnosis made it clear there would be no improvement, only further deterioration. Nothing more could be done.

Then came the last day of clinic. I was sitting next to her as we waited to speak to the physician's assistant. My father had decided to wait in the car for us. I think he just needed a break that day.

Up until this point and previous clinic visits, no one had initiated a conversation about hospice care.

It felt awkward to have to do this in the clinic with other patients around receiving treatment while my mother and I waited for counts from her blood draws.

"I'm sorry. This is hard to bring up, but do we need to discuss with you or the doctor in-home hospice care, given my mother's JC virus diagnosis?" I think I said something like that. The very kind physician's assistant responded, "yes, you're right and I will have a representative come and speak to you."

Gut-wrenching.

"Hey dad, we are just going to be a while longer because we are waiting to speak with someone about in-home hospice options."

Later, I pushed my mother in her wheelchair out of the clinic with tears filling both of our eyes.

That afternoon I called the hospice referrals that had been given to us. I knew what options were available and how it all worked.

October 14, 2023. My (now) husband and I were at a Christian apologetics conference. I received a call from my dad that she had fallen and gotten much worse. We were back to their home in a couple of hours. In-home hospice was set up. All physical therapy appointments cancelled.

I remember the day she said to me, "Heather, do I really only have 6 months to live?"

"Mom, have you been reading online?" We exchanged a moment of shared sadness, but in a strange way a little relief to talk about it together. "I don't know, mom. But, I'm going to be with you and we are going to live these days we have together."

There are traumas, sufferings, and difficulties in life that we have no or very little control over. However, by accepting reality in those moments, I believe there are solutions or paths forward we can find to help us navigate what we inevitably have to face. I believe this is God's gift of common grace to us. My mother's diagnosis was outside of my control. However, because I accepted and faced it for what it was, I, and my family, were able to manage the already deeply emotional circumstance we found ourselves in with dignity and less chaos, especially for my mother in her final days.

The complete Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

Courage to change the things I can;

And wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will;

So that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him

Forever and ever in the next.

(Prayer attributed to Reinhold Neibuhr, 1892-1971)