In Focus

Much has happened since I first shared about my mom’s cancer returning.

After 10 days of radiation treatment for the tumor in her brain, she rang the bell on April 22. Though it was a joyous moment for us, it was not the end; that was just the first step.

Once her blood tests returned to determine the best course of action, Mom began chemotherapy on May 12, as the cancer is also in her lungs and neck. The treatment will occur every three weeks for 4-6 months. In July, she will have a follow-up CT scan to see how the treatment went for the brain tumor.

We encountered a hiccup last weekend that resulted in her hospitalization. After the first chemotherapy treatment, her exhaustion and constant sleeping didn’t raise any concerns. She was experiencing the normal side effects, spending nearly all day in bed. While I worked on clearing out the house of years of accumulated items, she slept. However, I began to notice some troubling signs. She managed to cook hot dogs for my boyfriend and me after we spent the day cleaning out the garage. Later that night, she reheated leftover hot dogs for me, forgetting that she had already done that. It seemed like brain fog, I was thinking probably a side effect of the chemo.

The next day, she was acting a little strangely and kept dropping dishes. We went to the store to buy her plastic dishes, thinking it was just weakness from the chemotherapy. The following day, it became evident that something was definitely wrong.

At dinner, it was just me, her, and my boyfriend. She seemed confused about how to eat her pulled pork sandwich and kept talking about a movie she was working on, arguing with actors, pointing to nothing as if there was a pile of scripts, and claiming there was a kitten swimming in a bowl on the floor. She kept getting up to look for people who weren’t there.

When I asked her if she knew who she was talking to, she had no idea who my boyfriend was and she thought I was her sister. This was more than just chemo-induced brain fog, so we decided to go to the ER. Apparently, she thought there was some animal hiding by her feet in the car. At least we made it to the hospital. She knew we were at the hospital and which hospital it was.

As I spoke to the nurse about her delusions and confusion, saying she didn’t even recognize me, Mom interjected, “There were a lot of people there, Trini.” I glanced at the nurse, and confirmed that there weren’t any people there. Mom told an elaborate story about a big dinner party put on by the city that I had taken her to, none of which had happened. At least the nurses understood the extent of her confusion in person.

I then went through her medical history. The last time she acted this way was due to sepsis. She has a brain tumor, has undergone radiation treatment that can affect her brain, and just had chemotherapy—take your pick. Initial tests didn’t indicate anything out of the ordinary, except for some kidney issues that might be due to dehydration. Given that she is also a cardiac patient, they decided to keep her overnight and give her fluids.

She was resistant and didn’t want to stay, even arguing with me about it. While they took her for a CT scan, I explained the situation to the nurses and asked whether I should wait or leave as she seemed to remain combative. At that moment, a nurse began bringing Mom back to her room, and the nurses quickly pointed me to a corner, allowing me to exit through the back door.

Mom ended up staying in the hospital for two nights to monitor her levels and watch her kidneys and heart as they rehydrated her.

She’s back to her normal self now, although she carries water with her and stays more hydrated.

It’s astonishing how quickly someone can become dehydrated and how it affects the brain. This was just the first week after her first chemotherapy treatment, and it looks like we may have a long and trying summer ahead.