Patricia Hammock

Caregiving: The Blessings and Challenges for Which I was Unprepared

By Patricia M. Hammock, M.Ed./AET

I remember exactly where I was and exactly what I was doing when I got the call. It was the spring of 2012; I was happily working for an awesome executive at a lauded graduate institution. I was exactly halfway through my master’s degree program. I was working fifty to sixty hours per week and excelling in my degree program. I was on a roll towards my preferred professional future.

It was rare for my mother to call me during the week because she knows she raised a workaholic. She called on a Tuesday evening and I was still at work. She said she would just talk to me the next day. When she called on Wednesday, I had just left the office when she uttered the words, “I have what the doctor’s say is inoperable lung cancer. They say I will not survive and need to put my affairs in order.” My world stopped.

I don’t know where I found the words, but I said, “Oh, my God! I’ve got to come get you.” I lived in Tennessee; my mother lived in Illinois. I told her to start packing. I was coming to get her and bring her to Tennessee where we have world-renowned cancer centers. I told her that I would begin researching cancer doctors and would be there in two weeks to help her finish packing.

You see, as an only child, I am all she has. Although I was scared out of my mind and didn’t have a clue how I was going to do what I had just committed to, it was my honor and duty to care for my mother. If it was true that she was going to die of cancer, it would not be because she and I did not put up a fight, and it would not be because I did not do everything within my power to save her life.

The following day, I notified my supervisor, who had a large, diverse unit and multi-million-dollar budget to manage. She was a saint and offered nothing but compassion and understanding. When I said, “I have to do what I can for my mother. I understand if you need to make a different choice regarding your support team.” She said, “Why would I do that?” Talk about grace and mercy!

I researched and found the best cancer doctors in the city, Dr. Anthony F. Greco, Oncologist and Thoracic Surgeon Dr. John Roberts, (now retired) with Tennessee Oncology and the Sarah Cannon Cancer Institute. I applied for and received intermittent FMLA. I also reached out to the Gilda’s Club of Nashville and found a cancer survivor who met with me so that I could ask all the questions I needed to regarding being a caregiver to a cancer patient. She was a young African American woman who had survived breast cancer. I also reached out to a psychologist I knew, because I was a mess and needed to work on myself so that I could be strong for my mother.

Two weeks later, I was in Illinois packing what turned into the equivalent of an 18-wheeler to move my mother to Tennessee. We arrived here on a Saturday in May 2012. My mother was in treatment the following Monday. We were fortunate that Dr. Greco was not convinced my mother’s case was terminal. We had hope.

My mother underwent five months of intravenous chemotherapy to shrink her tumor before having a bilateral lung resection, which essentially cut her in half diagonally from shoulder to abdomen to remove the diseased lung and affected ribs. She was hospitalized for 15 days following the surgery. The thoracic surgeon believed they got all cancer, but I was more scared than ever. Did I have the capacity to care for my mother in my home as she recovered? What if my ignorance somehow hurt or killed her?

I had a full-on panic attack leading to an emergency room visit the week before her surgery. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want my mother to know how scared I was. I was in my 40s. I had provided a doctor’s education for my daughter and was then turning my focus toward myself and my future. Caring for an ill parent was not something I was prepared to do. Not because I was unwilling, but because I simply didn’t know-how. “ As mature adults, we believe once we get the babies grown and gone, it is our time! Where is the book, class, course, training that prepares us for caregiving” Patricia

As mature adults, we believe once we get the babies grown and gone, it is our time to shine and invest in ourselves. School prepares you for work. There are parenting classes you can take before your children are born. There is pre-marital counseling. Where is the book, class, course, training that prepares us to be a patient advocate, disease researcher; to make financial and life and death decisions for our parents, often times with little to no prior notice? It is not something most of us even think about until we are impacted and by then, you have to learn these roles on the fly.

I did my best to be attentive and patient. I helped change dressings. I helped with showers. I cooked. I cleaned. I shopped. I transported. I took notes to ask the doctors before and after each appointment. I made sure she had her favorite, healthy foods. I was my mother’s health care advocate to assure she received the level of attention I thought appropriate.

There came a time in my mother’s recovery that she was well enough for me to return to work for a few hours per day. I would prepare her breakfast and lunch before leaving and pack them in Tupperware, so she only had to warm them up. Her good friend was willing to come sit with her while I was away. I had stocked a small refrigerator, microwave, and hot plate/coffee server so that she didn’t even have to traverse the stairs in my two-story home in my absence. I did everything I knew to do in order to help my mother achieve “the best possible outcome” (doctor-speak).

I was not the perfect caregiver, but I knew I had done the best that I could in the most loving ways I could muster. I knew that I had demonstrated for my daughter and grandchildren what caring for a loved one in needs to look like. I knew I had honored my mother as she so richly deserved.

I eventually completed my master’s in Education/Adult Education and Training, graduating in 2014 with a near 4.0 GPA. I was back at work full-time, and had been promoted, but attended each follow-up appointment as my mother underwent the quarterly scans to determine if there was any cancer recurrence. Doctors had told us that if the lung cancer returned, it would likely return to the brain. We were both very scared for a very long time.

In 2019, my mother was declared not only in remission but cured! From “put your affairs in order” to “cured”