Through the Eyes of a Daughter
I began writing this part of Lillian's story in the same perspective as I did when describing their life in China and the United States, but I found I couldn't emotionally distance myself adequately enough to convey how really strong my mom was. I struggled to decide where to begin, so I will begin at the point where my dad's health was beginning to fail. As I had documented in Tim's story, he suffered a major health setback in 2014, from which he never fully recovered. Because he had difficulty breathing at Flagstaff's higher elevation, they closed up their Paradise home and moved down to Phoenix permanently. For my mom, the decision was difficult; she had to leave the first house they had built together (where all of us children grew up), she had to learn how to drive in a much bigger city, she left her lifelong friends, and she had to leave those activities that she loved; Tai Chi, learning English, mah jong with friends, and her gardening. However, even though she struggled with the changes, she put her husband first, which she had done throughout their entire marriage. Taking care of my dad was not easy, even though he was a brilliant, intelligent man, he had a hot temper, and being forced to rely on somebody else made him even grouchier. Over the next years, my mom created a new life for herself while taking care of a difficult husband with extreme patience and love. Towards the last part of my dad's life, he was in and out of hospitals. On the last visit, the doctors told us there was nothing left for them to do, my dad was dying and he only had days to live. They gave my mom the decision to take him to a hospice facility or take him home under hospice care. She decided to take him home, knowing full well the burden of care that it would entail. As he slowly failed, my mom never stopped; she helped him end his days as peacefully as she could. Jennifer, my mom, and I saw him through to the end.
A Different Life
When my dad passed away in January 2017, my mom was at a loss. For her entire marriage, she had taken care of the home and my dad. As she surfaced from her grief, the decision was made for her to move into a smaller place; the Scottsdale house had too many memories for her, her children refused to let her live there alone, and she refused to live with any of her children (even though we all fought over who she would live with). My mom was fiercely independent, and none of us wanted to take that away from her. We found her a place to live that she would come to love; where she could be independent but closer to my sister Jennifer and I. Plus, it was five minutes away from a Tai Chi studio! Though she hated living alone in the beginning, she soon began to enjoy having her own place and to be independent.
She's A Fighter
Four months after my dad passed away, my mom started seeing blood in her urine. Her doctor ordered a CT Scan and they found a growth in the ureter tube leading from her kidney to the bladder. Even though this was not what we expected, we held to the belief that whatever it was, we had caught it early, and given my mom's excellent health, this would be just a quick issue that would be taken care of. We scheduled her an appointment with a urologist and met with him the following week. After the meeting, an outpatient surgery was scheduled to remove a sample for biopsy. The surgery was to be performed a few weeks after our meeting, and we had already made plans to take my mom on a trip to San Francisco to visit her best friend, Helen Wong, before she had found blood in her urine. Because the surgery was so far out, we went ahead with our vacation. Looking back, I'm so glad we did. She had one of the best times; she was able to see Helen, whom she hadn't seen in years, she met up with school friends, and she rode a surrey bike for the first time in her life. Even though my mom led a healthy lifestyle, we changed her diet to an even healthier one. Jennifer began monitoring her salt and fat intake, and I started juicing for her every week and forcing her to eat salmon, which both she and I hated. However, she was a trooper and a fighter; she religiously drank the juice (which contained kale and broccoli, and left a strange aftertaste), ate the multiple different ways we could think of on how to prepare salmon, reduced her salt intake, and gave up most of the fried and sugary foods that she loved. She also took a trip up to Flagstaff to spend time with Peter and family, and visit old friends. She came back to Phoenix happier and had actually gained weight from Peter's cooking.
The Warrior
The next step would be the biopsy. Jennifer and I were with her for the procedure, which went relatively smoothly. We only had to wait for the results. In an appointment a few weeks later, the urologist told us the biopsy indicated it to be cancerous and he recommended removal of the kidney and the mass. After the mass was sent in for testing, we would know what stage she was at. Even with the news of having to lose a kidney and the cancer diagnosis, my mom refused to give up, and we refused to let her. Larry flew out for the next surgery and he, Jennifer, and I were with my mom. She recovered slowly, but was soon on her feet again, cooking and cleaning. Two weeks later, we received the devastating news: my mom was diagnosed with Stage IV metastatic urothelial cancer. We immediately scheduled an appointment with a Mayo Clinic oncologist and he confirmed our worst fears. As my sister and I took the news in absolute shock, my mom began crying. The oncologist gave us the grim statistics, but because my mom was actually very healthy, he said she had the option of undergoing chemotherapy. Again, my mom, knowing all this would entail, decided to try chemotherapy. It was at this point that I began seeing my mom in an entirely different light. I had always admired my mom, I felt she could do anything - she worked at home and at the restaurant while living with a temperamental husband, and raising five children who were always in trouble with the law in some form or another, but I didn't know until that moment what a strong iron will she really had. We started chemo the following week; we were on a three week on and one week off schedule. It was planned for her to receive nine treatments of chemo and the oncologist would evaluate her progress with another CT Scan. Every week, we would get to the hospital at 7am and finish around 1 or 2pm. Before we started chemo, she began retaining fluid and feeling tired, which was against her nature.
Hope
To our surprise, after the first two chemo sessions, she started feeling better and having more energy. However, to her (and our) distress, she began losing her hair. To my mom, the loss of her hair was worse than the loss of her kidney, which was understandable because for women, their hair is part of their identity. I remember her crying in frustration after Jennifer took her to get her head shaved. I saw her the next day and she said to me with tears in her eyes, "I look like a monk!" I couldn't help it, I started laughing and said, "Like Buddha!," and then she started laughing too. After eight sessions of chemo, the oncologist ordered a CT Scan. He called us with the news - the cancerous masses on her liver and bladder were significantly reduced. He was so pleased with her progress, that he felt he could get it into remission with a few more chemo treatments, then immunotherapy. We were so joyful and re-energized. For Jennifer and I, the news was everything we had prayed for. During the months since we first met with the urologist, my mom was never alone, my sister and I made sure one of us was always with her. We could never speak our fears with one another. Jennifer and I had an unspoken agreement: whoever was with my mom always had to be positive and keep her spirits up. All through her chemo sessions, we made my mom go out. She hated going out in public without her hair until we started purchasing her cute scarves to cover her head. We found Cancer Support Community of Arizona, which is an absolutely fabulous non-profit organization for cancer support. We started taking my mom there for their support group and Tai Chi classes.
A Time for Everything
After Thanksgiving, my mom started feeling tired and ill again. We thought it was just a cold she had somehow caught, but it turned out to be more than that. We went in for her last chemo sessions directly after Christmas, and her blood test showed her remaining kidney was not functioning well. The doctors checked her into the hospital. They believed she might have an infection and started her on fluids and antibiotics. This seemed to help her kidney and they released her the next day with a chemo session scheduled the following week. With our hopes up, we went the next week and were told her kidney levels had dropped once again. They checked her into the hospital and more tests were run. This time, they told her that something damaged her kidney (they believed it was some medication or the chemo itself), and it wasn't performing well enough for her to continue the chemotherapy. They put her on steroids and sent her home. We could only hope the steroids would get her kidney back on track and we could resume her chemotherapy. Unfortunately, nothing worked. Three weeks later, we checked her back in the hospital and the PET Scan showed the cancer had come back full force. To Jennifer and me, it was a recurring nightmare, because once again the doctors were telling us there was nothing to be done. We made plans to move her to a hospice facility so they could manage her pain. Apparently, my mom and God had different plans: the day we met with the social worker to move her, she quietly passed away with Jennifer and me by her side. At her funeral, we all wore Wonder Woman shirts in honor of my mother, our Warrior. She has left a huge hole in our lives, but we find the strength to go on because she passed that strength on to us.
