My mother was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer a few years ago, yet she always stayed strong — until one day she was suddenly hospitalized with abdominal pain. Anyone who has watched things go downhill quickly from there knows what it's like. Someone who was cracking jokes just yesterday slurs her words within days, loses weight rapidly, and can barely eat. Not even knowing whether it's the medication or the disease makes it all the more frightening.
When you hear it all at once — a bowel obstruction where gas can't pass, metastasis that has spread to other organs, and on top of that, the news that yet another ostomy needs to be created — your mind goes blank. And when the medical team warns you in advance that "she may not wake up due to complications or sepsis during surgery," that single sentence keeps echoing in your ears and keeps you from sleeping. This isn't the medical team trying to scare you; it's a risk they have to be honest about when performing major surgery on a body that has already grown very weak. Hearing it in advance makes your heart heavier, but it's still better to know.
The hardest part during a time like this is the guilt of wanting to stay by her side but not being able to. You have kids to look after and a job to go to. But keeping a 24-hour vigil at the patient's side isn't the only way to honor your parent. Holding her hand even briefly, playing a song she loved, saying "Mom, I love you" — those moments linger far longer than sitting there for hours. Don't blame yourself too much. What you're doing right now is already more than enough.
Looking into hospice care isn't giving up either. It's active care that eases pain and helps her spend whatever time remains a little more comfortably. There's no right answer to whether it's better to have more surgery or to shift toward palliative care. The best you can do is lay out the patient's condition, her own wishes, and the family's feelings together, and talk it through honestly with the medical team. If the decision feels too hard, getting a palliative care consultation can help too.
And there's one thing I really want to say. You, who are afraid, need care too. Don't skip meals, close your eyes even for a moment, and cry if you feel like crying. If the caregiver collapses, no one can be looked after. There are more people who have walked this same road before than you'd think, and sometimes just talking with them is enough to let you breathe again.
What I've written here is put together to share feelings with others going through a similar situation; it can't make treatment decisions for you. Please be sure to decide on your mother's care in consultation with her attending physician.