My mother followed Dad everywhere during their years together: she followed him to an oil town in Western Pennsylvania, she followed him to Europe for his dream vacation, she followed him to his doctor appointments and chemo sessions, and she followed him to his grave.

Cancer doesn't run through our family, it gallops. Of my father's six siblings, five of them developed cancer. Three of them died from it. So it wasn't a real surprise to find out that my father had developed the disease. At first it didn't affect him terribly, other than a little more fatigue than usual. Eventually, though, it took its toll. Mom had a hospital bed set up in the den for him, and he rarely came out. Trips to the hospital became more numerous. I rented a house two miles away to be closer to help out with the driving and the care. Finally, he was taken to the emergency room for what we knew would be his last time. I got the call at 3:00 in the morning to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. I held his hand as he died.

A month after the funeral, Mom started complaining of not feeling well, and I took her to the doctor. She was diagnosed with bladder cancer. After removing the bladder, Mom needed someone to help her care for the urostomy bag, and she needed help cooking and running errands. I ended up virtually moving in with her.

I coped with the disease by being her caretaker, at first. Eventually it got to be too much, and we had to bring in extra help. We had health care workers around the clock, and my daughter came home from college on weekends to stay. I finally got a little free time to myself, but my own house took up that time. I had quit my job to be with Mom full time, so money was tight, but Mom and my brothers helped with expenses while I coordinated Mom's doctor visits and chemotherapy sessions, kept track of her pills, acted as liaison for the Visiting Nurses, cooked the meals, and cleaned two houses. I could never have taken care of her completely by myself - it's simply too much for one person to do. I didn't have time to worry about the future; today was too urgent. In fact, there was barely any recovery time between taking care of Dad and jumping into Mom's care full-time. I believe having a hands-on approach to their illnesses helped me cope far better than if I had been several states away, worrying and waiting for that fateful telephone call. I'm not sure I could have borne that.

I think I finally came to terms with

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