Sorry to hear about your Mom. My heart truely goes out to you and your family. Hopefully it will help you to know that there are others like you here who are also struggling to figure out the best to help our mothers batter cancer.
My mom (now age 68) was diagnosed with stage IVB recurrent cervical cancer (lungs) in September of 2006. She was first diagnosed 10 years ago. At that time the tumor in her cervix was inoperable, but her pelvic lymph nodes tested positive for cancer so they were removed. She opted for just radiation at the time (instead of radiation chemo) and after 10 years of relatively good health, we all assumed she had the cancer beat. That is, until a little over a year ago when several dozen nodules showed up in her lungs.
Her lung tumors are also inoperable, so she and her doctor opted for some big guns chemo in order to keep the cancer at bay for as long as possible. She has had 4 rounds (1 round per month) of a combination of cistoplatin and taxol (supposedly there's nothing stronger). She finished chemo in January of 07 and so far, all three of her CT scans have been clear (nodules gone). The chemo has had some lasting effects-she's still super tired, gets nauseated, has severe edema in both legs and is generally frustrated at her inability to perform tasks that were simple just over a year ago.
Believe me when I say I understand how utterly confused, frightened and helpless you (and your family) may be feeling right now. There's a learning curve-both with trying to sort through mounds of medical information (in a short amount of time), and also with navigating the emotional waters of how to best be there for your Mom. Then of course, there's facing your own fears as well.
My mom is also independant. She's of stoic scandanavian decent and has never wanted to be a "burden" to her husband, children or friends. At first I didn't know what to do-how to help. I read up on her type of cancer and read books on how to help care for family and friends with cancer. I told her it takes courage to accept help from ither people and made sure she knew that I was going to be taking my cues from her. I accompany her to all of her doctor appointments so I can help her keep track of everything the doctor is telling her (and I can ask my own questions). At first she never wanted to talk about it (although I gave her plenty of openings), but over time, she has become more open. I think she was just trying to process it all in the begining like the rest of us were.
I've also discovered that she doesn't want whatever time she has left to be all about cancer. Above all else, she wants to focus on having as normal of a life as possible. I've learned to take my cues from her. I admit, the hardest part is not being able to confide in her about how scared I AM. Instead, I try to remain positive, strong, upbeat and full of hope (NOT Polly Anna mind you-just not despressing and down). We don't talk about prognosis, because no one knows for sure. Besides, my mom is not just another statistic to me, she's my mom. We need to keep the focus on what's happening right now.
During her chemo, I made up a special chemo tote bag for her, complete with a warm blanket, water, yummy snacks, crossword puzzles, magazines, etc. Then I sat with her through her all day sessions-getting her lunch from the hospital cafeteria and taking my dad out to lunch (which also gave him a chance to say how he was feeling) so she could grab an afternoon nap. We all did our best to make it as pleasant as possible.
As her daughter, I oscillate between being realistic and wanting to whisk her off to the world's top cancer specialists, leaving no treatment stone unturned. That said, I never push. I thow information out htere, but ultimately, those are her decisions, and she'll discuss them with us, but she knows all treatment decisions are HERS and HERS ALONE.
By the way, my mom has also had a colostomy (poo bag). She had a section of her intestine removed about 2 years ago after a build up of scar tissue ( damage from the radiation treatment she received 10 years ago) resulted in a total blockage. The colostomy was sudden, shocking, incredibly humbling and intensly personal. But she is OK. And she is still with us!
Remember, you and your mom are not alone. I hope this board can provide you with some support! Best of luck, your in my thoughts...