Things That Are On My Mind: R.I.P.

With the current headlines blaring out at me reminding me how fragile life is, I can't help but think of my mom these past couple weeks. Just two summers ago our family thought my mother was having severe intestinal issues that required a colonoscopy. She had been suffering from diverticulitis for a couple years and we figured it had finally flared up to the severe stage. After being in and out for testing, she was finally admitted to the hospital the beginning of June. From there a roller-coaster of testing would begin, along with a surgery that would end with a colostomy and the finding of a tumor on the outside of her colon.

Mom, me, Diana, Debbie
photo credit - Jill Watson Photography - Studio 101 Photography

While waiting for the results, my two sisters and I would take shifts at the hospital to be with mom. One of us in the morning, another in the afternoon, and another in the evening. Dad would wander in and out, but being in the hospital wasn't his thing. I'm pretty sure he was in denial that there could really be anything wrong with Mom.

Then the results. The tiny tumor was cancer - sarcomatoid carcinoma - stage 4. Apparently even the healthiest of individuals who came down with this type of cancer weren't expected to last long, let alone a 75 year old woman who had complications from surgery, developed an infection, and was having renal failure. It was quite the blow to us all.

Every day I would go to the hospital and would take notes when the doctors came in to see Mom, so that when my sister's came to visit, they would know what the prognosis was. Also, so I could keep busy when the doctor was there and not forget or space out from the news. Mom couldn't begin to remember everything that was going on. She couldn't even take care of her bag by herself, eat solid foods, walk around her bed. June was a very rough month.

By July Mom was able to be admitted into a rehab facility. There they worked on putting weight on her, getting her walking and moving independently, and being able to handle her colostomy bag on her own - not just emptying it, but replacing it on the stoma as well. Let me tell you - as a grown woman without any children, that is the grossest I have ever seen in my life - but you deal because you love and care about the person you are taking care of.

Mom came home after a couple weeks in rehab, but was in a lot of pain soon after returning. She couldn't eat - didn't want to eat, had constant pain in her back, and just looked haggard all the time. My nephew and his wife came to visit with their little one. Mom perked up for that visit - she must have known she was saying good-bye.

Eventually, Mom had to go back to her oncologist and when we all went, he said that her white count was once again elevated, which indicated infection, and thought it would be best to get her admitted again. We all went out for one last lunch at Red Lobster, where she tried to be upbeat and cheerful, but she just wasn't her usual self. After admittance on the cancer wing, we all talked and decided that she might need to have exploratory surgery to determine if she was septic or if there was more cancer. It was a lose/lose operation, but we knew it had to be done. Mom called for her priest and asked for us to leave the room so she could confess her sins. She didn't want to go into surgery with the possibility of not making it not having cleansed her soul.

After all of us said our well wishes to her in pre-op, we went to the waiting room. It was late afternoon, early evening, and you could view the status of the surgery on a computer monitor. In no time at all, it said that her surgery was over, which we knew was not good news. Her surgeon came into the room and told us the news. Her small tumor that was found in mid June, in one month, has spread and metastasized to every organ in her body - it was literally eating her from the inside. He could do nothing but close her back up. He said he had never seen something so aggressive. We cried for our mother and our wife.

It was eventually decided that Mom would come home. The hospital could do no more for her and we wanted her to be home. Funny, you always hear about hospice and what a wonderful thing it is, but until you go through it, you really have no idea what it is all about. You are in it alone! They come by once every couple days until the time is getting closer, then they come by every day. For about an hour. Otherwise, you are shown how to administer meds, how to move the patient and try to keep bedsores from occurring, how to sleep in a chair so that you can monitor her ragged breathing for fear you might miss her needing you. All this while you are still needing to be at work. Waiting for the moment she passes - praying that it comes soon but hoping it doesn't so you have more time to whisper to her how much you love her and how all those moments she held you when you were sick meant to you. Wandering around her house, what used to be your childhood home, wondering how it will ever feel like home again once she is gone, will there ever be light in the dark room that she is sleeping in? Worried how your father will cope with being alone - crying more for his loss than for yours, because while you have loved her for your 35 years, he has loved her for over 55, and can't imagine his life without her.

And then it is there, that moment you are sitting by her and hear that sharp intake and realize that nothing follows. As you call for your family, you rush to your mommy, your mom, your mother, your momma, your friend, and you hold her hand and tell her you are there for her and you love her and are so sorry for all her pain, but that you know she is with her family now. And eventually, the grimace of pain that was on her face with that last breath turns into her glorious smile that she is known for. And it is amazing. And you are thankful that you were there to witness it all - no matter how difficult it was, you are feeling more blessed than ever to have been there for her passing. And as my father said at the time, "an Angel entered Heaven" and she continues to watch over me and the rest of her family today.