It's been awhile since I posted on this site.
I first came to it confused, mad, scared, defensive, depressed....you name it. (Brian, and several others can vouch for that!) I mentioned then that I had had several tragedies in my family that caused me so much anxiety about my husband's diagnosis with Stage III tonsil cancer and his possible passing. I had lost a mother-like aunt and grandmother within 8 months. My aunt to sudden cardiac arrest at 56, and my 83 year old grandmother to a routine gall-bladder removal.
On Friday, June 13th, I headed home to be with my 63 year old mother, the only remaining leader in my family, who seemed to be suffering from kidney stones in the hospital. She had already been admitted for 5 days and a cystyscopy (excuse spelling please) had come back clean. Only after her CT scan did the doctors really realize what was going on.
My mother would not discuss with me the test results until the nurses left the room. When I asked what the doctor had said, her response was, sitting on the edge of the bed, modeling a new blouse I had gotten for her, "Well, I'm not dead yet!" With a big smile to boot. Only then did she tell me that they suspected she had pancreatic cancer with mets to the liver. We learned later from the doctor that it also had mets to the aortic artery, with possible invasion to the spleen, intestines, and lungs.
I ran to hold her and cry and the only thing she could do was APOLOGIZE for what she was doing to me! She didn't want me to worry about her when my husband was in the gap of not knowing where his remission was. (I failed to mention that he was hospitalized with pneumonia for three days while visiting mom in the same hospital. We kept the elevators hot between the 2nd and 3rd floors.)
I've never been so humbled in my life.
My only sister and I were with her in the hospital every day until she quietly slipped away 12 days later. Only in the last 6 hours did she have morphine. And she was smart enough to know that when that button didn't beep, she wasn't getting any medicine! I would ask her to hold on just five minutes longer, and she would. Once I could give more, I would give her the max.
At 2:15am, I left the hospital after hearing her tell the nurses that she was in no pain, and drove a short distance to her apartment to call my husband and let him know what was happening. When I returned 45 minutes later, she was gone. The nurses didn't even know....they said she was sleeping just moments earlier. I went in, held her tight, and cried my good-bye.
I'm only writing this to let us all be reminded of how tedious life is. I used to be a real pessimest. My husband's diagnosis took the wind right out of me. But after seeing my mother deal with such a sudden passing, we are very lucky individuals indeed! We have hope!!!!!! We have prayer!!!!!! We have alternatives!!!!!!! We have life now!!!!!!!!
I'm reformed. Not to say that I don't cry for my beautiful mother every day. She was my bestest friend.
But it has given me greater hope in beating this bastard disease. She was too far gone. WE AREN'T!
Love and good wishes to you all. And in the words of my mom, when she would sign off on the answering machine, "Have a blessed day.....byeza"
Mandi
