On November 18, 2011 at age 56 my mom took her last breath. I was 28 years old. That May, my mom was doing keg stands at my wedding and in late August, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. For three weeks prior to my mom's brain surgery, she had been throwing up an average of four times per day. My stomach turned knowing she was so uncomfortable. Because the tumor was placing pressure on certain areas of her brain, she began to lose her ability to walk and her personality was changing. My family and I were led to believe that once the tumor was removed her symptoms would alleviate and she would resume her beautiful life. Little did my family and I know that we were about to embark on a two and a half month journey down the darkest road we’d ever traveled.
During my mom’s brain surgery, she experienced multiple strokes causing her severely impaired mobility, vision, speech, and cognition. She couldn’t walk, feed herself, or even go to the bathroom without assistance. When we asked her questions it took her some time to search for her words. In total, my mom had three brain procedures, four spinal taps, a feeding tube, a breathing tube, extreme nausea and vomiting from one day of chemotherapy, and an allergic reaction caused by medication producing a rash head to toe. She was admitted to hospitals and rehab facilities six different times.
I will never forget visiting my mom at one of the rehab facilities after her major surgery. Looking back, I realize our family was misguided into believing that she could rehabilitate but at the time we were willing to cling onto any glimmer of hope no matter how absurd it really was. In actuality, the rehab facility was more of a dumping ground because the referring physician didn't know what else to do with my mom. Anyway, there my mom sat in a wheelchair staring at the ground in a catatonic-like state. She was wearing a plastic bib and in front of her rested an untouched tray of once hot food, a salad with wilted leaves, and a juice box. It was a pathetic scene. My heart sank into my feet and I began to feel light-headed. I felt dissociated as if I was living someone else's life. It was simply too shocking for my body to accept that this was my reality. Since my mom couldn't move her arms she couldn't feed herself. I sat down next to her and began to feed her as if she was my child. I did not know this woman. She was not my mom. I thought to myself, “If there is a hell, I'm in it.”
Later after my mom left the rehab facility and went into a second hospital, a nurse informed our family that my mom’s tumor was spreading throughout her brain and that she had about two weeks left to live. The fight was over. It was time to stop searching for a cure, administering alternative therapies, and holding conferences with multiple oncologists. Hope was gone. It was time to say goodbye to the woman who had withered away to a shell of her former self.
During this journey, I had been by my mother's side nearly every second of every day with a few breaks here and there. On the day of her passing, I decided to take a 20 minute walk with my sister just to get some air. My mom passed while I was on my walk. I was not upset for I knew that she chose this moment to depart her body. I believe it was far too difficult for her to transition in the presence of her daughter. There was no finality for me that day and our journey still continues...
WRITTEN A COUPLE OF WEEKS BEFORE MY MOM'S PASSING:
This is one of the most, if not the most, life changing and soul strengthening experiences of my life. I am sitting next to my mom as she is dying. She is transitioning to the next phase of her spiritual journey. There are moments I bawl my eyes out and there are moments when I feel calmness knowing that everything is going to be alright. None of us saw this coming and we did everything in our power to save my mom’s life. We have finally let go and are allowing nature to take its course. I don’t get a sense from my mom that she’s scared. I think she’s accepting what is. She is patient and always has been. When her breathing changes I wonder if she’s passed and in a way, I kind of hope she has. All that’s important now is to love my mom and to make sure she’s comfortable. I think the ones suffering are the ones she’s leaving behind. I told my mom that she will have a direct impact on my life, especially on the rearing of my future children. She’s shown me how to love unconditionally not only by how she’s raised me but also from this experience. My maternal instincts were magnified as I watched my mom lay helpless in hospital beds. I can’t imagine life without her. I can’t believe this is happening. This is hell. I want my mom back. It wasn’t more than a few months ago when my mom was dancing with me at my wedding. One foot is in the world of acceptance where I know she’s being taken for something larger while the other foot rests in the world of raw pain and non-acceptance. I’m so angry she’s dying. The pain is mainly in my heart. My heart is literally breaking.
-CB
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