Just passed my mother's first birthday since her death.
by Christina Orr
(Toronto, Ontario )
My mother died march 3rd, 2012. At 10 am in the morning, on life support that I regret every minute putting her on. I am 23 years old, my name is Christina. I don't know where to begin. Everything was going completely fine, well as fine as it could go. She got diagnosed with pancreatic cancer early march, four years ago. It was a huge blow to my whole family. They told her she had six to nine months to live. I went with her to almost every chemo treatment that she had, and every oncologist and doctor appointment. She was doing so well. She lasted almost four years, four years without a problem. The night before, we were alone at the house, and she says to me that she feels like playing monopoly. We turned the tv off, the phone on silent, and we never used to finish, but this time, we were so caught up in the moment of being there, being together, that we actually finished the game. She beat me, and she was so happy. I woke up the next day to go to work and she was up already, and she was organizing papers on the floor. I snuck up behind her and scared her, she got mad at me because her back was hurting. I told her I was sorry and that I had to go to work but call me if she needed me. I got home late that night and my aunt was there, she told me my mom was throwing up blood. My mom said it was just the chocolate cake I had made for her. My aunt left, and I just sat with her, and my boyfriend was over as well. My mom fell asleep on the couch, and I was just looking at her, her hand started moving off the couch. It was really weird, like someone was holding it. She started mumbling and twitching. Then she shot right up and hurried to the bathroom. She told me to get her some new pants and underwear because she didn't think she made it in time, then she called me, and I went to the bathroom, and all I could see was blood. I ran and called an ambulance, and when they came, they started taking my mom's vitals. I swear to God it was the scariest thing I have ever seen in my life. Watching your mom totally lose control of herself, her eyes glazed over and her smile, to which I can only describe as similar to the Cheshire cat from Alice in wonderland, came over her face, and her body tensed up and she stared at the corner of the room, and no matter how much I tried to get her back, she liked whatever was in that corner better. I started screaming at the paramedic to do something, and he just said she was having a seizure. She did come back, and we hurriedly got into the ambulance and went to the hospital. They took her through and I had to fill out all the papers and go through triage. She was fine once I got to her, they told me she was bleeding internally and they just had to do a few tests, but they were giving her medicine for the internal bleeding to stop it. I will spare you the rest of what happened but basically, she had two more seizures, and I was asked if I wanted her revived and put on a breathing machine and it was like I was four years old. Of course I wanted my mommy back, what kind of question is that? I stayed while they tried to revive her, saw the blood, saw them use the paddles on her tiny body, my aunt tried to shield me so I didn't see, but I had to, I couldn't let her go like that, when they had put the tube in her mouth, blood kept coming up like a fountain, and they told me they couldn't stop it. They then took her and brought her up to intensive care. I couldn't bear to see her like that, she was already gone, just hooked up to the breathing machine to make it look like she was alive. There was no response from her, I cried so hard, apologized so much for doing that to her. The only thing I was grateful for was that my aunt and uncle got to say their goodbyes to her, I gave them the ability to do that. I waited by her side, for what seemed like hours, waiting for her to go, telling her it was okay, that we would be okay. I held her hand even when she was already gone, still wiping the blood from her nose and mouth. It will be two months tomorrow that she passed, and for the past two months, I've been totally fine. But I'm not. I need her. I need safety. I need comfort. I need home. I'm worried that as time goes on, I will start to forget her. I don't want to. I just don't want to hurt anymore. I want to make her proud, and do what she wants me to do, but I can't sleep at night because I see her face as she was dying, I can't sleep until I'm too tired to think. I just busy myself all day doing nothing and I know I'm not making her proud but I can't do anything else until I get over this overwhelming need to scream, cry, pull my hair out, and run, run anywhere but here, anywhere that none of this matters. I feel like I can't do it without her, I need her back, I miss her.