Wishing For another moment
I live in Fl. My mom lived in Ga. I talked to my mom on the phone and via text daily. Sometimes both. I admit in the last months, before November it was more text than anything...Doesn't change the fact I considered her my best friend. If I had a problem I went to her. If I had good news or a funny story-I went to her. I went to visit her for Thanksgiving, Nov. 24, 2011 It was then that I first saw my mom and knew fear. She didn't look like herself and over the next few days she appeared to get worse. I knew in my heart something wasn't right. The "chest cold" she was suffering with was bad. I tried to talk her into a dr. She said "I'll be fine soon and if not then I'll go." On November 29, the decision was made for her. 3 heart attacks in a row. She died 2 times in the front yard while the ambulance loaded her up and then again at the hospital. She had been having back and leg pains and took potassium pills and overdosed on it. My dad called me and I came straight back to Ga.
My mom was in an induced coma for the next week. Diagnosed with kidney failure. Hense the leg/back pains. We were assured that she would be fine...People on dialysis can live a normal life. I swore to her while she slept that I would be there with her and beside her for as long as she needed me. As she woke up, I was the only one she would respond to, try to talk to...etc. I would come out of the room smiling because she would squeeze my hand to reply to questions. And my dad would go back to her and she wouldn't do anything.
The next few weeks mom was in the hospital...and daily the story changed on her condition. Not only did she have total kidney failure, she had heart disease. Her arteries were closed to 80 and 95 percent. She needed immediate open heart surgery...There again...we were assured it was no big deal. We got prepared for it...and then they did another test that revealed cancer. Stage 3 cervical cancer. My mom hated drs so never went to get checked. It was bad. It had spread. And so they wouldn't do heart surgery, til the cancer was gone.
Drs told her it was a useless fight. The cancer was too far progressed. Even with fighting it she had no more than 6 months to a yr. She was determined to fight and win. And she bravely fought. I went with her to every dr appointment. I stood beside her as promised. I was the one who would lay out her pills weekly in the pill containers. I knew what every pill was for. I did the refills. I played nurse and daughter. I would talk to drs on her behalf and help her to understand what they were saying. I lived and breathed to take care of her. I watched her get sicker and fought harder to keep her going. To keep her happy.
She ranted and raved about what had she done in life to make God hate her so much that she had to suffer. I assured her that there was a reason. That she was just a good person and had helped so many in her lifetime, that he wanted to show her that others were there to help her just as much. At times she hated me while she was sick, to the point I did move out of her house to give her time with my dad where she could be her own person with out a mother hen watching over her. Hated being babied. Hated her weakness. And still, I could see her going further downhill.
On June 23, 2012 my mom got really sick. Her and my dad had planned to spend the day together fishing and stuff. Something she was really looking forward to. I didn't contact her that day...stayed away so her and my dad could enjoy the day together. I called her that night to check in and found out she had been sick. Weak. Couldn't walk 2 foot. I urged her to go to the ER and at midnight my dad called to say she was going. I went and sat with them til 4:30 am. Then drove my dad home and I got home at 6am...just in time for my 2 yr old to wake up.
On Monday my mom had dialysis. I walked into the room and she begged me for help. She was hot and I yelled for the nurse...My mom went into cardiac arrest while I watched. She brought herself back without the help of the nurses. She spoke of the fear she felt right before there was nothing. They took her off the machine...she had only been on for 5 mins. They tried it again the next day with the same results and the Dr told us that her heart couldn't handle dialysis anymore. Without it she had two weeks maximum. All of her issues were catching up with her and she would lose the battle soon.
At that point all she wanted was to go home...and she did. She came home on hospice care Thursday night, June 28, 2012. She told the ambulance drivers that brought her home she was going to make it another 2 months, though she hoped she could hang on for 2 more yrs so her and my dad could be married for 40 yrs. On Friday the hospice nurse came to visit and meet mom for the first time. As she left the house she told us that she would be surprised if she had to return on monday. She didn't expect mom to make it through the weekend. I prayed she was wrong. Though that afternoon mom did what they call, "paused". It looked alot like the cardiac arrest I had seen the previous Monday. She brought herself back...and again spoke of being scared of it.
Friday night, she woke up in pain and I gave her meds. She wanted to sit up but she was so weak it was hard for her to do so on her own so I sat on the hospice bed facing her and let her lean into me. I rubbed her back and talked to her. Rubbing her back helped with the pain. I don't remember what I talked to her about, but I just enjoyed holding her.
The last conversation her and I had where she spoke back to me, was Saturday morning. I assured her that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would be right there beside her. She said simply, "I know you wont go anywhere." She stopped trying to eat. wouldn't drink. And I had to use the liquid morphine that she didn't want to take in order to control her pains.
Her brothers came to visit from florida and North Carolina respectively, and my mom barely showed signs of knowing they were there. I talked to my mom on Sunday...gave her "permission" so to speak. I talked about when I was little...some of the things I remembered us doing. Making play dough meals being the main thing. I talked about the hamburgers we made out of it and the french fries and drinks and the tomatoes and lettuce and stuff. I told her I wished we could do that again right now...but that I knew we couldn't. I promised her that one day we would. I told her I knew she was tired of fighting, tired of being in pain and being scared. I confirmed yet again that I would stand beside her if she chose to stop fighting. I wouldn't be mad at her.
Sunday night, she woke up in what I thought was pain. She was begging for help. My dad came in and told her the same as I had done...that she didn't need to fight anymore and no one would be mad. He walked out of the house. My mom drew her last breath at 9:23 pm as her brothers and I stood beside her bed. They were holding her hands...I had my hand on her leg. She just stopped. Her brother said she aint breathing and I said she is just "pausing". All 3 of us stood and stared, waiting on the "pause" to end. I laid my head on her chest to listen for a heart that no longer beat. I pronounced her gone amid tears and begging God to give me more time.
It has been 2 months and 4 days since that night. It feels like a lifetime. I miss her more daily. It use to feel like a bad dream. Now I am fine one minute and holding back tears the next. Sometimes it hits me like a gut punch...other times its just a sadness washing over me. I can ride past a place she use to love and sometimes it will bring instant tears...other times I may ride past with no thoughts or feelings at all.
My dad is wanting to put their house up for rent...he is insistent that we be ready for a yard sale of her things by the 15th of this month. I want to keep all of her things...how do I choose? Her urn is there in the window sill...and I talk to her. I beg her to talk to me. I beg her to help me. When I'm not there amid her things...I wish I could call her up and talk to her. And then it hits again that she isn't there to talk to. While going through her things...Most of the time I am fine...then I'll find an item...a scrap of paper or a picture or what-not and it will just punch me in the gut. I would rather be sad all the time or happy all the time as oppose to the fine one min and hurting like crazy the next.
I'm tired of crying...tired of holding back the tears. Tired of feeling like my world doesn't make sense. Tired of wishing she would help me make it make sense knowing she cant. I wish she would talk to me...tell me she isn't mad I made her take the liquid morphine. I wish she would tell me that she understands why I did it....not to hurt her but to help her. I wish heaven had a facebook so I would know that if I wrote it she would read it and understand....if not reply...then I could at least tell her all the things I need to NOW. When she passed I had said all I needed to....now I have more I need to tell her.
My dad has said I killed her. He said I am the one who stressed her out and her health is what suffered because of me. My dad looks at me as if I am horrible. My dad has accused me of trying to steal from them. She wanted me to have their house...and he says I don't deserve it...that if he gave it to me as she wanted I would probably put him out before his death. I wish I could tell her its not true. I wish she could tell me she knows I didn't kill her. That the mistakes I've made in my life wasn't what ended her life. I just wish.....