Tomorrow I'm going back to work already...

is it too early?

Flowers & Thank you notes

Brenda and Erica made arrangements with the funeral home to have the floral arrangements dropped off at Erica's home.  I'm not interested in the flowers as I do not want to find myself in another position to be disappointed over plants, as I had been after dad died.

Roy and I begin working on the yard as it has become quite overgrown. Our lawn mower is not working again but I decide to weed eat and edge the yard so that, at the very least, we can find our sidewalk better.  I run out of string for the weed eater and Roy and I make a run to Sears for more. Brenda begins calling to see if I will be going by Erica's for my flower arrangements. The only one I'm interested in is one of three rose sprays that sat atop the casket, so I stop by to pick it up on the way home. Roy is concerned that I may be walking into more than I'm expecting (he was right). Roy loaded up the flowers that Brenda and Erica had designated as my portion and then sat in the car to wait on me. I had thought I would only be a moment as I signed the Thank You cards, but once finished Brenda and Erica gave a glance at each other as they began a discussion they had already planned. They posed the idea that Erica get the house, Brenda get one rental property, and I get the other rental property. They went on about getting appraisals on the properties and Brenda assured me again that we can go slow and take our time. I think they simply had come to an agreement between the two of them and wanted me to entertain the idea now. They went on to discuss Erica cleaning up mom's house and laying things out for us to look at. I agreed but made clear that I didn't want anything thrown out unless we were all on the same page about it (this because I had not been included in this process after dad passed away and it was very difficult to be left out). 

I think I offended Erica because she said, "if you don't want me doing it because you think I'm going to take something, then just say so."  

I responded, "no, I'm not worried about that at all; it's just, one man's trash is another man's treasure."  

Brenda chimed in, "I understand how you feel Karen, because I was not included either and it really bothered me too."

I believe Erica was feeling upset by now as she insisted, "that was all mom. That was all mom's doing."

I knew is was mom's doing. I had told mom back then that I didn't agree with how she was handling dad's estate. Of course, this offended her and the subject was dropped quickly never to be brought up again. Regardless, I fought off my animosity towards mom and Erica and Michael regarding the situation. "Family is more important," I told myself, "You can't take anything with you so don't be attached to things."

This time though, I want things to be different - better, fair and considerate.

I clammed up. Silence is often misunderstood but never misquoted.

The Funeral

Today is Mom’s funeral.  I woke at 8:00a and begin to ready myself.  Roy has already left work and is making a quick stop to clean up the jeep.  I wake Aaron to shower and then slowly rouse Wolfie and Drew.  By 9:00a we are all ready to go and just waiting for Candice’s arrival.  By 9:15a we are out the door and on the way.  Aaron and Candice are taking their car.  Roy Jr and Corey are coming together shortly in Corey’s car.

We arrive at the funeral home and Brenda and her family are already there and waiting.  Brenda offers a long embrace and quietly reassures me that she and Erica will be in no hurry to disburse anything, we can take all the time I need.  I cry in relief.  Because I work in a law firm, I have an attorney free of charge. I'm well aware that I can drag this probate out as long as I need; however, I would like to refrain from handling it in that manner. I would like for my sisters and I to get along, be more understanding, considerate, and patient with each other.  Erica and her family arrive and she comes in for a hug as well.  Bygones again without a formal apology?  Okay, happy to.

We are advised by Mike that we are “breaking tradition” by standing in the foyer to greet people and usher ourselves to our seats.  My sisters and I, along with our husbands, all sit in the first row.  Brenda’s and Erica’s kids sit in the row just behind us and my crew sits behind them.

Pastor Shamburger begins and he reiterates, with only a few mistakes, some of the information provided him by me and my sisters.  He then simply reads the obituary word for word.  Our cousin, Ron, makes his speech which seems to focus more on his life but does include a memory of when my mother and father dated.  Overall, I felt the speeches were lame and the Pastor would have done better to preach something more from his Bible rather than trying to be so personal about someone he knew nothing of.  The music reminded me of what we’d been listening to in mom’s hospital room with the additions of “Surround Me with Love” and “I Can Only Imagine”.  Erica’s daughters begin to sob and it was all I could do to keep from crying myself.  Drew follows suit though and sheds some quiet tears.

We are ushered outside and into our cars for the procession.  The hearse, then Brenda’s vehicle, then our Jeep, then Corey’s mustang, then Erica’s Suburban, and Aaron’s car.  I try to distract Drew by pointing out our police escort and explaining how they are assisting us.

The weather is very overcast as we gather at the grave site.  Sitting directly in front of the casket is difficult and I choke back more tears.  Aunt Jeanette and Aunt Carolyn sit behind me and Aunt Carolyn is having an especially difficult time as she was not just mom's younger sister, but her best friend as well.  Erica seats more elderly under the tent giving up her own and then everyone else moves in closely as Pastor Shamburger says a few more words.

We disburse and mingle for a bit before the rain begins sprinkling.  Erica and Brenda and their families plan to eat out and pick Tokyo Grill inviting me and mine.  Aaron, Corey, and Candice inform me that the restaurant is quite pricey and that, in conjunction with how picky we all are, I decide to pass on the invite. Our family makes our way to Texas Roadhouse for our dinner and it's enjoyable.

The day is done and I have yet to process mom's death. 

Funeral arrangments

I was directed by my sisters to meet them at Erica's home so that we could make runs today to prepare for funeral arrangements. We rode together in Brenda's car to the funeral home to meet with the director, Richard.  We set out the details about mom for her obituary and then Brenda and Erica choose the casket. We discuss a photo collage board, floral arrangements, memorial cards, met with Pastor Shamburger and then left for the cemetery to meet with the director there and talk about the arrangements and seating for the graveside memorial. From there, we went to moms to look for photos for the memorial collage. Back up now...

Previously (and before mom's passing), Aunt Carolyn had asked that we get pictures of mom to her so that she could complete a memorial card that she was keeping herself busy with because in mom's last days, Aunt Carolyn couldn't bring herself to visit as often (it was just too hard on her). Well, I searched in mom's amours, dresser, and bedside table, to no avail. Pictures of mom were scarce and this is no surprise as mom hated having her photo taken.  She did, however, have a few photos that she (must have) approved because she'd framed and hung them on a wall next to her bed. They included snapshots of her as a baby, a young child, a teen, a young woman, and a married couple.  As these photos were perfect for Aunt Carolyn to complete her project, I simply took the framed pictures from the wall.  I did report this to my sisters so that they would all be on the same page, in case Aunt Carolyn had asked them too for photos.  They thanked me for taking care of that, and that was that - until, flash forward now...

We are sitting in mom's living room having arrived so that we could retrieve photos for a collage board. I'm thinking to myself that I couldn't find any other pictures, but I do believe some more exist and maybe Brenda or Erica knows where they are. 

Erica empties mom's luggage filled with multiple moomoo's and spreads them out for us to choose one to bury mom in.  Brenda and Erica quickly eliminate several. Erica makes a game of it, stuffing several into the luggage and having me and Brenda pull one out without looking - narrowing it down more. She stuffs the last few into the luggage again, I pull one without looking and she immediately decides that it concludes the game. Brenda scoffs at the game but I defend Erica saying, "It made it fun."

We all relax in the living room for a breather and it's quiet.  I decide to seize the moment as I have something to say that has been worrying me.  I tell them that it is really important to me that things just sort of calm down and get back to normal before we begin distributing mom's estate too quickly.  (This because, after dad died, I was upset that Brenda and Erica seemed to "hawk" around picking and choosing their "inheritance" from mom's property. It was all too quickly and I remember thinking then that dad was not even "cold in the ground yet" and they were scavenging.) Erica explains that she is fine with waiting because her kids would not be out of school for another week yet and she didn't want to be busy with the division until after that.  Brenda complied as well, stating that they had a family vacation planned, so it would be two weeks before she was ready to begin the process.  In my mind, I'd been hoping for a year but knowing this would anger them, thought I'd ask for only three months for starters; instead, I respond, "yeah, but I don't think ya'll understand, I'm going to need more time than just a few weeks."  I don't think it's unreasonable or irrational to take at minimum a few months to deal and mourn the death of a parent; however, one would have thought I'd been asking for the moon. Erica angered quickly and spouted that I "just like to chew on things." 

"I don't think mourning mom's death is 'chewing on things' Erica."

Still frustrated, she sarcastically adds, "Well, is it okay if I go find the pictures?"

I can't say that I didn't see this coming.  Initially, I had planned to make this announcement after our running was done because I did expect this sort of response.  A healthy communication in our family (especially one that involves me because no one seems to be open to my ideas, suggestions, and rational) is virtually non-existent.  "Really Erica? Are we going to be sarcastic about everything now? The pictures are why we came here to begin with. I don't think that your sarcasm is necessary."

She rises with a huff and exits the room to get the photos.  When she returns, she has a box of envelopes and immediately informs us, "Well, either you took all the photos of mom or they just don't exist!" Okay, now she is being accusatory and my feelings are hurt. I feel like a damn baby because the tears are flowing, but I've already been on edge with mom's death and now this...

I sit; crying quietly and staring away from them in effort to judge becomes the couch. Erica begins making piles of the folders, one for each of us. Our names are written on the outside of each and Erica is assuming they contain, among other things, letters written by mom addressed to each of us.

We gather our things and leave.  I just want to go home but they drop off the moomoo we selected for mom to be buried in, and then head for the floral shop. In route, we stop off at a dentist office as Kaitlyn is getting her tooth implants today.  I try to regain composure and then get tearful again - on and off the rest of the afternoon.

Finally at Erica's, I let her know that there are two checks that need to be signed.  The first is mom's water bill, and the other is a credit card that has a rather large balance due to the ambulance rides, Aunt Carolyn's parking at M.D. Anderson, and about $100 spent at Sam's Club.  She inquires about same, I explain, she signs, and I am off - finally!

She's gone

Mom's breathing is getting more and more shallow but it is  still steady. Aunt Jeanette relieves me at 8:00a and stressing about work, I decide to try to go in for a few hours as I'm certain the piles on my desk are mounting.  

I arrive at work and, as suspected, there are plenty of new piles of work and sticky notes to keep me busy and, to my surprise, I am able to concentrate and hurriedly get quite a bit accomplished. I leave for a short break at 1:30 to get Roy to physical therapy (for his knee pain from surgery). He will be ready for pick-up at 3:00p and I'll leave work for the day then and return to the hospital again to sit with mom. At about 2:35p I get a call; it's Erica and she explains that the mucus in mom's throat has built up again and that she is rattling a lot.  They had requested the respiratory therapist suction her throat again but were informed this time that because mom's breathing is so shallow, she may not survive a suctioning; consequently, they are calling me to be there for the event, just in case.  In a panic, I can't think, I just know I have to get to the hospital immediately.  On my way, I call Aaron to let him know what Brenda and Erica are planning and to ask him to have Jr. pick up his dad. He decides to come as well so I wait for Aaron and Candice in the lobby for a while as I'd like to calm  myself and gather my thoughts. Is it really necessary to suction her if it could risk an early termination? How can the procedure be approved by medical personnel if the risk is so high? How is this any different than aided suicide? I need to hear the "rattle" for myself. 

I go up to the room and sit - she's quiet. I wait - she's still quiet.  Erica and Brenda explain that they feel a little silly now as she has become so quiet. I'm not amused.  They seem to jump to medicate or "treat" mom sometimes appearing to be more interested in calming themselves. Aaron and Candice come up and sit and I explain that mom has quieted so we are holding off for now.  

Erica exits and I follow her as I'm not sure who she's going to talk to and give instruction to - she turns to explain that she's only looking for the respiratory therapist, Cindy, to clear something personal with her. Cindy rounds the corner and Erica begins talking with her about her mental stability as to how she can handle performing a procedure that could result in such dire consequences. Cindy explains it part of her job and they go back and forth for a while. Once their discussion is completed, I step in with my questions. I'd like Brenda present and call her to join us.  After getting a few answers from Cindy, I am still unsure that this procedure is necessary at all at this point. Erica, Brenda, and I round the corner to the waiting area to discuss the situation further.  They agree that we will not do any suctioning for now and I explain that I'm starved and haven't eaten. They place their orders for lunch with me and I let Aaron and Candice know the plan as well. Aaron wants to sit a while at the hospital with mom.  

Roy and I go eat at Las Palmas; I drop off Roy at home and then bring the food plates to my sisters. Aaron is gone by now. We sit and talk a while. I watch mom breath and notice how everyday she seems closer and closer to Heaven. She has a white towel wrapped around her head and neck as the nurses had cleaned her up earlier and Erica's kids had stopped by for a brief visit. Her head is tilted to her right and her body is tight. Her face is so thin she hardly looks like herself at all. 

A little more than an hour passes and mom is drooling. I rise to clean her up and Erica says, "I let you take care of this one." I wipe the drool which has a green tinge and when I do, much more spills from her mouth. It seems to startle Erica and she jumps up to retrieve the nurse or Brenda. I peer into mom's mouth and note a green pool of mucus and spit has formed in the side of her mouth. I mentally note that the suction is going to occur as it has worked its way up in her throat and is now spilling from her mouth.  I step outside to call Aaron with this information.  He doesn't say whether he is coming or not. Cindy enters the room and suctions her mouth, and then attaches a tube to the suction unit for suction her throat.  Erica has decided that it is easier to suction through the nose as this is what she has witnessed.  I, however, have witnessed both and it appears to me that either is easy when mom is knocked out enough on drugs and either is difficult when she is not. No time for argument, the nurse begins.  I am on mom's left, Erica sits on her right, and Brenda is beside me. Mom struggles. The suction is taking her breath away and her face turns a beet red. Mom's head nods up and down as if she is struggling to swallow or catch her breath. The suction seems to take forever and I become quite sure that mom will not survive it. Once over, mom seems to breathe with her throat but her chest isn't moving - her lungs don't appear to fill with air and we wait. Brenda and Erica keep telling her to go into the Light, that it's okay to go to Heaven now. We are all crying and I'm listening to them encourage her to "let go". I can't cry with my sisters so I begin deep breaths and talking myself into embracing this as the spiritual experience it should be. Her pulse is noticeable beating quite quickly in her neck and she continues to gasp for breath.  Finally, she seems to be gasping regularly. The suction has certainly taken its toll on her and likely shortened the life span but probably only by hours. I call Aaron again to let him know that mom "survived" the suctioning stating, "Her body is still here, she is breathing, and her heart is still beating." He is crying and it tears me up inside.  I wish I could hold him, but send Candice a text telling her to take care of him.

Again, we sit.  Erica, stressed that mom is stressed, wants to call for a shot of Ativan. I veto. "I don't think she's stressed" I say. She responds that she feels mom looks stressed. I say, "she looks like she's dying." I feel, with as shallow as mom's breath is, and as weak as she appears to be (so close to death), that the Ativan would speed her death as well. That being said, I realize that the medical staff might veto the shot as well if this is the case, but they didn't veto the suctioning even though they were well aware that it could likely end her life to do so.  Erica, frustrated, requests that Brenda turn up the music so that she won't have to listen to mom's raspy breathing.

Erica calls Aunt Jeanette quite and deep voice states simply, "It's time" and it reminds me of something out of a movie.  Apparently Aunt Jeanette hung up on her as Erica seemed as though she'd lost her.  She calls Aunt Carolyn who explains that she can't come to the hospital to witness mom's passing - it's just too hard for her.  Aunt Jeanette races to the hospital, seats herself on mom's left and clutches her hand.  Brenda is seated just behind her, Erica is kneeling on the floor holding mom's right hand, and I am seated in a chair in the corner praying.

Mom has "developed" Cheyne-Stokes now and her breaths are literally about 10 slow seconds apart. With each inhale we stare intensely waiting for the next. Erica seems to jump in surprise with each new breath now. And, at 7:54 p.m. on May 22, 2013 it is apparent that there will not be another breath.

She's gone.

Brenda jumps up and runs from the room to alert the nurse who follows her back in. He listens for a heartbeat or any other sign of life. He straightens and apologizes. Erica is sobbing and Brenda hugs her. I hug Aunt Jeanette and then she instructs me to join my sisters. I hug Erica, hug Brenda.  The nurses re-enter to turn off the morphine drip. Brenda asks, "What next?" The nurses will prep mom for pick-up and the nursing home will send someone to get her.

Aunt Jeanette leaves. Kaitlyn stops by to help Brenda with the stereo they had purchased to use in the hospital room. We gather other things and... 

leave.

False alarm

I had stayed with mom overnight and Aunt Jeanette came in at about 8:00 a.m. to relieve me.  I plan to try to go in to work today for a while.  Once home, I begin getting dressed and Erica calls to find out how the night went.  As I have her on one line, Aunt Jeanette calls me on the other line.  She states, "I think you need to come back up here. Mary thinks she's going to be passing soon." I quickly get off the phone with my aunt and pass the information on to Erica who is waiting on the first line (she will then notify Brenda as well) and I race back to the hospital.  

Erica is so close behind me that we meet in the parking lot and go up to the room together. I explain that Aunt Jeanette only said, "Mom feels like she's passing soon" but we don't know anything for certain.

At her bedside Erica and I hold tightly to each hand.  Mom is groggy and coming out from a long drug induced sleep.  We assure her that we are both her with her. Her words are slurred, "Where's Brenda?" Erica responds, "She’s on the way."

Mom replies, "She’s always late for everything."  The room breaks out in laughter because she's so right but humorous at such a dire time too.

Erica continues to talk to her.  I like hearing Erica talk to her.  Her words are good and her voice is calming, she repeatedly tells mom that she loves her and that "she was a good mom."

"I love you too." Mom replies, then turns to stare at the ceiling, "and I love Aaron too, he was a good son", then turns to face me, "and I love you too, you were a good mom okay, you were a good mom."  I nod tearfully mouthing, "I know. I love you too."

I rise and she stares at me, her eyes are pleading, "I know. I know. I know. I know." I take it as if she knows now that she is passing away soon and all I can do is nod, cry, and repeat, "I know."

"Why? Why like this? Why? Why? Why like this?" she cries.

Brenda comes in and takes her place next to Erica telling mom that she is here now too.

Mom is given some Ativan for her anxiety and she falls back to sleep again under its influence.

We sit.

Later, Brenda is sitting to mom’s left on the chair with her tablet, Erica is sitting on Aunt Jeanette’s walker, Aunt Jeanette is in the corner, and I am sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed.  Mom begins talking to Brenda.  It’s unclear the topic, something about Brenda’s tablet, a recipe, and Kaitlyn.  Erica approaches mom and tries talking to her.  Brenda and Erica seem to be trying to make sense of mom’s words but I don’t think mom knows what she’s trying to say.  It’s all very irrational and I keep quiet as everyone else is rattling on trying to make sense of things. 

“No! Kaitlyn needs to GO!” mom says forcefully.  “I don’t want to be here if she’s mad at me!”  Brenda gets on her phone quickly trying to contact her daughter and asks if she can come up to the hospital.  I’m keeping quiet but waving for someone else, Erica or Aunt Jeanette, to get Brenda off the phone. The last thing that needs to happen is to have Kaitlyn up here and talking to mom when mom is agitated and irrational.  No one seems to be paying attention to my gestures and I’m at a loss at how quickly Brenda is responding to mom’s absurdities.  “No! Get her away! She’s mad at me! I don’t want her to be mad at me! I have to go!” she continues yelling.  She asks for water and when I place the cup in front of her for a sip, she grabs it from me and throws it at me screaming something like, “You put the lid on it!” My arms swing into place to avoid the hit and my hand grabs the cup as she swings.  I catch sight of my sisters’ startled look and I try to calm/reassure them, “It’s okay! This is part of it! It’s part of it. It’s okay.” I glance at Aunt Jeanette who seems to be somewhat startled but hasn’t moved from her seat.  Brenda quickly tells Kaitlyn not to come but puts her on speaker phone to talk to mom.  Not a good idea I’m thinking as we have no idea what to expect from mom at this point.  I don’t want Kaitlyn hurt by something mom says out from this irrational state of mind.  “I love you” Kaitlyn sings from the phone.  To my surprise, mom seems to relax and responds, “I love you too.”

I didn't see this coming

Spending the night with mom tonight. She is throwing up fecal matter now and her stomach is badly bloated, but has been refusing the meds to help with it.  An old family friend and her respiratory therapist for tonight, Teresa, enters and is able to talk mom into taking the anti-nausea medication.

After everything traumatizing that I have seen, smelt, and witnessed with mom, this is evidently where my line is crossed.  The idea of vomiting fecal matter, the smell of it, the sound of it, all makes me want to vomit right along with her.  

My first witness of this and I gag spontaneously. It's  difficult to hide and Mom looks up at me, "I'm sorry Karen. You haven't seen this yet."  I reassure her that I'm fine and not to worry about me.

Trying to hide my gag reflexes from mom, I can only stand behind her as she throws-up. 

I try to clean her mouth but she’s so miserable she often fights it.  A little spit can still emit a strong smell, so I switch her buckets frequently to keep a clean rotation.

All the worry I've ever caused my mother and here I am worrying about her like I've never ever worried before.

The doctor explains that she likely has a blockage in whats left of her rectal tract. It could be that it's become twisted, it could be a cancer tumor, but there is no telling without a CT scan and mom's allergic to the die.  At this point, the test and the surgery to inspect and/or repair the problem would likely cause an earlier death.  I suppose she's living on borrowed time now.

Sleep is sweet. 

Pulled in every direction

Does lying on your death bed somehow validate being inconsiderate and rude?

As I sit here in this cramped room with its negative vibe hanging over me, and watching my mother insist on be catered upon to the extent that it does not just inconvenience, but tramples upon time with our children - I'm torn. Torn between serving my mother in her remaining days/weeks/months (who knows how long?) of life, and my responsibilities to my family and children. How does one prioritize this?

Mom could have only weeks, more likely months, but she could surprise us with years. Our homeschooling has been suffering these past few weeks and my children's education cannot sit by the wayside for months. Not to mention how my daughter is missing me, and I miss and need her so much right now. I will arrive home finally and she will, literally, jump around the room in attempts to monopolize my attention.  Her neediness is overwhelming as well.

Lately my schedule is work full-time (8:30-5:00, Monday through Friday), homeschooling my two youngest children, keeping up with mom's personal bills, feeding Aaron’s dog, Buffy, who resides at my mom’s home, and managing mom’s apartments (which includes bills, deposits, record keeping, balancing the checkbook, and interviewing prospective renters, and juggling the pest control representative). Roy had his knee surgery recently and is often times not much help around the house.  He goes for his physical therapy three days a week.  The house is in shambles most of the time, so I've got to fit in some time to pick up a little (thank God for the kids' chores).  I’m supposed to review the kids’ school work but haven’t had time for that.  Still trying to fit in bath time for Drew, and, oh yeah, feed everyone.  Drew has developed a bladder infection (or something like it) and after taking her to the doctor, I’m trying to keep her on schedule with her medication.

I’m just so ridiculously overwhelmed right now that I’m not sure whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt.

On the outside looking in

I don't think that having a bad day, being sick or even terminally ill gives one the right to be a total bitch to everyone… but maybe it does; however, it’s difficult and disappointing to witness from this standpoint.

Doped

The only comfort right now is in knowing that she won't remember any of this in the morn.

Missing mom before she's gone

I'm having a hard day today. Missing my mom already and she's not even gone yet.

Last I wrote, mom had just informed me that the cancer is terminal. I think part of me always suspected that it would likely lead to this. I think researching the cancer and understanding what had already been happening to mom prepared me somewhat for this news… you can never be completely prepared though.

Cancer Research UK: What happens in the final days of life

She's back

Erica went to see mom yesterday.  She talked directly to Dr. Burke.  She sends a text.

It reads:  “Well I guess I spoke with an optimistic Dr.  Moms main Dr. (Dr. Burks (sic)) came in and I spoke with him.  He is more pessimistic. Says he expects the cancer to show its self within the next few weeks.  That even though he did not give her a time frame we should probably plan on the shorter version of her plan. I like the other Drs version better but after talking to him I guess…”

I’m at mom’s feeding Buffy.

I respond:  “Yes, this cancer made its reappearance in less than a year from the first operation. And then it was very fast growing. I think all we can do is go day by day… I love you.”

She replies:  “He is looking at late next week bringing her to warm springs.  She just wants to be incoherent so she doesn’t have to deal with any of it. I guess I understand that but every time I come she sleeps. She cried when I left Sunday so I promised her I’d come… I just watch her sleep every time I’m here.”

I respond:  “Probably good to just sleep thru it right now…”

As I said, the truth will work itself out… I didn’t think it would happen this quickly though.  If Erica and I had been talking normally, I could have tried to prepare her for this.  Maybe, this is the way it was supposed to be though…

Once home, I call mom.  She is moaning a lot as if she is in a great deal of pain. She says her pain level is actually a -6- but when the nurse asks a short time later she tells her that it’s a -9- because it must be a high pain level for them to give her Morphine.  She wants Morphine.  Mom says she wants me and Erica to get together to arrange the ambulance ride home.  I assure her that we will both be there on Saturday and can discuss it then.  She says that she is ready to get out of the hospital.  She is frustrated with the nurses now, probably because they withdrew the Morphine.  We talk for about 30-40 minutes and Erica sends me a text.

It reads:  “I’m going Friday to stay with mom for the weekend. I can’t go the following weekend.  I’m hoping she’ll be home by then but if that doesn’t happen I was hoping you could go that weekend and stay with her???”

I don’t respond by text – I want to call her instead.

Erica goes over again what Dr. Burke had reported.  She talks again about how much mom sleeps when she visits her.  She talk quite a while and this time it seems as though she actually wants to talk to me.  I’m fighting back tears because she needs me and I need her… especially now.  She goes on and on as if nothing were ever wrong between us and I have a sense of relief despite our stressful topic (mom). At one point she states, “Up until Tuesday, I thought mom was coming home to heal…” Her voice trails off and I know that she is crying silently.  I whisper, “it’s okay…” She regains composure. I'll be going to her home tomorrow to drop off more citrus green tea for her to take to mom.

I think I have my sister back… finally.

Erica calls

Erica calls me at work and I go into Micah’s empty office to talk with her.  (Of course, I do not hang up on her. I would never do that.)  She asks if I’ve talked to Aunt Jeanette and I reply that I had.  I understand what she reported to Aunt Jeanette and we discuss what the doctor had told Erica exactly.  She talks to me with a matter-of-fact tone and I get the feeling that she’s having this conversation with me because she feels she has to, not because she wants to talk to me.  

Conflicting reports on mom's prognosis

I go out to get the kids some breakfast and Sonic ice for Roy’s knee but swing by my Aunt Carolyn’s first.  I want to visit with her about the discrepancies in her account of mom’s prognosis and the account I was told by the doctor because should there be further discussion with Brenda or Erica, I want to have my information together.  She’s not home so I swing by Aunt Jeanette’s. 

*

Aunt Jeanette had called me the day after I found out about mom’s prognosis.  I was at work but outside leaving for the day.  Roy was waiting in the car.  Aunt Jeanette was obviously devastated.  She felt bad for us (daughters) having lost a dad and now going through this with mom.  She wanted me to know that she loved me and that she would always be available for me.  It makes me cry just typing this.  Her little sister is dying and she’s grieving on so many different levels – as we all are.  I cry and tell her I love her too. 

*

Uncle Jim answers the door and we all sit in the living room to talk.  Since Aunt Carolyn is no longer staying with mom at the hospital, I suppose I feel someone should pass along the doctor’s reports.  When I’d left the hospital Saturday, I wasn’t sure if Brenda and Erica would have an opportunity to talk to a doctor or not.  Since then, Brenda had called me but I’d missed the call.  She left a voice message explaining, with a bit of the attitude I’d expected, that they’d talked with a doctor and received a much different report than that of the one mom gave. 

I talked with my aunt and uncle about what the doctor had told me.  It seems every time a doctor speaks, we get very few answers.  We talked a little bit about the reaction I expected from Brenda and possibly Erica.  We talked a little bit about Erica’s continued animosity towards me.  We talked about several of their kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids.  We talked until I began getting calls and texts from Candice and Roy and I knew I needed to leave to get their lunch.

It wasn’t long after I’d left that I received a call from Aunt Jeanette informing me that Erica had called her with a much different report than mine.  Erica said that the doctor that talked to me had misinformed me.  (This struck me weird because Erica didn’t know details about what the doctor had said to me, unless she was speaking about from what Aunt Jeanette had told her that I’d said.)  Erica told Aunt Jeanette that a team of doctors had come in and told her that there was no time line, the balls were not cancerous, and they had found a little bit of cancer when doing the surgery on the fistula but had removed it so therefore mom was cancer-free.  Aunt Jeanette said Erica had tried to call me several times but I had hung up on her. (Wow! I’m floored by this because it’s completely untrue.  She had not tried to call me – there was nothing on the caller I.D.  And do not try to say that maybe she called the wrong number because I’m in her cellphone address book and that would be, frankly, bullshit.  I just have an issue with people who have to tell bold-face lies to validate themselves. But whatever… )

Aunt Jeanette was confused now and this was exactly what I was trying to avoid.  I couldn’t talk to Erica because she wasn’t talking to me but now we are not on the same page because of it and just confusing everyone.  Aunt Jeanette suggest that I make copies of the papers that the doctor provided to me and that we could sit down with her daughter, Ellen, who is a R.N. to help us understand it.

I decide to sit back and stay silent.  I don’t need to discuss this right now.  The truth will work itself out.

Rationally thinking, Erica and I are probably both right.  I mean, if the doctors are in there doing surgery and see a little bit of cancer, they are going to cut it out.  They are not going to just leave it in her so they can do yet another surgery later to remove it.  So, yeah, they took it out.  But she is likely not cancer-free.  This is more than likely a recurrence.

Doctor's report on Mom's cancer

Roy and I went to visit mom again at M.D. Anderson.  Aaron, Candice, Wolfie, and Drew went along with us.  We leave early (about 5:30 a.m.) so we can be there early enough to see the doctor.  Around the corner from the hospital, we stop at a grocery store for flowers and are greeted in the entrance by shelves of orchids.  Around the bottom of the flower are several other types of greenery. I like them because they are planted and less likely to decay too fast.  Drew and Candice pick out their favorite.

Roy is in a wheelchair he is still in a lot of pain from his knee surgery.  We stroll/roll into the room and present her with the flower.  She loves it and I place it in the window and add a bit of water.  Mom is a tad groggy and has just finished her morning Boost drink.  This is all that she can stomach right now. She drinks about two a day, but on a good day, three.  She asks me to make her one of her mixed drinks (a 50/50 concoction of citrus green tea and apple juice) which we have all come to refer to as “her cocktails”.

We all sit and visit for about an hour and then the nurse comes in to clean her up so I send everyone to the “Observation Floor” which is the very top floor where people can lounge and look out across the town from all sides of the building.  I sit with mom.

After a while, I try to bring up the papers she needs to sign. She had asked me to bring the Franchise Tax papers so she could sign and I could send for filing, also forms from the broker regarding her shares getting transferred to another brokerage firm, and the title to her truck because she wants Aaron to have it.  I show them to her so she can review to see if they are filled out correctly but she is in some pain and doesn’t want to deal with the Franchise Tax. She semi-signs the papers from the broker, and she decides that she would rather gift the title to Aaron because it’s cheaper for him.  I put the papers up not wanting to deal with it anymore.

A “white coat” comes in.  She’s cute with pixie-cut red hair and extra piercings in her ears. She hands some paperwork to me with information about mom’s diagnosis and procedures.  Some of it is Greek to me, and other parts are more obvious – overall, it doesn’t help clear up anything really.  She goes on to say that they biopsied two “balls” medically referred to as “punches” and both came back as benign and unidentifiable. These punches were then sent to a skin specialist who also could not identify them.  “So they’re anomalies then?” I ask humorously.  “Yes” she replies with a giggle.  (Leave it to mom to render everyone clueless.)

She explains that during the surgery on the fistula the doctor found another very small cancer.  He was very surprised by this and she couldn’t say whether it was a recurrence, or whether it was left behind from the surgery to remove the cancer last February.  She says it could have been so small that it was missed, but that would be very, very unlikely.

She goes on to explain “there is no time line, that’s up to your mom…” (I don’t know if she’s referring to mom’s state of mind and the importance of a positive or negative attitude or if she’s referring to mom deciding whether or not she wants to have more surgery.)  “We could remove it but we might be chasing our tails and, your mom’s really tired.”  She doesn’t know if cancer is traveling through mom’s system or not but confirms, “oh yes, she still has cancer.” 

I’m taken aback some by the differences in what I am told today by the doctor and what mom had initially said.  First, the doctor did know whether the cancer was traveling through her body.  Second, there was no timeline given to mom.  I worry that mom, being a bit delirious, reported a more dramatic prognosis for herself.  Did she jump to conclusions. Have we been misled and have I inadvertently misled my children? I try to rationalize. 

Look, this cancer first reared its head a year ago. Made a reappearance in December (less than a year later) and grew quickly and invasively in a matter of a couple of months.  They took it out again clearing a wide margin to ensure that they had everything, and already in only a month, we are seeing it again.  Realistically, this thing is in her body and it is terminal. So, despite the differences in reports, it is all still very serious.  And I knew this.  It’s been in my head that the longer she stays in that hospital, and the continued complications, she is still in very critical condition.  But, if Brenda and Erica hear this report as I heard it, knowing my sisters, I can already guess their reaction.  Brenda will hit the roof, and Erica, since she is buddying up with Brenda, will likely follow her lead.

I text the family to come back down to visit with mom more.  We get in about another hour and then mom needs her urostomy cleaned up.  Knowing the stench from this, I quickly shuffle the family back out of the room.  I stay. 

Brenda, Erica, and Kaitlyn arrive about 2:30 or 3:00.  Erica has the folder with funeral arrangements; however, there are no specific instructions, just a few poems, bible verses, and song suggestions that mom likes.  Erica asks mom about who she would like to officiate over the funeral ceremony and there is some discussion before she opts for Brenda’s suggestion, a preacher who is evidently somewhat familiar with mom somehow.  Erica asks mom which funeral home she would prefer and mom opts for the same place used for dad’s funeral.  Mom waves Kaitlyn over to her and hugs her.  They break down in sobs and mom apologizes for the dire prognosis and reminds Kaitlyn of how much she loves her.  Brenda and Erica cry and I’m fighting the tears back.  Erica presents a card to mom made special by her daughter, Rachael. Again, everyone is crying and I’m, again, fighting back tears. 

It’s about 3:15 and I know my family is long past hungry so I text them to come down and say goodbye.

They enter and make their way around the room, hugging mom goodbye, and Brenda stops each one to pass out hugs.  Brenda is either well over our drama from the hotel stay or putting on a really good front.  Either way, it’s a relief. Erica is still not speaking to me. When I say anything, she refuses to even look in my direction. Her head is cocked as if to intentionally snub me. I’m trying to take the high road and treat her as if we can have an argument but we can get over it like adults, but times like these frustrate me all over again and I really do want to yell at her. I’ve sent her text messages here and there about mom, and reminding her that I loved her (with no reply).  I’ve had talks with her on the phone a couple times at most, but something in her voice told me she was still angry and only speaking with me because she felt she had to.  Brenda’s impressed with how much Wolfie has grown – he’s taller than me and giving Aaron some competition finally.  As I leave, I hug Brenda, Kaitlyn, and then grab Erica by the wrist forcing her up and into a hug. I squeeze her tightly only to find out later that she’d made a face behind my back (I can imagine her quite clearing doing her rolling of the eyes thing).