After being diagnosed with stage 4 Lymphoma we knew it was going to be an uphill battle for my mom. She spent the first 3 weeks in the hospital, where she had begun her first rounds of Chemo. Upon returning for labs a week or so later, we received the news that we had been hoping for her labs looked good the chemo looked like it was working. She had her second round of Chemo and then, it just seemed to go down hill from from there. She couldn't get keep her white blood cells up or her platelets to low. She would be come dehydrated from throwing up so much. She had uncontrollable bleeding from her bladder that was very painful for her. Excruciating pains radiating down her arm, kidney failure...the list went on and on. She just couldn't seem to get a break. I reached a point that I became angry. Wondering WHY???? Why did she have to suffer so much. I knew she had cancer. I got that! But come on! Why did she have to go through so much "extra stuff". Watching her have to suffer was sometimes simply unbearable.
As a result of all the complications and such, my poor mom RARELY got the spend a full week at home. She was having to be sent to the Emergency Room because of infection or admitted back into the Huntsman Cancer institute to receive more platelets. Whenever I could, I would make the drive up to the hospital, to be there with her and to comfort my dad. It became almost a daily ritual driving up there and I was pretty sure my car could get there by itself, since I was making the drive so often. I can remember entering the Hospital each time, taking a deep breath and saying "here we go again." Often times I would get that feeling of not wanting to drive up there AGAIN! and that I needed a little break today from the hospital. But then I would quickly think of my mom and of my dad who was spending many sleepless nights and days taking care of my mom. And how they would really like to have a break too, but didn't quite have that option and I would find myself trekking my butt back up there. I always thought in the back of my mind "won't it be so nice when my mom is cured and we don't have to come back here?"
That is what made leaving for the last time, so difficult to take. That last ride down the elevator. As I was pulling out of the parking garage for the very last time, I felt so let down and defeated. I was pulling out, walking away WITHOUT my mom. They, THE world renowned Huntsman Cancer Institute the one in the forefront of cancer research could not fix my mom. I was heartbroken. I was empty. We had lost.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
My Mother's Hands
Night time is the hardest part of the day for me. Every night as I lay in bed, thoughts of my mother come flowing back. My mind just doesn't seem to shut off as dreaming of her has seem to become a nightly ritual for me. My nights are spent reliving the time spent in the hospital with her, her last birthday, her last days here on earth. My mind just doesn't seem to turn off. And missing her, is continually getting worse. Since it seems to be getting more difficult to fall asleep I thought that I might as well write down my thoughts and memories of her. So my next group of postings are going to be random and in no special order. And most likely not well written or thought out for that matter. They are just going to be what I am remembering tonight.
Tonight I can't stop thinking of my mother's hands. Whenever it was time to say our goodbye's after visiting my mom. She would reach out to grab our hands and say say "I love you". I have always known that my mother had beautiful, no I mean gorgeous hands. Long slender fingers and always perfectly manicured nails. She seriously should have been a hand model. I on the other hand have short stubby fingers. Can'y grow nails to save my life. And those that I do grow, I just end up chewing off. But each time I got ready to leave and I'd squeeze her hands. I would linger just a little longer, and rub them so gently. I have never felt hands so soft as my mom's and I would often comment to her how soft her hand were. Deep down inside I stroked her hands not ever wanting to forget her softness, but also not wanting to loose the love that flowed through her body to mine, as our hands were intertwined.
My mom was always feeling pretty crappy, and while at the hospital, a lot of time, she didn't feel like a lot of visitors. She was especailly concerned about her grankids and didn't want to scare them, by seeing her so sick and hooked up to so many different lines of medicine. I as a mom didn't want to make my kinds worry about their grandma being sick. We really never talked about her dieing, but just mainly talked as if she was very, very sick and that cancer kills "some people". We had taken the kids to Lagoon one day, and I told Brian that I thought that on our way home, we needed to stop by the hospital and let my kids see my mom. I didn't want them to worry about her, but I wanted them to see how sick she was "just in case" something was to happen and she passed away, with them only thinking that she just had a little illness like the flu or something. I wanted them to see that she was "really" sick. Just "in case" I didn't want them to be totally shocked. Our visit was very brief, and we only stated a few minutes, as she would tire easily and start coughing uncontrolably if she talked too much. But again as we were getting ready to leave, my mom reached out to grab my hands, and I said "Mom I just can't believe how soft your hands are. Here guys, I want you to come feel how soft grandma's hands are." Then each one of my kids, one by one, went and grabbed my mothers hand as she gently caressed their hand in hers, and each one told her that they loved her. At the time my kids thought I was pretty silly. Little did they know, that would be the last time they would ever feel my mother's soft loving hands. The last time they would tell her that they loved her. And the last time they would hear that she loved them too, as my mother would pass away the following week. Oh how I hope to never forget those hands. Their beauty, their softness and especially the love that flowed through them. The love that can only come from a mother's touch.
Tonight I can't stop thinking of my mother's hands. Whenever it was time to say our goodbye's after visiting my mom. She would reach out to grab our hands and say say "I love you". I have always known that my mother had beautiful, no I mean gorgeous hands. Long slender fingers and always perfectly manicured nails. She seriously should have been a hand model. I on the other hand have short stubby fingers. Can'y grow nails to save my life. And those that I do grow, I just end up chewing off. But each time I got ready to leave and I'd squeeze her hands. I would linger just a little longer, and rub them so gently. I have never felt hands so soft as my mom's and I would often comment to her how soft her hand were. Deep down inside I stroked her hands not ever wanting to forget her softness, but also not wanting to loose the love that flowed through her body to mine, as our hands were intertwined.
My mom was always feeling pretty crappy, and while at the hospital, a lot of time, she didn't feel like a lot of visitors. She was especailly concerned about her grankids and didn't want to scare them, by seeing her so sick and hooked up to so many different lines of medicine. I as a mom didn't want to make my kinds worry about their grandma being sick. We really never talked about her dieing, but just mainly talked as if she was very, very sick and that cancer kills "some people". We had taken the kids to Lagoon one day, and I told Brian that I thought that on our way home, we needed to stop by the hospital and let my kids see my mom. I didn't want them to worry about her, but I wanted them to see how sick she was "just in case" something was to happen and she passed away, with them only thinking that she just had a little illness like the flu or something. I wanted them to see that she was "really" sick. Just "in case" I didn't want them to be totally shocked. Our visit was very brief, and we only stated a few minutes, as she would tire easily and start coughing uncontrolably if she talked too much. But again as we were getting ready to leave, my mom reached out to grab my hands, and I said "Mom I just can't believe how soft your hands are. Here guys, I want you to come feel how soft grandma's hands are." Then each one of my kids, one by one, went and grabbed my mothers hand as she gently caressed their hand in hers, and each one told her that they loved her. At the time my kids thought I was pretty silly. Little did they know, that would be the last time they would ever feel my mother's soft loving hands. The last time they would tell her that they loved her. And the last time they would hear that she loved them too, as my mother would pass away the following week. Oh how I hope to never forget those hands. Their beauty, their softness and especially the love that flowed through them. The love that can only come from a mother's touch.
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