Reality Check
The last 32 days since we returned from Hawaii may have been some of the most excruciatingly painful, yet blissfully joyous days (in the most twisted of ways) possible. Time has moved at a snails pace, but also at a lightening speed. Mom rallied in the most incredible upswing the past two weeks. We went shopping, we made lists, we made plans, we drank wine!! Aaron Brothers, Target, Ikea, and LGO had nothing on us. It was perfect. It was refreshing. She was our Mom. Vibrant. Happy. Positive. Brave.
Saturday was a great day. Mom was able to spend 6 much needed hours with my sisters and her siblings. However, as nature has reminded us time and time again: with the good, comes the bad. Michelle spent the night on Saturday so I could get some sleep. Around 3am I heard excessive coughing and some struggling from the room down the hall. I ran into the room only to see Michelle look at me with that wide-eyed panicked look. Instantly, I knew that things were not ok. Mom began to feel overwhelmed by the sensation of being “air hungry.” Feeling claustrophobic, she started ripping off the sheets, her oxygen tube, her sweater…basically anything that was touching her. It was the definition of panic; for her and for us. Needless to say, this event was proceeded by hours of restlessness. Yesterday morning was no better. I woke my mom at 5:20am for an early morning dose of Ativan and Dilaudid before I took off to meet with my 6am clients. As she swallowed the first pill she became overwhelmed by the same incessant air hungry feeling. I immediately fell into panic myself but tried not to stay there for too long. I turned on soothing music, I massaged her back, I did everything I could think of to bring her back to a happy place. I have never been hungry for air. I have never felt like I could do nothing to nourish my body with the most essential of elements. How scary… How frustrating!!!! The look in my Mom’s eyes in that moment was the one I hoped I’d never have to see. For the first time in a week, my Mom’s condition was real again. At the moment, I wasn’t staring at my Mom, I was staring at ovarian cancer. I was staring at the monster who STOLE my mother. I missed my 6am class with no hesitation. My job at the moment is to be with my mom. To help her fight the devil that she is too weak to fight alone.
This morning was significantly better. Mom’s new pain pump has made a substantial difference in her ability to calm herself when she is anxious, or air hungry. We have placed a fan next to her bed side so she can feel the air on her face. She is experiencing instant relief in moments of panic. In a moment of total calm, I laid side by side with my Mom on her twin sized hospital bed. I held her hand and told her how much I love her and how much I miss her. I told her that I am thankful for every day that she is still here because it is one less day that I will have to live without her.
My sisters and I have attempted to remain as consistent as possible in our general attitude and outlook on this experience. However, it has been difficult to not swing with the pendulum when it is swinging so hard. I apologize if our blogs have seemed blunt…or even a little too raw recently. But, to put it in the most plain as possible words – we are sad. We miss our Mom. We miss the woman who lives life on a whim…who is full of life, energy, and compassion. I am PROUD to be my mother’s daughter. But, I am ANGRY at the guiding force that chose my Mom’s life to take. I have tried to stay as positive as possible throughout this experience by understanding that while we may not be happy about how her life is ending, we are grateful that she seized every opportunity to maximize the amount of life that she was given.
To our BEAUTIFUL and INSPIRING mother, WE LOVE YOU.
– B