The Day My World Changed Forever

Tuesday came out of nowhere. Things had been relatively quiet Monday night. It's the first night I'd slept...since Friday? Our night nurse was an angel. I remember hearing her and my Mom around 3AM. My Mom was walking back to bed. Everything seemed pretty normal. As normal as you can get in the hospital.

We were up around 6AM. Prepping for my Mom's bone marrow biopsy. I'd been trying to talk her out of it. I didn't feel like it was necessary. Not at this point. Maybe we could wait. Until she was stronger. Or felt better. But she was still able to make her own decisions. So we had to let her. 

By 9AM she was having a lot of pain. I had been asking for hours, to speak with the oncologist on duty. I just felt like I needed a second opinion. Was my Mom dying? Was there something I could do? Was she just sick? And needed some help?

I managed to take a shower. And while I was in the shower, PT came around. My Mom was so exhausted! It took everything out of her to sit up. Then stand up. Take a few steps. And lay back down. The pain was unreal as well.

Everything started happening so quickly after that. PT was recommending her to go to an Impatient Rehab facility. PT and the Hospitalist were thinking Thursday would be a good day to transfer her. Because it had been a holiday weekend, we hadn't seen many of the people we should have. All the referrals were suddenly happening at once. Her Hospitalist came to see her. And noticed how different she was too.

Then the Bone Marrow Biopsy Team came in like a rush of bulls. Started prepping everything. No one had time to talk to me. I just didn't feel right about this. And my Mom's pain was getting worse. She hadn't really eaten in days. It was taking everything in her, to eat the small amounts she was managing. And that was only because I was feeding her. 

I know the drill when it comes to BMBs. I've been there for every single one she's had. As time has gone on, they've gotten more and more difficult to do. Mostly because my Mom's bones were getting so brittle. So it takes a bit longer than normal. She was in pain. We didn't have the normal doctor that she was used to.

Eventually, the doctor asked me to help. He was on the opposite side of the bed. His nurse was behind him. And someone that they were training was at the foot of the bed. He was a big guy. But completely overwhelmed by what was happening. He honestly looked like he might pass out at any moment. So I tried to comfort my Mom. I talked to her. Held her as still as I could. And watched...

The doctor was having such a difficult time getting a sample. He asked me a bunch of questions. I told him as much as I could. Eventually, after 90 minutes? He got what he thought was a good enough sample. Then the bleeding wouldn't stop. And they started calling the Oncology and ICU teams...

It was a lot to deal with. My Mom was crying in agony. Her abdomen was hurting her. We were having to keep pressure on the insertion point. I even had to help with that. While the team met outside the room to talk. And try to find some sort of bandage to assist with the bleeding. On top of all of this...we had to keep her as still as possible.

I don't know how long it took. I think the BMB Team was with us for about 3 hours. Eventually, the bleeding slowed. My Mom was given a gigantic amount of pain meds. That weren't helping. The fear in her eyes. Gosh, I can't get that imagine out of my mind. It's so hard to deal with. And to hear her cries. 

Eventually that team left. I asked the nurse again...if I could speak with someone from Oncology. I was sincerely considering...calling Dr. N. In his office. I was starting to get desperate. We hadn't seen anyone from Oncology. And my Mom had been at the hospital 6 days. I just needed to know...if it was time to just make her comfortable.

About this time, Dr. W came to see us. I think he could tell I was so stressed out. On the brink of a breakdown. The tears were only being held back, by pure prayers. Dr. W listened to me. And I to him. We looked at my Mom's chart. And her medical wishes. And determined that it was time for Hospice. He was sure, she wouldn't make it home. But figured we could get her to the Hospice Unit at the hospital. And that my Mom might have a couple of days. 

He hugged me. And for the first time, I cried. The stress of the weekend, finally broke me. To be honest, I had wished that we had been there a week earlier. Because Dr. N had been working in the hospital. Maybe I would have had a clearer mind. Just knowing I could have asked him anything. He was familiar with my Mom. Someone that I would have felt comfortable, having these tough discussions with. I also sincerely missed being in the Oncology Unit. Where I felt safe. Because the staff makes you feel safe.

As Dr. W left to go write the orders. So we could be moved in a couple of hours...I walked back into the room. Still shocked. So this was it? My Mom was dying. I didn't know how to deal with all of that news. My sister called. We'd been playing phone tag. The nurse came to check the bandage. Which needed to be changed for the 3rd time in about an hour. Obviously, the bleeding was still an issue...

I walked into the bathroom to talk to my sister. All of a sudden, I heard all this noise. And basically hung up on her. I walked out to the nurse in a bit of a panic. Trying to get my Mom's pulse. She had monitors on her ears, toes, and both hands. She called the Charge Nurse. They basically had my Mom upside down at this point. And everyone was trying to keep their cool. But I knew. I knew what was happening. I just felt it in the pit of my stomach...

I stepped out of the room. To let the staff work. To try and calm myself. I knew what was happening. But I didn't know how to process it. I walked to the area where the two towers meet. Sat down and looked outside. My cousin had text to see how things were going. I just wrote back. "It's so bad. Please let your mom know to come ASAP." I walked back into our unit. It's all just steps from my Mom's room, to this bench I was sitting on. And on the unit I sat on the little bench at the end of the hallway. Watching people running in and out of her room. Seeing all the chaos. And not knowing what to do. 

I was alone in that moment. And I knew I was about to be alone in this world. I knew that I was losing my Mom. Way too early in her life. She had so much life to live. And there was absolutely nothing I could do to help her. 

At this point, I see her Hospitalist running into her room. The doors fly open. The crash cart is being wheeled to her room. There is a nurse plugging it in. And I ran as fast as I could. The paddles were coming out. And I physically put myself between them and my Mom. I pleaded with the team to stop. To just stop. They were no longer doing my Mom any good.

Shaking. And with tears streaming down my face...I begged them to stop. I explained to the doctor, that Dr. W and I had decided to put my Mom on Hospice. And that he was putting the orders in. The Team looked at me...with pitty and horror. But they stopped. They tried to make my Mom comfortable. And tried to make the room as normal as they could.

Dr. U talked to me. That Hospice was no longer an option. That maybe the BMB was too much. But they'd provide Comfort Care. And he'd remain at the hospital, as long as my Mom was alive. I knew we didn't have much time. I knew it. Not just because of what I witnessed from my Mom. But because of the look in his eyes. The tone in his voice. And honestly...what doctor tells you they'll stay until the end. If the end is not near?

My Mom's nurse and doctor came in with meds. To make her comfortable. I asked if my Aunts and Uncles could come in. Would we be restricted to visitors? They assured me, we'd be OK. And they went to get the priest for us. By the time my Aunts and Uncle got there, the priest was there too. We'd just seen him.

I think he was as shocked as I was. He spoke with us. Tried to help us find some peace, as my Mom transitioned. Gave us suggestions of things to hold onto. We prayed. And after he left, I put on some religious music for my Mom. Sat by her bed. Held her hand. And prayed. 

I didn't want to be selfish. I wanted my Mom to be comforted at this time. I needed to be strong. To be with her. As scary as it was. As ill prepared as I was. As suddenly as it all happened. I wanted my Mom to be comfortable. And surrounded by peace and love.

We'd talked off and on. About her final wishes. She wanted everything done, to live. Except being put on machines for an extended period of time. She didn't want to suffer the same way my Dad did. She wanted to live. But only if she could live a life. I prayed that I was making the best decisions for her. Doing things the way she had wished. And not because I didn't want my Mom to die.

There were so many things we were supposed to have done. Places to visit. Things to experience. My Mom was supposed to be a Grandma at some point. There were so many more conversations we were supposed to have had. But in those moments, I couldn't think of any of it.

Around 5PM, my cousin came in. And in that moment, my Mom passed. We saw her take her last breath. After a few moments, we called the nurse. And she let the doctor know. Shortly, he came to exam my Mom. And to confirm what we knew...

It was a lot to bare. I left my Aunts, Uncles, and cousins with my Mom. And went back to that bench. I needed to call the Mortuary. All the big decisions. Who to use? What exactly did I need to do? I couldn't remember from 7 years prior. I finally made the call. Let the Charge Nurse know. I sent texts. Made phones calls. Barely kept it together. I don't even remember how I told my sister. I honestly don't. But I know I let her know.

At some point, my family came to tell me Goodbye. And I went to go back to my Mom. I spoke with the nurses. Who were going to clean my Mom's body and prepare her. They asked if I wanted her socks and jewelry. Was there anything they could do for me?

There are no words to express how difficult this was. How alone I felt. The staff was amazing. Dr. U kept his word. Stayed at the hospital. At the desk outside my Mom's room. I can still remember seeing him, when I left that night. My Mom's nurse stayed past Shift Change. They gave me time with my Mom. Alone. They packed up our belongings. All the snacks they'd brought us earlier in the day. Boxes and boxes of tissues. The Night Nurse came and sat with me. Let me cry. Assured me, they'd be there. If and when I needed anything. That night. In the future. Whenever I needed them. 

Eventually, the Mortuary came. Gave me some time with my Mom, after they had prepared her for transport. They gave me some meaningful gifts. And all the information I'd need in the coming days. And they were gone. They'd taken my Mom. And I was alone.

I sat in that empty room. Not sure which way was up. Not knowing how to put one foot in front of the other. Had I been stupid? Blind? In denial? Had my Mom been that sick? Did this all just happen this quick? I still don't have those answers. And probably never will. 

What I do know is, I'll never forget my Mom. I'll always think of her in this way. Full of life. Ready for adventure. And so excited to be in nature and surrounded by animals. We didn't have a perfect relationship. In fact, we didn't really get close until my Dad's passing. 7 years. Doesn't seem like it was long enough.

I feel like I could have done so much more. Made her life so much better. In so many ways, I feel like I failed my Mom. I tried so hard every single day. But it never felt like it was enough. Maybe we just never got past losing my Dad. But I feel like I could have done more. Been more. Provided a better life for her.

It's all hard. I don't know which way to turn first. I spent nearly all night on the phone. Once I got home Tuesday. Talking to an amazing family friend. And maybe got 2 hours of sleep. I took the dogs out on a long walk yesterday morning. And spoke with the Mortuary. But it was just a day of being alone. I needed it. Our dogs needed it. My soul needed it. 💜

Always Grateful

We're very grateful today. My Mom gets to go home. She is super excited. Am I 100% convinced that she is ready? No. But I'm her daughter and her caregiver. So I tend to worry too much as well. 

I will never stop believing in miracles. Or in prayer. I'm super grateful that my Mom is doing so much better. I'm grateful for all the amazing nurses, techs, therapists, everyone in the food department, and all of the people who helped with testing. Also the housekeeper. She was so sweet. We also got the best visit from the Support Dogs today. It made my Mom so happy and excited!

Most of all, I'm grateful for her doctors. Her oncologist, whom we trust so very much. He always treats my Mom with such care and respect. To Dr. Iggy...he's been my Mom's doctor before. He is just so straight forward. And I appreciate that. We cannot forget our nephrology team. Who have been so supportive during such rocky times. 

I'm grateful. I believe that God is watching over us. He's listening to our prayers. And sending all of these amazing men and women...to take care of my Mom. I'm grateful. You just don't understand how much. My heart is so full...because my Mom gets to go home. The smile on her face...is worth a million words. Now we just pray for good test results. 💜

She Is Brave

 I keep telling my Mom just how brave she is. I don't think she realizes it. I think she doubts herself. My Dad's journey keeps creeping in. When you don't want it to. She thinks of everything he went through. And she gets scared. I get it. 

But with all her injuries. All the set backs. All the pain. My Mom is pushing forward. Yesterday was the first time, I saw her super anxious and not in full control. It was tough. And I was struggling with that. 

Because anyone that knows my Mom, knows how strong she is. She is fierce! The kind of lady that you don't want to fight with. I don't remember her falling apart when my Dad was sick. We all had that initial shock. Cried. And then picked up the pieces to help him on his journey.

Yesterday we couldn't calm my Mom down after her MRI. She's had them before. But something was different yesterday. And today, she needed a Lumbar Puncture. It's not anxiety before the procedure. So much as it's post-scan/test. And the anxiety isn't even about waiting on results. It's about the procedure. 

Today they needed to see if she could lay on her stomach or right side. And we were struggling. The techs downstairs kept calling. My Mom was in so much pain. But she was trying. Eventually the doctor made the decision to just send her downstairs. Let that team, take a go at it. So we'd stop tiring her out.

They ordered transport. And we prayed. It also happened that a priest had come by earlier. To pray, bring us communion, and to anoint her. So we prayed some more. I asked various people to pray. And right now, they are downstairs.

But my Mom is so brave. She needs this test to confirm the type of cancer that is present. And so they know how to move forward. I know my Mom was scared. I saw the shaking hands. The silent tears that escaped her eyes. And I heard it in her voice. But when her tech walked in the room, she told her, "Let's do this."

My strong Mom is out there being strong. She's so brave. And she's a fighter. Boy is she a fighter! Please keep her in your prayers. I don't normally document these things on here. But I want you to know, my Mom is brave. And we're going to fight this fight together. 

As a caregiver, I might cry. Like today. In the stairwell. Because my Mom was in so much pain. And trying to be brave. Not asking for meds. I might cry, when the doctor says something. And I'm so grateful we have to wear these masks. That absorb all my silent tears. That I hope I'm hiding...but they're probably falling anyway. 

I've been trying to practice some self care. Even here at the hospital. Sunrise walks around the hospital. Visiting the little bunnies in the garden...2 or 3 times a day. Running up and down 6 flights of stairs...4 times. At least twice a day. Little things. Taking a few minutes to shower. Also allowing myself to feel things as they're happening. Even if I cry in the stairwell. I'm not ashamed. I know this is hard. I know we have a long road. And I know I'm only human. I just hope...I'm half as brave as my Mom. 💜

Have Faith

I'm not sure if you are people of faith. But we are. I can say, over the last 10 years...my faith has been tested...more than once. I've questioned it. Believed. And held tight to my faith. 

It's not always been pretty. Or something that brought me comfort. But it is something that has given me strength. Grace. And courage. I found in the darkest moments of my life...my faith has grown the most!

I'm not going to lie here. During my Dad's last 6-9 months of life...I was barely hanging on. By the time Sunday morning would roll around, I could barely get him ready. On time. To go to Church with my Mom. 

I'd use the 2-3 hours that they were gone...to sleep. Maybe take a long shower. Mostly cry. Get all of the emotion out of my system, before they got home. I couldn't even imagine going to church. The thing I had done my entire life. 

It didn't mean that I lost my faith. Not by any means. It just meant, that the structure of my faith was changing. I read the bible more. Studied it harder. Spent more time, reflecting with God.

I watched God work through my Dad. I saw God, through my Dad's eyes. It brought me closer to my Maker. To see my Dad, as he was being called home. To watch the peace take over his body, as he was meeting our Maker.

I can say, without any doubt, I met God. When my Dad was dying. He is the reason I made it through that part of my journey. It's not something you can study. Or learn. It has to be lived. You have to experience it, to know it. I've tried many times to explain it...but words fail me.

Even in my Dad's last hours, I chose God over fear. Knowing that my Dad, was going to meet our Maker. Knowing he'd be reunited with our loved ones. That the Angels were calling him home. And our family and friends, would be waiting. To celebrate with him. 

It still makes me emotional to talk about. To try and explain. My Dad passed before Easter. And that Easter Season, my soul was wide open. Ready for God's love, mercy, and grace. I was raw with emotion.

But not once, was I full of fear. No. Even in those last few moments, I had peace. Because I had months, to prepare for those moments. To know, my Dad would no longer be hurting, in pain, or suffering. Did I want my Dad to be with us longer? Yes! But I couldn't watch the cancer eating him alive. 

With my Mom, it's been a bit different. Maybe the experience of the previous 5 or so years. Maybe it's that I'm closer to God. Or that I've survived such sorrow. But it's different.

Even for my Mom. We feel more peace. What's to be, is to be. We can't predict the future. We can't change it. But we can have faith. Not just in God. But in our medical team. In the people who provide her care.

My Mom hasn't been feeling well. For over a month. It started before Christmas. There are moments...and maybe even a day or 2, when she feels OK. But nothing that really turns the tide.

She skipped Church almost the entire month of January. For me, that's always a HUGE red flag. That she's not doing well. For a few weeks, she was sleeping more...than she was awake. 

Sunday we had decided to sell at our Church's Craft Show. Just to get out of the house. We never make a ton of money. It's more about being with our Church family. My Mom had been sleeping a ton, prior. And just not feeling great.

But on Sunday, she went and hung out with some of our friends. Helped them at the food stand. Passing out drinks. Laughing. It was pretty amazing to see! It's just another reminder, of how great God is. When we least expect it, he shows us that he is still in control. I've learned, I have to hold onto my Faith...or I'll NEVER make it through this journey. 💜