Trying to Find My Way Back

When I first entered the HealthCare arena...as a working professional, I was 20 years old. I lived and went to school in a community that was underserved. And depended greatly on the college students. Who at the time, worked in our local healthcare system, and held 80% of those jobs. The thing is, my college has this amazing nursing program. And the Nutrition Program is also greatly sought after. A little hidden gem if I'm being honest. 

So weeks into switching my major, I was working at my local Department of Health Office. About 2 months in, I was in the ICU of our local hospital. It was all very quick. But then again, I was a quick study. My professors and the doctors I worked under, felt like I could handle it all.

I spent a solid 10 years working. In hospitals. In clinics. Doing research studies for the Universities I attended. Eventually, I became a contractor for the Hospital System my family uses. And when I made that leap, to move home and take care of my aging parents, I slowly slipped away from work.

Maybe I was naive. I thought after my Mom's services, I'd be back to work. Maybe take the Summer off. And then jump head first. What I didn't anticipate was the mental unpreparedness. 

For the first couple of years, after I moved to take care of my Dad, I had continued to work. When and where I could. I was a contractor where he received care. So I'd fill the gaps where I could. Mostly working at the Main Hospital. On weekends, I'd drive 4 hours to return to the Children's Hospital where I worked. During the week, I'd check into our local hospital when I could. I also had a pretty flexible position within our state's Department of Health.

Eventually my Dad's health got to be so bad, that I had to stop working. His care, basically became 24/7/365. We couldn't trust him to drive. He was being hospitalized more and more often. Falls were so common, the local Fire House knew us personally. Things were just spiraling downward. And when my Mom could step in to help...it usually left me doing something for their business. So work was on hold. 

After my Dad's death, I struggled. Mostly silently. With grief. I tried to keep everything together. More so for my Mom. She needed me to be strong. I continued to go to a Support Group that we'd attended as a family. In the Cancer Center where my parents received care. I'd visit my Dad's grave daily, while my Mom was at work. She'd returned part time. 5 months after his death. But I knew I was having a tough time. I saw the hard stuff, that no one else saw. I helped my Dad, keep things from my Mom. Like when I actively knew he was dying. And so did he. But he didn't want her to know.

I gave my Mom and I a goal. One year. At one year, I'd start taking the necessary steps to move back to my home. To reclaim my life. And to get back to the career I'd abandoned. I also felt like that was a good amount of time, to attend the Support Group. Not to mention, I was having TeleMed appointments with my therapist 4 hours away.

Something was off with my Mom. I thought it was the grief of losing my Dad. She didn't go to counseling like I did. She didn't even know that I was seeing a therapist. My Mom held tight to her faith. When I brough up moving, my Mom slightly panicked. 

I thought maybe it was because she hadn't really taken care of any finances, since her and my Dad got together. And after his death, I was the one paying the bills. Making sure things stayed on track. But that wasn't it either. Maybe she didn't want to live alone. I mean, we sort of inherited a dog 2 weeks after my Dad died. And when I brought up moving...my Mom instantly fought me for the dog. The dog she didn't want, when my cousin didn't pick her up. The dog that was attached to me. Literally, attached to my side. At all times. So I'd spend 3 months looking in all the City Shelters. To be told, I needed to get a puppy. Or the two dogs would never get along. Long story short, I ended up with a puppy. So technically, neither of us would be alone.

But that wasn't it either. We'd spent that first summer, basically at my Dad's graveside. Daily my Mom wanted to visit him. We'd have lunch there. Take the dog. Sit for hours. Listen to music. Read books. Just talk. About 9 months after his death, my Mom was just not OK. I couldn't put my finger on it. We were fighting a lot. She seemed off. But I didn't know what was really bothering her. 

I let things go for a few more months. I figured we could talk again, around the anniversary of my Dad's death. I thought, I could move in June. Take a few weeks to get things in order. Then I could go work in July. But my Mom wasn't having it. 

I knew she had a long trip planned with my Aunt and Uncle. So instead of going back to work in July, I told my supervisor, I'd go back in December. Why are those the only times when they want you to enter the workforce? It's a hospital thing. So we agreed December. But my Mom got sick that Summer. And was diagnosed with cancer in September. She spent at least 6 months, in excruciating pain. At diagnosis, the Hospitalist told her she could no longer work. Or drive. Basically, if she couldn't drive...she couldn't work. So there I was. Back at square one. Not sure what I should do.

My plans to go to work were thrown out the window. Fast forward a bit. About 6 months after my Mom's diagnosis...she either started to tolerate the pain better. Or maybe it got slightly better. She slowed significantly on her pain meds. And I decided, we needed some income. So I entered the workforce. With the Department of Health (DOH). Previously, I'd worked in their Clinics. Both the basic clinic. And with Women, Infants, and Children. So I took a job with WIC. 

I didn't realize it was going to be so tough. But it was, what it was. I worked online when I could. I'd go into one of our local offices to teach classes. Once a week. But my Mom, she wasn't doing well. She was struggling with basic stuff. The pain got worse. Neither of us had decent doctors. We were still trying to get her Health Insurance.

Eventually, I stopped going in to teach. Because I couldn't leave her. My Mom couldn't pick up a gallon of milk. Or bend to pick up laundry. She couldn't open a bottle of water. So I did the online thing. For a few months. Eventually, it just wasn't working out.

I'd spend the next 4 years, taking care of my Mom. We got into selling at our local Growers' Markets. Selling our crafts. I started helping friends. Who in return would give us veggies, pies, and bread. Whatever they sold. I just tried to help. And was so grateful for the help that they gave us in return. 

At the high point of the pandemic, I started doing TeleMed appointments. Both for the DOH/WIC and the Children's Hospital where I once worked. Technically, I'm on a leave of absence. I took FMLA when my Dad got sick...and then just changed the leave when my Dad's health worsened. 

From time to time, I still help them. Especially during RSV Season. I tried to convince a good friend of mine, to take a Part-Time RD job with them. But she is happily raising her daughters. I worked remotely from May 2020-July 2021. But my Mom was needing more and more help. By July she'd had two falls. And broken her arm multiple times. She know needed help bathing. I needed to do all the household chores. 

So naively, I thought I'd start working 6 months ago. Until my therapist raised the Red Flag of doom. That she didn't believe I was ready for work. Not only the stress. But it's not like I'm going to be behind a desk. Or dealing with numbers. Or cleaning. I'm going to have people's health and lives in my hands. She just didn't feel like I was ready.

In October I applied to volunteer. In the Hospital. It's a 5 minute drive from my home. I figured I could start with one day a week. See how everything goes. But that's not where they needed me. I ended up at the Hospital nearest the Cancer Center. Not with patients. But in the Gift Shop. Huh?

It's been OK. As my OCD has gotten worse, it has been a mixed blessing for the Gift Shop. I've torn it apart. Cleaned. Organized. I've decorated for every Holiday since I've been volunteering. In January, I started volunteering twice a week. When two of the volunteers got into a fight. 

For the last few weeks, I've been here three times a week. Because the other volunteers are struggling to get along. And they've taken some time off. Again, it's not the place where I want to be. I want to be making a real difference. Not staring at the walls. For 2 hours. Then having a big surge...of selling junk food. Then being bored and stocking shelves.

I know the employees value the Gift Shop being open daily. Especially since the cafeteria isn't always open. We're now open daily. For four hours. It's a steady thing. But last week, on my third day of the week being here. I decided to take a look at the Volunteer Listings. There's rarely anything at this location...that is available. Outside of the Gift Shop. So I started to read through all the listings.

I decided that maybe something clerical woud be good. I could do that for a few months. Then maybe move to something with the patients. I found something. Agreed to all the terms. Sent my necessary documents where they needed to go. And I got it. I was quite pleased with myself. Took all of 5 minutes. 

When I got home on Thursday, I decided to read through my emails. And I found the Volunteer email. I didn't realize it was for the Cancer Center. It's a clerical position. I honestly, don't have a clue what my duties are. The listings are pretty vague. Hence, I didn't know it was in the Cancer Center when I applied. 

It starts in May. I knew it was weekly. But I wasn't sure, how long it would be for. Turns out, 5 months. It also conflicts with one of my days in the Gift Shop. I knew that when I applied. But I'm OK with letting that go. Since my goal is to ultimately get back to work. The Gift Shop is not going to help with that. 

I truly hope that I do OK in this position. I'm hoping to also take a minor position at the Main Hospital. Reading to the NICU babies. That would be weekly as well. 4 hours too. I might try to start that one, later this month. Then if everything is going OK, by July, I'd like to talk to my therapist about going back to work again. Those are my goals to reclaiming my career. Little by little. 

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. 💜