Thank You!

It's not been the best week. Monday I had a big mix up with the pharmacy. I had a very emotional appointment at the OB/GYN. Why is the entire place covered in posters of babies? The hallways. The exam rooms. The checkout desks.

For someone like me...who's always wanted kids. It's hard. Just to go there. I was there for a shot and a checkup. To see if all the hormones are helping get my body back into a cycle. And I cried. Meltdown type of crying. I held it together in the waiting room. In fact, I gave one mom some breastfeeding tips. My years of working at WIC sometimes come in handy. 

But going into the exam room. It all just came out. And I cried so hard. The poor nurse. She was new to me. Because my midwife retired. And I'm now being floated between anyone who can see me. 

I'm also at a hormone peak. So I'm sure that doesn't help. Apparently my peak ovulation day was Tuesday. And my new midwife tells me, "Go home and get busy. You're not too old to be a momma." The tears silently soaked the inside of my mask. 

I almost wanted to ask...you got any single guys around here? Good ones. Not the creeps that keep sending me DMs on Instagram. Or the ones who scream cat calls at me when I'm running. Or the lazy ones who are looking for a Sugar Momma. But a good man. To not just make babies with. But to share my life with.

I kept my mouth shut. Let her do her exam. And ultrasound. Had my shot and left. The pharmacy messed up my Flu Shot appointment. And I had the world's toughest counseling session yet. I basically spent 2 hours in the fetal position crying. Childhood trauma is tough. Especially since I've never talked about these things before. To anyone. 

I was determined to make Tuesday better. Left my house early...but somehow still had to run 2 miles to Walgreens. Because I was somehow late to my appointment. Afterward I decided to take a stroll around our Old Town. And was devastated when the chain to my Mom's necklace broke. And I lost her cross. 

I spent hours retracing my steps. Crawling on my hands and knees. Going through the grass. Asking tourists if they'd seen it. Talking to shop keepers. Eventually sitting in the grass and crying. And I'm not even a crier. But this means so much to me. It was a symbol of her faith. How much she loved and trusted God. I still can't believe what happened...

Eventually I grabbed something to eat. Called my cousin and my Auntie. Because I needed to make sure they could help me next week. I'm having a colonoscopy and endoscope. And need to arrange my rides. Then...I talked to GI for a bit. 

Yesterday I walked back. Spent more hours searching. Praying. Talking to more strangers. Writing little MIA posters out. And taping them around. Surprisingly enough...many strangers helped me. I'm so very thankful. 

I even met a man who is a Metal Detector enthusiast. He was teaching me all about it. We searched for hours. With no luck. So I returned home after a trip to the grocery store.

Over 3 miles from the grocery store to my home.  Carrying pounds of fruit home. I was so tired. Emotionally spent. But I decided to work on one of my Mom's last requests. Thank You baskets for her Medical Team. 

I should have gotten better pictures. But I spent the entire night baking cookies. Then had an early Counseling session today. Another appointment. And a job interview. So I snapped this in the back of my Auntie's truck. Right before I started delivering them.

You know what? It made me feel so good! I showed up to Radiation first. I purposely went around lunchtime. Thinking...the offices will be much quieter. Less chance of running into someone I might know. Is that weird? I just didn't want to lose it...in a full office. Especially coming from a job interview. More on that later.

The receptionist was so grateful. My Mom never needed radiation. But I spent so much time there with my Dad. We did use other services in that office. Mostly the Dietitian. So I wrote a little card. And dropped off the basket. Happily accepted a hug. And went on my way.

I went next door. I mean I probably looked hilarious! Pencil skirt and stilettos. Carrying a gift bag bigger than myself. A smaller bag. 2 large buckets of snacks. And a gallon sized bag full of pills. This is my 3rd drop off of meds. How did we accumulate so many?

I didn't see anyone that I knew. Not the guy who usually greets us at the door. And checks our temperature. Not nurse Jackie. Or my Mom's MA Orly. I didn't run into her Oncologist. Or even see Melissa the clerk. 

I managed to get into an elevator. Prayed I wouldn't drop anything, fall down, or see anyone I know. Emotionally I wasn't sure I could handle it. I snuck by check in desks and made it to the checkout desks.

Only one person was working. I had never seen her before. So I had a seat. Covered in things. While the clerk helped setup appointments for a patient. And I kept thinking to myself...I'd like to work here one day. To be helpful to people. To be in this environment...were you make such a difference.

I was also silently praying...that my Mom's MA or Oncologist wouldn't wonder through the door. Maybe coming back from lunch. Or between patients. Because I knew I would burst into tears. And I wasn't sure that was the best for any of us.

After 30 minutes. Nearly having a heart attack because another oncologist, Dr. R walked 2 of his patients out during that time. And looking up how long the average oncologist goes to school for...Angela came to chat with me. 

She Thanked me a million times. Hugged me. Asked about my parents. Which got the tears rolling. Who am I? I've never cried this much in my entire life! But she listened to my story. And I just kept thinking...oh God help me get through this. Help me not completely lose it here.

Eventually I asked her about some other items I was needing to dispose of. A box of sharps. Liquid meds. A few narcotics. She disappeared into the back again. My anxiety started to get out of control. All of this is so new to me. But I tried to stay calm.

Eventually she came back with some answers. And a nurse. And more hugs. I was so happy to make a positive impact on them. Give them a little bit...of what this office gave my parents and I for 9 years.

I'm only sad about one thing. I came home this evening. Tried a cookie that I baked. And was not happy with them. At midnight they were soft and gooey. The chocolate chip cookies were so chewy. At 5PM...they'd gone a bit crunchy. Maybe I'll bake for the office again at Christmas time. 

I left there feeling lighter. One I'd accomplished something off my Mom's list. Half the Thank You baskets. In 2015...we cooked a feast for the office. In 2022...I baked 10 dozen cookies. And put together baskets that weighed a ton! I mean they still appreciated it. But I felt like I could have done better. 

I also dropped off a very important gift. My Mom had been making Dr. N. As much anxiety as I was feeling waiting in the office. I sort of wanted to see him open it up. Wanted to see his expression. Just because I know my Mom worked so hard on it. But I didn't see him. Or Orly. Maybe this is just where our stories end.

I left there and headed to Nephrology. Again...silently prayed that I wouldn't run into Christine. I'd love to see her. But wasn't sure having a complete meltdown in the waiting room was the best. The receptionist and MA were so grateful. Hugged me. And gave me their condolences as well. 

When I was walking out the door, I could hear them telling Dr. E about my Mom. And I nearly sprinted in my stilettos across the parking lot. And cried in the truck. I saw him walk out the door. And have never been so grateful for a work truck in my life! Who was blocking me from his view.

I got a lot of closure today. And peace. I had a good interview. I was offered a nice job. But it includes a lot of commuting out of town. Which I'm just not sure of right now. But it was a HUGE boost to my confidence.

But back to those baskets. It wasn't a ton. A few drinks. Some fruit. Candy. Those homemade cookies. And a bunch of snacks. I wish I could have done more. Sent them something amazing. But right now...it's what I can afford. I still need to make my way to Cardiology. And the hospital. I'd like to take 2 sets of baskets to Oncology and the ICU. Day and Night Shift.

I can't begin to express how grateful I am to all of these people. They made our journeys so much easier. All the doctors, nurses, MAs, NPs, receptionists, clerks, FA advisors. All of them. The cleaning crews. Everyone was so wonderful. 

After today...I'm really considering going all out at Christmas time. I love to bake! But have no one to bake or cook for anymore. And this is just a small way to show my appreciation. Because I swear to you...the people who work in Oncology are angels on Earth. 💜

His Kindness

I got the most unexpected call today. But it meant so much. I was having the worst day. As I'm sure so many of you, could imagine. The last few weeks have been so difficult. Unexpected. And have left me feeling so numb.

In all reality, I haven't processed the last few weeks. I haven't cried much. Haven't begun to grieve. I just feel like I'm in shock. Walking around not feeling. Just going through the motions. This is grief. It's real. It's powerful. It's hard. And heartbreaking.

My Mom's services were just over a week ago. I should have grieved then. Cried. Really felt all the feels. Been present in the day. And what was happening. But I was trying to be brave. Be solid for my family. Since my aunt was diagnosed with lung cancer, days after my Mom's death. She had a biopsy on the day of my Mom's rosary. My already emotional family...is teetering on the edge.

And then there was the financial stress of everything. I seemed head under, from day one. Doing it all on my own. Wishing I had the support of others. That people could see, I needed help. I literally was trying to pay the funeral off, up until hours before. I now owe some relatives. But at least my Mom is at rest. This all after I was attacked by our loved ones, because a friend setup a GoFundMe to help. And I closed it down, almost immediately. I'll struggle silently. Because I can't handle all of that drama. 

This week, has just been slow moving. I'm not sure, what's really been going on. The days bleed into each other. I seem to be struggling to keep going. I've reached out to my PCP, for Grief Support or counseling. And it fell on death ears. 

I'm struggling. So bad. My family doesn't seem to recognize or see what I'm going through. In fact, I haven't heard from any of them. I shouldn't be surprised. Because let's face it. They really weren't around when my Mom needed them. Why would they be here for me?

So I was digging in the yard. Trying to keep up with my Mom's flowers. And deciding what  the dogs and I would eat for dinner. Today was so difficult emotionally. I just sat down, in my Mom's favorite part of the yard. And cried. Just let all the emotions sweep over me.

Then my phone rang. Can we say surprised? It was after 5:30PM. On a Friday evening. And I saw the oh too familiar phone number, of the Cancer Center. Who could it be? Is there an emergency? Why would they be calling?

I answered with a very confused, "Hello?" Tears still silently sliding down my face. To hear my Mom's doctor. His calm and steady voice. The voice I'd come to find so much comfort in. Like a sign of safety. He went on to give me his condolences. A lot like the staff at the hospital, he was shocked to hear about my Mom's death. I know. I'm still in shock. But to hear the medical staff say it...I know I'm not alone. No one saw this coming...

We talked for a bit. I tried to hold the tears in. To stay calm. To keep a steady pace about our conversation. But I just couldn't. For the first time since my Mom's death, I just let it all out. Poor Dr. N. He wasn't expecting all of that. The tears that had started out silently. Came in a waterfall effect. The ugly crying started. I couldn't breathe.

And he was just trying to tell me how sorry he was. To ask me...if there was anything he could do. Not expecting my reaction. Or that I'd really ask for help. I couldn't form words. Much less sentences. My brain turned to moosh. I just couldn't find the words. Finally I asked him, if he could help me find some counseling or therapy. I know...I NEED it.

He promised me, he'd talk to the therapist on staff. Told me, he was there if I needed anything. But honestly, I feel stupid. Like why did I finally lose it? And on him. Like crying so hard, I couldn't breathe. I was literally laying on the floor. Trying to catch my breath, telling him I was OK, and asking for help. All at the same time.

Maybe it's because he walked this journey with us. I mean, when someone sees the same things you are seeing. It bonds you. Even if you don't realize it at the time. Maybe it's because he's always been so truthful with us. That I felt this comfortable. I haven't even fallen apart like this...with family. Not even when I've been alone, have I allowed myself to feel the raw emotions.

I needed this call more than I knew. More than he probably knew. I can now see, how important these conversations are. Post caregiving, I have a completely different outlook on patient care. If I return to the medical field, I'll carry this with me. I'll remember how this call, changed things for me. And how I want to be that for someone else. 

Maybe it was his kindness. The simple fact, that he took 10 minutes out of his busy schedule, to ask how I was doing. Something that no one else has done. What does that say about my circle? How little, people really care about MY well being.

I can feel the bottom starting to shake. I know that I need therapy. A lot sooner than I expected. It's all crashing down around me. I'm starting to grieve my Dad. Who past away over 7 years ago. It's like for the first time in my entire life, I get to put my needs ahead of everyone else. And that's so scary. 

10 minutes. A simple call, from a man that was a complete stranger...2 years ago. But I feel like he understands my needs, better than anyone else in my life currently. We got off the call. And I just laid on the cold tile...crying. For almost 2 hours. It was like he opened the flood gates. And everything just came tumbling out.

From the bottom of my heart, I hope that's not how this chapter ends. I'm sure I made zero sense. Sounded like a buffoon. He was probably thinking, I should be committed. For my safety and the safety of those around me. Because my brain seemed to be short circuiting. I couldn't get the words out right. Nothing seemed to be working right. 

I have so much respect for Dr. N. For everything he did for my Mom. For his care over the last 22 months. The respect he showed my Mom. How he always referred to me by name. Knew who I was. Because in almost every other practice...the staff didn't remember my name. They didn't include my Mom in conversations about her health or care. 

This was the first person, besides nephrology, that saw us as people. Real people. Not just another chart to get through. How crazy, that you can establish a closeness...with people that you don't see often. Yes, in 22 months...we probably made it to an office appointment...during 20 months. There were a few telemedicine appointments in between. But was that enough time, for someone to really get to know you? 

I can't tell you what Dr. N's favorite food is. What he does outside of work. What his family looks like. The same way, he doesn't know much about my personal life. He always asked about my work. But he didn't know what my real career was prior to being a caregiver. How I was also a performer. That I can unload a truck of hay...in stiletto heals and pencil skirt. No, we don't know the details of each other's lives.    

But he recognized that I'm struggling. He anticipated that the grief would come and hit like a HUGE wave. And leave me drowning. He anticipated that better than my family. And he reached out. Something no one else has done.

For a few moments, he created a safe space for me. To grieve. And to cry. To feel the emotions that I've had bottled up, deep inside my soul. For that, I'll always be grateful. I hope that Dr. N, doesn't think I'm crazy. I'm just at my lowest point. Trying to keep my head above water. Long enough to breathe. And keep me going. Until I can find my footing again. I'm forever grateful for his kindness. And if nothing else, I hope he knows that. I am grateful to this man, that took such amazing care of my Mom. 💜

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. 💜

My Momma Angel

Yesterday evening, my Mom gained her wings. She fought so incredibly hard to live. To beat her cancer. To continue living the life she wanted to live. My Mom was a fighter. Until the very end. 

My heart is shattered. I know I'll never be the same. But isn't that the price we pay for love? That one day we feel so completely broken. Because the people we love are no longer with us. But I'll always carry our memories in my heart. And my Mom's love. Nothing will ever change that.

 

And the only comfort I have...is knowing my parents have been reunited. I know my Mom missed my Dad so much over the last 7 years. I know that she is no longer in pain. Like my Dad is no longer in pain. It's the only real comfort I have. Knowing they are together. And resting. I love you Mom and Dad! 😇💙😇💚 

Still the Best View

Can we start with...this has been a wild 24 hours. And not in a good way. I'm emotionally spent. My Mom was so down last night. I keep asking myself, am I in denial? Are things way worse, than what I am seeing?

But first, let's start with the good stuff. We had the most amazing ER nurse! Sometime around 2AM, he came into my Mom's room with a recliner. Sheets, blankets, and pillows. And for the first time ever, I had some decent sleep in the ER. 

To be honest, he was just a dream. Worked with the pharmacy to get meds. Let us sleep. And when the phlebotomist couldn't draw blood, he did it. So kind and gentle. I really appreciate good nurses. Martin was top tier.

This morning we woke up to this beautiful view. I mean, it never gets old. The best part of this hospital, is the view. The spectacular view. We've watched the hot air balloons go up for over an hour now. Some are starting to land. But it's a gorgeous sight! And the best way to start our morning. 

Yesterday was just rough. We hadn't seen a single doctor all day. Around 4:45PM a Hospitalist finally showed up. She seemed a bit annoyed. Is it me, or all Hospitalist like this? And honestly she seemed ready to go home. Like my Mom was an inconvenience for her. Then the tuff talk began...

Telling my Mom she needed to update her Code Status. That this is the end. And there is really no reason for CPR and/or machines. I mean, it basically sent my Mom in a downward spiral. She was so upset! Understandably so. And my Mom wouldn't back down.

Eventually, the lady left. And I struggled to get my Mom's spirits back up. But it's had me wondering. Is it really the end? Is she so much worse than we think? Is there no hope? I would think we would be having this sort of conversation with Oncology. Like if they feel like things are this bad, wouldn't one of them come to talk to us? Why put her through another bone marrow biopsy? 

End of life care and talk, should be a gentle topic. It should be something, you do with lots of grace. Have some care and compassion. This lady, basically walked in the room, pulled up my Mom's chart, and started the entire...you should just die speech. I 100% mean, she hadn't seen my Mom's chart until that minute. And immediately went into this conversation. 

I was basically speechless. I know we are definitely here until Tuesday. My Mom has a bedside BMB scheduled. I'm tempted to call Oncology, just to have a little chat. I NEED to know what's going on. What I should be preparing for. Like what the heck is going on?

By last night, my Mom was spent and went to bed. I just sat here wondering if I'm in denial. Is it worse than I think? I mean I lived through everything with my Dad. Am I missing a piece here? Just left with a lot of questions. That I hope to have answered. Between, my Mom seems to be doing much better. Had a much better night last night. 💜

We're Back

Pretty sure, I saw this coming since Tuesday night. But we're back. My Mom basically slept all day yesterday. I got her up, long enough to take her medications. And to eat a few bites of a breakfast burrito. I've been worried. To say the least.

Earlier she had a coughing fit, and couldn't catch her breath. Then she asked me to bring her to the ER. I called the Oncology nurse. Who promptly told me to get her to the ER. She'd be waiting to hear from me. Or she'd call 911 to meet us somewhere. Off we went.

Today I got to wait inside with my Mom. The ER was much busier. So we waited a bit longer. But still safely in the Oncology Corner. Honestly, I think my Mom's appearance is what allowed me to wait with her today. Again, they started off with X-rays. Around 5:30PM, I left to call my Auntie. To let her know what was happening. Then the new staff wouldn't let me back into the ER.

All was good. I took a walk. Updated family. Snapped a few pictures. And ultimately found a chair to sit on and read my book. But OMG it was HOT out there! I happened to get a chair right outside the employees door. So I was grateful every time it opened and blasted me with cold air. At shift change, that was quite nice.

At 6:30PM, I looked into the Waiting Room and didn't see my Mom. So I called the ER and found out she had gotten a room. An ER doctor came almost immediately and let us know, they'd be admitting my Mom. Because it was obvious she was having trouble breathing. The doctor could also hear crackling in her right lung. 

They started fluids, some meds, and electrolytes. It's looking like a new strain of the flu and the earliest signs of pneumonia. My Mom has had it before. So it was kind of likely to happen again. Even with her vaccine.

And because business is booming...we'll be spending the night in the ER. With Nemo starring at me. And a bed made out of 2 chairs. More than likely oncology won't have a room until tomorrow around lunchtime. But as long as my Mom is getting the care she needs, I don't care. 

I snuck off to grab some food around 9:30PM. Learned my lesson on Tuesday. But I missed the next doctor. The hospitalist. The nurse filled me in. By the way, he's awesome! We've never had such a great nurse before.

I had dinner. My Mom had half a milkshake and a little bit of a fish sandwich. But hey. That's more than she's eaten in 48 hours. So we'll call it a win. I also managed to bring a sweatshirt today. My tablet, a book, a crochet project, chargers, and my vitamins. I'm calling it a win. Because the last few days feel like a blur. Off to catch a little sleep. Hopefully. With Nemo and Dory watching over us. 💜

 

Blood Draw to ER

Today started off normally. My Mom needed to go for a normal oncology blood draw. To see if she'd start chemo tomorrow. It had already been delayed because of her counts. The nurse asked me to take her early in the day. Because her doctor isn't in the office. So they'd like the results earlier in the day. But something wasn't right...

Usually I just grab my small purse. Or even, just my driver's license. And we run to the Main Hospital. All of 5 minutes from our home. 10 if there's traffic. But something didn't seem right. So I grabbed my phone, charger, and a book. 

My Mom had not been feeling well since Sunday night. We 100% thought it was her tooth. But this morning she just wasn't feeling great. And was acting out of sorts. Once in the lab, I knew something was wrong. And I called the oncology office. The nurse asked me to take her into the ER. 

Not the ER in the hospital we were at. But the hospital that has the Cancer Center. So off we went. Across town. And we got there in about 20 minutes. The nurse called me almost as soon as we pulled into the parking lot. To make sure we had gotten there safely. Because she was waiting to call 911 if I needed help. If I haven't said it enough...I'm so grateful for this team!

And because of protocol...I stayed in the car after I helped my Mom check in. A little tip here...call the office first. They call ahead to the ER and you jump the line a bit. I think I might have sat in the car about 90 minutes before they had settled my Mom in an ER room. Which was amazing. I heard other people saying that they had been waiting for 4+ hours. I spent my time watching a show.

During that time, they did every test known to man. My Mom had scans. Went for multiple X-rays. Got fluids. And nothing. Not really anything out of place. My Mom is doing better. Because earlier she couldn't walk. And was super confused. But I'm just speechless. How is nothing wrong?

My Mom's oncologist happens to be working at the hospital this week. So the ER doctor called him to consult. And because they really can't find anything wrong, they're sending her home. Which I agree with. But honestly...it's so weird that they can't find anything wrong. Don't you think?

The ER doctor prescribed an antibiotic. In case it's her tooth. They gave her one dose here. And sent the prescription to the pharmacy about 90 minutes ago. My Mom has a dentist appointment on Friday. We'll still have to consult with oncology if they need to do anything major. 

So we'll be heading home in a bit. And I hope my Mom starts to feel better. She hasn't been eating. And has just not been herself since Sunday morning. That's what alarms me. But at least they've run all the tests. And it's nothing major. 

On a side note, I haven't eaten all day. Didn't take my vitamins. Almost froze to death. Because I was not prepared to be here. I usually have a bag in the car. With basics. Chargers, snacks, a book, a crochet project, and a sweatshirt. I also used to carry a small overnight bag, with basic essentials. But things had been going pretty well. And I took everything out of the car. I need to put those bags back in tomorrow. You just never know... 💜