The last five days have been intense. It started with some confusing conversations, and snowballed into an emergency room visit, a code called over the hospital P.A. system, phone calls to family, emergency plane tickets, and a weekend that can only be described as chaos.
My mom has been admitted to the hospital five times in the past month. We can second guess, point fingers, get mad, yell, cry, fall apart (all of which probably did happen at one point or another). We have to take each situation as it comes, one day at a time, one breath after another.
There are times when it feels as though we have to tell our story so many times that we become calloused to the people at the center of it all. We become robotic, adrenaline and automatic responses take over. Emotion can rule beyond all reason, and defy logic.
Six months ago, we'd just celebrated Christmas, and were only barely through ringing in a new year. Six months ago, our parents lives we're starting to turn upside down. Six months ago, we had energy, full night's sleeping, appetites, and far fewer cares in the world. Six months ago, we were all living in the same state, literally a matter of single digit minutes apart. Six months ago, the promises of a new year and a united family, good health and prosperity were about to be shattered.
The cliche roller coaster really fits amazingly and ominously well for our lives. The anticipation and excitement build while a tinge of fear resides at the pit of our stomachs. We load into the cars, hopeful and anxious. The ride starts and climbs to a step peak at a slow pace. Everyone takes a communal sigh of relief and then holds their breath. In the next moment the floor seemingly comes out from under your feet as you plummet to a possible impending doom. Then just as you think you'll crack because you can't take anymore of the gravitational forces heaving you ever downward, the ride twists, turns, and rockets all the riders in a new, unknown direction.
I don't like roller coasters and I sure as hell want off this ride. Life doesn't give that option, unfortunately. So, at least I'm lucky to have other riders on this coaster called reality.
Half of a year has come and gone. From sitting in my brother's living room, my dad somber and serious, to him slowly getting out the words. I've never been one to control my facial expressions well, and I wish I could tell you what they did in that moment. We went into planning mode. In that instant, life had issued an immediate and dominant alteration to our course. But, she wasn't anywhere near done. Three weeks later, the cold knock of sober reality landed an upper cut to the rib cage with follow through to the neck and head. A phone call which I barely understood in the moment where, through tear filled words, my mom spilled out the words. Ok, universe, that's enough now. What's that you say? Challenge accepted? Eff.
My sister's landlord sells the house she's renting… time to move. She moves in with brother. Oh, universe, you got more? Of course. My brother's landlord sells the house they're renting. Everyone has to move. Life, you haven't thrown enough into the mix? Oh, well that would just be too simple. California calling? I'm gonna put that on hold, hit the ignore, block, rinse and repeat. Ok, don't worry, I got this. I can be three places at once, right? False. There rambling is getting bad, T, get it together.
Some movement. Progress. Positive news. Maybe this Willie is starting to collapse? Spoke too soon. That was just the first wave. Here comes the next. Ok, everyone grab a hose and form a line. We get the fire beat down to a smoulder with random ongoing flare-ups. Sort of.
Then, we get to July 6th, 2018. We must have gotten overly cocky or something. The universe was unhappy with us. Kharmic retribution for… well, something that's going to happen in the future if my only guess because I cannot possibly imagine what dastardly deeds we must have committed to warrant the ongoing saga we now face.
The emergency room doctor must have gotten a case of diarrhea diagnosis mouth or something.
I know this post has been broken and seemingly devoid of sensical speech. But, this is just a small glimpse into what has become our “norm”.
To elaborate, and explain to anyone reading this: July 6th started out as a fairly quiet and passive day. A Friday, normal work day that would quickly and heinously go south. As has become the usual, I was getting ready for work and called to check on my mom. She sounded a little groggy, but generally “ok” all things considered. No additional fires to put out at 8:00 AM.
My sister texted me about an hour later and said that she'd made multiple attempts to get in touch with Mom. When she finally answered, she was very agitated and upset, apparently, by the ringtone on her phone. My sister was going to give the caregiver and physical therapist a heads up… might be a good day to wear football pads to work. We lightly quipped about this, but were worried and not sure why Mom had gotten so worked up in the short time since I'd spoken to her.
Next was another phone call from me to my mom. This is when it sank in that something was definitely going haywire on the day. She didn't answer so I had to activate the Amazon echo in her house to essentially turn on a speaker that lets me talk to her when phone contact isn't happening. We talked a bit and she told me she was having a hard mental day. She was also anxious and upset because she couldn't find one of her dentures. I must stress that although this is normally where I'd crack a wiseass joke, but it was definitely not a laughing matter. I could hear the distress in her voice and everything was escalating. She also tells me about an appointment with her doctor in the afternoon which I know should've been cancelled as we got it moved up to several days before. I reassured her, calmed her a little, and told her I'd start working on appointments.
A few minutes later my phone rang. Aunt Debbie called because she'd had a bit of an off kilter conversation with Mom. She was confused and it was very difficult to understand Mom. I gathered more info and then told auntie I'd call her back. I confirmed with the doctor that the appointment was cancelled. Also tried to contact one of the specialists to see about a same day appointment. Unfortunately that doctor is on vacation until the end of this month. Time to call Mom back.
I updated her about appointments and for whatever reason a trigger was switched. She still hadn't been able to locate her denture and this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I do what I can to calm her, but call auntie back to fill her in. Auntie decides to go over and help Mom and see if she can't calm her some too. We have some success, at least. Debbie finds mom's denture. She helps calm her some and suggests a couple hours nap. Mom has since reinstated the doctor's appointment and wants to see her primary care doctor. But first, a couple hours of sleep.
When auntie returns to get Mom, she gets her all the way out and into her car. Mom is winded and is complaining of shortness of breath. Cue the aid car. Auntie calls to tell me they will be taking her to Providence hospital. I tell her I'll meet then there. I get in the phone to Jill and let her know. I also call California, I mean, my brother to let him know. I arrive at the hospital a solid fifteen minutes before Aunt Debbie gets there. The aid car is another fifteen to twenty after that.
The next hour is a bit of a noxious blur in memory. I recall the hospital p.a. system announcing a code sepsis across the loud speakers. No one has told the patient or anyone else in the room if this, thus far. The next time the nurse is in, we ask and she tells us it's a new thing. That's nice. (Not really). Then in quick succession we're told that something is very wrong. It's believed likely that the cancer has spread to Mom's brain and because of her other medical conditions and current medical state, there isn't anything they can do. They then throw in that she has pneumonia. As the very atmosphere and oxygen is completely sucked from my lungs and the room, we start contacting family. Get here. Now.
Emergency plane tickets from California and Michigan for my brother and Grandpa and Llani. And then the flood of emotion and tears in which words literally will not come out of my mouth. I open it to speak and say things, but there is only silence. It is the loudest, most deafeningly brutal silence I've ever known.
Fast forward to Sunday. Two days later. Mom isn't in good shape. We haven't been in contact with a doctor other than the ER doc. Steve was here and we were battening down the hatches, attempting to navigate this storm. We finally corner the treating doctor, literally, and back him into a corner. He's not the ER doctor. Mom has gone through a CT, an MRI, an ultrasound, xrays, and had multiple rounds of lab work / blood tests done. So… what is the news? She isn't and wasn't septic. She didn't and doesn't have pneumonia. The cancer has not spread to her brain. She has some kind of infection, decreased kidney function, decreased liver function, and her body is not expelling the waste at a normal level like it should. Her stomach and legs are quite swollen and painful.
Again, literally not letting the doctor leave the room until we have every answer we need and a plan of action and direction… we ask, “What are you DOING about this!?”
Now we're here, three days later, it's Wednesday. Mom has been in the hospital since Friday for this particular stay. This makes the fifth admit in the last four week span. The contrast given for the CT has essentially hardened and crystalized instead of being expelled normally. This has backed up everything and caused the swelling and severe abdomen pain. They are getting slow but sure movements, getting some of the body's waste out. Kidney function has definitely improved but still has more to go. This is an unfortunate waiting game. Mom was very dehydrated and isn't getting all the nutrients and nutrition she needs because there simply is no room in the abdomen/stomach for food or liquids until the backlog is cleared. It's a scary time. We have having to leave with her still in the hospital for even one minute, but we cannot possibly be there 100% of the time.
My heart has mostly returned to a normal rhythm, but I'd swear that I've aged ten years in these past six months. The important piece is that my brother and Grandpa and Llani were/are here when Mom and we needed them. Her story isn't over. There are many more pages to be written. It's a miserable and uncomfortable situation for Mom, but we shall get through this too. Mom - keep up the fight. We know your energy is low and your spirit is broken. You must understand and hopefully recognize that we're here for you through the good and the bad. You'll have bad days, you'll have great days.. regardless, we'll be there.
There's more to come… but for this post… the only thing more to come is sleep. These words have been garbled, jumbled, confused and clarified. They're here now for you to read. These words are my own.
Until next time…
~T