The day of defeat

When the doctor told us that the cancer was too invasive, I remember just feeling overwhelmingly defeated. We had been on such a journey of ups and downs and I thought we were back on the upside. This news was totally devastating.

Mom was not completely comprehending everything. What we said to her is that she did not have to fight anymore. While in Peoria, she would mention how she was ready to die. We would explain to her that it was just an infection. We encouraged her to keep fighting because once the infection was cleared she would feel much better. Dad would ask her to hang on so we could get her home to enjoy her garden. She complied, but maybe she already knew. Now Dad and I knew too. Plus I would have to let everyone else know too.

After the Doctor shared the news we were then asked to think about signing the Do Not Resuscitate form and think about taking Mom home and bringing in hospice. It was a whirlwind of information, decisions and emotions. Dad and I decided to include others in these decisions. We called Rita to come and we knew Grandma was on her way. Rita and Grandma had really been a big part of the journey and had been there for all the pivotal moments and decisions in the past and Dad and I wanted to ensure they agreed with these final choices. While we waited for family, Dad being distraught went outside. I stayed with Mom but unable to hold back my emotions. I started to cry. Mom said quit crying and you need to get back to work. Typical Mom. Forget the pity party and get back to work. So I explained to her again that unfortunately she was not doing well and so I was just going to stay with her. I then said I had to go to the bathroom and went to the chapel to continue my cry and pull myself together.

I was desperate to tell especially Rita and Grandma. They had been there through it all. Not only were they supportive and encouraging to Mom, they had been my support. I needed their support more than ever. My whole life when things were difficult and I had big decisions to make I had always turned to my Mom. Although I had my Dad, I really wanted and needed my Mom to do what she does best…give me a hug and tell me everything will be ok. Since she could not do that I really appreciated to have other amazing, loving women in my life who could give me that motherly hug I yearned.

Rita had made it to the hospital. I was going to wait until Grandma got there so I could tell both of them at the same time. Yet I couldn’t keep it inside so I told Rita. Then I saw Grandma walking to the hospital front door. I decided I would meet her in the lobby to tell her, so she could compose herself before seeing Mom. I met Grandma and asked if we could sit in the lobby. We sat down and one of Grandma’s previous neighbors came over to talk about her garden and gossip about another neighbor. As I listened to this lady go on, inside I was screaming. I was thinking, really this is your issue? My Mom is dying and I have to tell her Mom that she will need to say good-bye to her daughter. Yet then I heard Mom in my head, saying focus on the woman and take time for others. I did the best I could.

The lady then left and I had to tell Grandma. That look, that demeanor, that face of defeat was familiar as it was exactly all I had gone through just a few hours earlier. Grandma kept saying, oh no and the tears began to form. I held her hands and then we hugged. That hug that we both needed to help each other during such a difficult moment. It was as if time stopped and we were the only ones in the room. Then as we started to compose ourselves I looked up and realized that life did not stop. Something I have had to learn that although I wish the world would stop or that everyone would comfort me since I was losing my Mom, I realized the world did not stop and other people had their own lives and their own problems.

I took Grandma to the room and she was such a trooper as she said hi to her daughter and asked how she was doing. Dad and I then asked Grandma and Rita if they agreed with our decision to end all treatment and sign the Do Not Resuscitate. They did agree.

In those few short hours my focus still on caregiving for Mom, but also now was about taking care of Dad and business. I had to call my job to share that I would not be back to work for a while. I called my husband to tell him what was going on and to start planning to come home for a funeral. I had to call each of the family members as this was not something to text. I also had to call Mom’s boss to let him know that she would not be coming back to work. Each call was difficult. As I spoke the words it was hard to say and difficult to admit that the end was near.

Some of her friends had started to come to see Mom. We had told the church and school on Monday that people could start coming over the next few weeks thinking she had plenty of time for visitors. Unfortunately one of her friends had come early that morning and I sent them away as I just couldn’t face the public and speaking the words of her new diagnosis.

Then that dreaded time came where the nurse came to get Dad and I to sign the Do Not Resuscitate form. The nurse explained the details to us and left us as we signed the form. Dad and I knew it was the right thing to do. Signing the form though seemed so final. It was the signature that admitted defeat. It was a signature that although we were not, felt as if we were giving up. We knew we were not. We knew it is what Mom would have wanted. It is what we all agreed upon. It was what we needed to do. Dad signed the form and then he went outside for some more time to himself.

I stayed that night with my Mom. She asked me to lay with her. I really couldn’t since she was in the bed all propped up, but I put my head on her chest and lay as much as I could by her. I sang Amazing Grace. When she fell asleep I laid on the futon. I would have enjoyed sleeping in the bed with her and talking about the journey we had and plans for the future like we used to do. But what we used to do would be no more. Our nights together would be limited as well as our conversations. This night was the first night to many of learning how I would do life without my Mom and without my Best Friend.