Monday, August 21, 2017

3 weeks & 3 days without her






When mom called me on April 3rd, 2017 I thought maybe she saw something on TV that she wanted to tell me about, or she heard a new song that she wanted me to listen to, or maybe she needed me to look something up on the internet for her ... these were usually the reasons she would call me in the middle of the day at work. 

"Hi, Mommy!" 
"Hi, honey, I am in the hospital...Tim brought me to the emergency room last night because my left arm was hurting and he was afraid I was having a heart attack.  They have found a tumor on my left lung...it is 2 inches in diameter."

Surely she meant 2 centimeters ... she must have heard them wrong.  "Okay, Mom... I'll be there as soon as I can."  At 2am the next morning I left NC and headed out to WV for the first of what would be 10 trips up and down I77 over the next 4 months.  I slept at the hospital with mom the night of April 4th - she was in so much pain ... I just couldn't understand what was happening.  I remember the nurse coming in the middle of the night and I said to her, "What is going on?  Why is she in so much pain?"  I will never forget the look she gave me.  It was the exact look that the actors on Grey's Anatomy give to family members when they know what is wrong with their loved one, but the can't tell them yet because they haven't confirmed it.  She knew it was cancer ... and at that moment I knew it was cancer.  I laid back down on the most uncomfortable fold-out bed in the history of the world and held my breath and fought back tears in silence until the sun finally came up. 

April 5th began the true torture... really people shouldn't have to ever go through what the words, "You have cancer" put you and your loved ones through.  I didn't say a whole lot to friends or family while mom was sick (I didn't feel that she really wanted people to know how bad it was).  She lost her voice, down to a whisper ... she would tell people on the phone that she had laryngitis.  She didn't like pity, she didn't like to be weak ... she has always been the strength of our family and I believe she intended to continue to be that until her last breath.  I am not as strong as her.  I had 4 panic attacks in the first 2 months - the final one scared me so much that I sought medical attention - I never told her.

When we found out that mom was sick, I knew in my head that it would be hard but there was no way to really comprehend how hard it would be until I went through it.  I knew it would be hard when she died, but there was no way to really comprehend how hard until she died in my arms.  Now I have lived 3 weeks and 3 days without her...I knew it would be hard but ...

The earth keeps spinning, the sun comes up every morning, people are rude in traffic... I have to keep eating dinner, brushing my teeth, washing clothes.  My life continues, but I have to learn to function as a drastically wounded and different person. I know that it won't always be this way and that wounds heal but healing right now feels like forgetting and that is terrifying. 

They say that there are stages of grief but that you don't necessarily experience them in any certain sequence and sometimes you go through certain stages multiple times and sometimes more than one stage at once.  I think I am still in shock and denial.  I have recently experienced moments of reality setting in and then I shut it off because crying hurts so badly.  I hope that by sharing my story I will work through what I am feeling and in some way it may help someone else.  I have had a hard time finding stories to connect to and I think that is because people want to forget and it is too difficult to open up to others. There is nothing wrong with that, but I just feel like my story has to help someone - I will make sure that something good comes from this.

As I have the strength, I will share more stories - it is healing for me and I want to make sure that I document everything while it is still fresh in my mind.  Thanks for reading.