April 1st
Although it was only a couple of days ago that I reminded myself of what today was, I had really forgotten until I heard a songbird outside my window just a minute or so ago. Today may be April Fool's Day, but it is also the day that my mother died seven years ago.
In September of that year, Mama had been given a clean bill of health by her family doctor. Sometime after that, she had begun to inexplicably lose weight. Test after test came back negative - no cancer, tumors, etc. The doctor thought another test might help but it almost killed her due to an error on the technician's fault. We believe what happened then was actually a stroke that went untreated. She began having breathing problems, couldn't sleep, and could barely speak or walk. They said she was just "tired". And she continued to lose weight.
By March, she was very weak but still had not been hospitalised. We took her to the Emergency Room for breathing problems on one occasion and then about a week later, took her in again. At that visit, one of the emergency room doctors told us that she had a horrible case of emphysema, thinking that we knew this. We were all stunned. Her family doctor had never told us she emphysema, nor had he told her. How could someone go from a clean bill of health in September to having full blown emphysema in just over six months? When I asked about her weight and how it might be stressing her heart, he looked at me and said that it was much better for her heart for her to be underweight rather than overweight. Guess he never heard of Karen Carpenter.
About a week later, she went back to the hospital and never went home. My father was exhausted as were we all, so I told him I would stay with her. At some point during the night, I woke up to find her calling my name and struggling to breathe. She went on a ventilator that night and into ICU. My oldest sister was living in Malaysia at the time and we called her to come home asap. At the time, the doctors were pretty confident that Mom would get better. She was conscious but needed help breathing. She was communicating with us with blinks, squeezes, and scribbled notes on a legal pad. My brother and I had long talks about how our parents' lives were going to have to change (no more smoking) and how we could help them.
My sister finally arrived on Saturday and got to see Mom that day and the next. When she and my dad went in to see Mom on Monday, they discovered (not the ICU nurses, mind you) that she was unconscious and nonresponsive. She had suffered a massive stroke in the night and she never recovered.
After talking with the doctors, we made the painful decision to wean her off of the ventilator. If she was going to be able to breathe on her own, we wanted to give her the chance. We knew that either she would live or die and we really were not expecting her to live.
My brother and oldest sister stayed at the hospital. One of my biggest regrets in my life at this point is that I did not stay with them....with my mother. I don't know why I didn't. Perhaps it was because I had been saying goodbye in my heart to my mother for the past few weeks as I saw her getting weaker and weaker. Maybe it was because I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I just made the wrong decision. Maybe I was just not able to watch my Mama die. I just know that I think I did the wrong thing then.
About five in the morning the next day, my sister called me to tell me Mama had died. I remember not sleeping well because I was wondering when it was going to happen. My husband would hold me while I cried off and on during the night. When the call came, for one brief moment, I hoped that I would hear the words, "She's okay! She's going to be alright!" But that's not what I heard at all. I went still as I listened to my sister and then after a minute or two of talking, we ended the call so she could call other people. I just sat there. The stupid birds kept singing like it was the most normal day in the world.
It was a very lonely feeling knowing that my mother was no longer living. The woman who had carried me in her body and watched me grow up to have my own children was no longer on this earth.
Seven years later, I'm crying as I think about it. My mother would have been so proud of how my two daughters are growing up. She would have been thrilled and proud about all of her grandchildren. She always did her best to make holidays and birthdays special times for her family. So much so, that when we were on vacation several months after my mother died, I burst into tears when I picked up my orange juice because the smell made me think of Christmas mornings and how she always made sure that oranges were in our stockings.
I have so many memories of my mother and perhaps I'll write some of them down. But not today. I'm not strong enough today.
In September of that year, Mama had been given a clean bill of health by her family doctor. Sometime after that, she had begun to inexplicably lose weight. Test after test came back negative - no cancer, tumors, etc. The doctor thought another test might help but it almost killed her due to an error on the technician's fault. We believe what happened then was actually a stroke that went untreated. She began having breathing problems, couldn't sleep, and could barely speak or walk. They said she was just "tired". And she continued to lose weight.
By March, she was very weak but still had not been hospitalised. We took her to the Emergency Room for breathing problems on one occasion and then about a week later, took her in again. At that visit, one of the emergency room doctors told us that she had a horrible case of emphysema, thinking that we knew this. We were all stunned. Her family doctor had never told us she emphysema, nor had he told her. How could someone go from a clean bill of health in September to having full blown emphysema in just over six months? When I asked about her weight and how it might be stressing her heart, he looked at me and said that it was much better for her heart for her to be underweight rather than overweight. Guess he never heard of Karen Carpenter.
About a week later, she went back to the hospital and never went home. My father was exhausted as were we all, so I told him I would stay with her. At some point during the night, I woke up to find her calling my name and struggling to breathe. She went on a ventilator that night and into ICU. My oldest sister was living in Malaysia at the time and we called her to come home asap. At the time, the doctors were pretty confident that Mom would get better. She was conscious but needed help breathing. She was communicating with us with blinks, squeezes, and scribbled notes on a legal pad. My brother and I had long talks about how our parents' lives were going to have to change (no more smoking) and how we could help them.
My sister finally arrived on Saturday and got to see Mom that day and the next. When she and my dad went in to see Mom on Monday, they discovered (not the ICU nurses, mind you) that she was unconscious and nonresponsive. She had suffered a massive stroke in the night and she never recovered.
After talking with the doctors, we made the painful decision to wean her off of the ventilator. If she was going to be able to breathe on her own, we wanted to give her the chance. We knew that either she would live or die and we really were not expecting her to live.
My brother and oldest sister stayed at the hospital. One of my biggest regrets in my life at this point is that I did not stay with them....with my mother. I don't know why I didn't. Perhaps it was because I had been saying goodbye in my heart to my mother for the past few weeks as I saw her getting weaker and weaker. Maybe it was because I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I just made the wrong decision. Maybe I was just not able to watch my Mama die. I just know that I think I did the wrong thing then.
About five in the morning the next day, my sister called me to tell me Mama had died. I remember not sleeping well because I was wondering when it was going to happen. My husband would hold me while I cried off and on during the night. When the call came, for one brief moment, I hoped that I would hear the words, "She's okay! She's going to be alright!" But that's not what I heard at all. I went still as I listened to my sister and then after a minute or two of talking, we ended the call so she could call other people. I just sat there. The stupid birds kept singing like it was the most normal day in the world.
It was a very lonely feeling knowing that my mother was no longer living. The woman who had carried me in her body and watched me grow up to have my own children was no longer on this earth.
Seven years later, I'm crying as I think about it. My mother would have been so proud of how my two daughters are growing up. She would have been thrilled and proud about all of her grandchildren. She always did her best to make holidays and birthdays special times for her family. So much so, that when we were on vacation several months after my mother died, I burst into tears when I picked up my orange juice because the smell made me think of Christmas mornings and how she always made sure that oranges were in our stockings.
I have so many memories of my mother and perhaps I'll write some of them down. But not today. I'm not strong enough today.
posted by PeachCobbler | 9:33 AM
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