Harder to breathe

The months following my moms brain surgeries, were without a doubt the toughest months in my entire life. I think she had brain surgery every month.  It was harder than her passing. I was mad at God, myself and pretty much everyone. I remember a few days after one of her last brain surgeries a woman came into her room and we thought she was just a social worker etc. The woman started talking about signing a DNR(do not recuscitate) or not signing one. The woman started talking about hospice and my mom yelled at her and told her she wasn’t dying. I had to leave the room because deep down I knew that she was. I hated seeing someone I love try to fight so hard and use whatever energy she had left on a battle she wouldn’t win.

If you have ever seen any one suffer from terminal cancer or any terminal illness you know that its the most helpless feeling in the universe. I almost wish that it was a car accident as morbid and awful as that sounds. You are pretty much watching the one that you love get tortured very slowly. When its your own parent, the one who gave you life, I think it touches on that feeling a little more.

Around January of 2010 my mom could no longer speak for herself, she was basically turning into a vegetable. But that was very short lived. My mom would go into a comatose state and then wake up as if nothing was wrong which is pretty common in the end of a cancer battle. Cancer was taking over her body and one mass in her brain was inoperable. My step-dad had power of attorney and decided to get in-home hospice care. When she woke up from her first comatose state, I think she really started accepting her impending death and fully accepted hospice.

My mom was given her own push button to dispense morphine straight into her pic line to keep her comfortable. We would sometimes sleep in the same bed because I still loved cuddling with her. One night she woke up crying and I woke up with her and she was pushing her morphine button over and over, all while feeling frustrated and sobbing in pain. She had asked if I could just take it all away. That’s a lot for a 17 year old right?  It was like a scene out of a movie filled with pure frustration and sorrow all mixed into one.  I started crying and hugging and holding her so tight. We fell asleep holding each other that night and that was the last time we ever shared a bed and snuggled together.

Every other week she would go into a comatose state and then wake up and drink milk, eat something and joke around.  It was an emotional roller coaster. I can count 3 times where we thought she was going to pass away. My mom’s breathing would get extremely labored, her oxygen would go into the 40s, and she would make gargling noises. I would prepare myself every time for her to pass and call hospice and say “this is it”. The next day she would wake up and literally act like she was not just knocking on heavens door the previous night. I knew that she knew she was passing though even though she never said a word, she never had to. There were times when she started talking to her mom who had preceded her in death. I would catch her telling  her mom that she was ready to “come home”. My mom didn’t talk a whole lot about her mom because she died when my mom was 23, which is my age now.

I would like to say before I post my next blog about her death, that this is not intended to make anybody sad. This story is truly meant to be inspirational because I am living proof that you can still live life to the fullest even when you have experienced your worst nightmare. This is just the harsh reality of terminal cancer. If you remember in my first blog, I always knew something was going to happen to my mom. It was always in my mind and I would try to prevent it any way I could. If people asked me before my mom was sick what my worst fear was, the answer was always “losing my mom, my best friend”.