My mom was in the hospital at the time, and she went home, and I spent sometime with her, took her to chemo, etc. Just did the things you do when you have a family member dealing with cancer. You help.
Spring break hit, and my daughter had minor surgery. Minor, but still it required caregiving.
Shortly after that, I was down for the count for a few days with a kidney stone. I kept having that feeling like "I'll start again next week. I will." Then I didn't. I did participate in a 5K to benefit my mother's research clinic at MD Anderson, though I walked with my cousin Britta, and we talked about getting off our asses and training so we could do the Princess Half together.
Then my birthday was coming, and I thought, ok, this is the turning point. This is it. I am 37 tomorrow, I'm going to get up and start this again, and I'm going to finish it. That was April 10.
I got a phone call that night around 10 that my mom had fallen, hurt her leg, and was on the way to the ER. I joined her there, and as the clock struck midnight and it turned into April 11, my birthday, my mom started to have trouble breathing.
It got pretty serious from there. Her leg became a secondary concern as her heart and lung distress were the main focus of her care team. After several days in ICU on a ventilator, she was breathing on her own and deemed stable enough to go ahead with surgery to repair her hip. The other option was having her lie in a bed with a broken hip... which isn't a good option. No way to live. I spent many days and nights with her at the hospital, rotating with family members so we could go home and get some actual sleep.
After the surgery, she landed herself back in ICU, was doing ok. We fully expected that she'd go home, and I had made plans to move my office there (on a good day in no traffic, 45 minutes from my home) and work from her home several days a week so I could help her, keep her company, and just be there so she wouldn't be alone. I was ready. I feared that I might not do a good enough job, but I was ready. My hope was that once she was back home, her depression would improve, her appetite would come back, and I could nurse her back into a happy place in life.
On April 30, her team of doctors asked the family to sign a "Do Not Resuscitate" order for her, as her condition had declined and would continue to decline. There was just too much cancer and scar tissue and the whole situation boiled down to this: her body was shutting down. She was placed in the Acute Palliative Care Unit, so that she could be free of any lines, tubes, and monitors that weren't necessary for her comfort. We stayed there with her, prayed with her, watched her decline, and hoped that she would die peacefully.
She did. I was there. She passed away so simply.
There was crying, funeral planning, staring into space, realization that I was left on earth at the age of 37 with no parents. There was a lot of staring into space. A lot of smiling and comforting the people who hadn't been around her for the last 6 months, who had no idea of her rapid decline. They would hug me and tell me they were sorry, but I knew they were hurting too-- she was their friend.
The day before she died I had a well-woman checkup, complete with bloodwork. Today I finally spoke with the nurse about my bloodwork, which (no surprise) revealed that I needed to cut the crap and get some exercise.
So raise your glass to starting over. I feel like I've reached a point in life where I have closed the door on mom's cancer-- something that loomed over us for so long. Something that sucked time away from us. Something that kept us chained to a hospital because we didn't want to leave her.
Losing my father to heart attack/obesity/diabetes taught me that I want to be strong and healthy for my children, to not leave them early, to not have them go through the terror and tragedy of *BLAMMO* losing a parent.
Losing my mother to cancer-- but more importantly, being graced by her presence for 15 years when she was "supposed to" make it maybe 18 months-- has taught me the importance of being healthy and keeping your body in a state where it can fight disease to the best of its ability. In a state where it can handle rough treatments, surgeries, and allow me to come out on top when things happen.
I will start again, and I will not let this be a hinderance to my goals of running that Princess Half Marathon : )
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