I have yet to meet another human being that touched this world in the same way my mom did. She was definitely a people person, and her heart could warm Alaska. She had no agenda. She simply cared about her patients, while working as a nurse, and her husband, kids, and family. That’s all she needed. She never bought jewelry or elaborate clothes or knick knacks for the house. Which gave her four kids room to buy her ceramic statues of her beloved cardinals, or a pretty glass flower for birthdays and holidays.
She never said no to anyone that asked for her help. My uncle used to drive from Maplewood to Morristown once a week, for her to give him his allergy shots. He was scared to death of needles, and trusted only his sister-in-law because of her effortless maneuvering of that needle. It never hurt when she injected his arm.
She loved her dominating, controlling, difficult husband, and stood by his side for thirty four years. Her kids were her biggest concern, and she was quite demonstrative in her shows of affection. We always knew where we stood with her-in her heart and imbedded in her soul.
She developed breast cancer while I was in my twenties, and had a radical, double mastectomy. She went through radiation and chemotherapy, and was free of the cancer when her treatment was done. We were all relieved, and life returned to "normal." At twenty eight, I was the first to get married. When I had my daughter at twenty nine, she was touched in a way I don’t really know how to explain. Maybe a mother, once removed? She and my dad would visit on weekends, and all was well with the world.
Next, my son was born, on the night before we were to move. The truck was all loaded, and as I was about to go to sleep to get ready for our big day, moving into a brand new home, my son decided he wanted out. I spent the next day alone in the hospital with him, while friends and family moved us into our new home. I came home to a kitchen, cabinets filled by sincere family members who wanted to help me out. Too bad, nothing was where I would have put it, so all needed to be rearranged the next day. I never could understand why someone put the coffee cups across the room from the coffee pot!
My mom had a recurrence of her cancer, and was fighting it the best she could. They continued visiting on weekends, and when my daughter was four, and my son was two, I unknowingly was in for the worst moment of my life.
My little girl came out of the bathroom dancing and twirling around, and my mom held back tears. What the hell was that about, I asked myself? I didn’t let on that I had seen her, but a foreboding came over me that filled my mind, heart, and soul. When they left, I put the two kids down for a nap, and went up to the privacy and safety of my room, to call my mom’s doctor. I knew he couldn’t tell me anything over the phone, but I had to try for something. My parents wouldn’t say anything, they were the type who lovingly didn’t want their kids to worry. I’ll never, ever forget dialing his number, asking his nurse to speak to him, and in two seconds, I was talking to my mom’s doctor. That in itself, was strange. How many times do you call and ask to speak to a strange doctor, and have him pick up?! I told him who I was, and that I was just wondering what was going on with my mom’s treatment.
The moment that changed my life followed, "Your mom is very sick. Her cancer has spread to her hip and organs and brain, and I am going to try and get her through the holidays." The holidays? It was September. I asked him what he meant? He matter of factly, but with compassion, answered, "Thanksgiving and Christmas. I don’t know how or when I hung up the phone, never knowing a doctor could go against confidentiality, but my heart was racing out of my chest, and my mind was skipping a few beats. I was alone, I had a father and three siblings younger than I, and my mom’s two sisters in Texas, who had to be told, and I was reeling. I sat there in my bed, with my two little kids sleeping soundly, and tried to absorb the fact that this stranger had just told me my mom was going to die in a short period of time. I chose to unleash some of the pressure I felt, and called everyone and explained what had just happened. Nothing but disbelief answered me on that phone, as one after the other, were receiving their worst moments of their lives.
My dad told me much later that because of the deterioration of her hip, she used a wheelchair to get around, even having my dad push her to the G.I. Suite she still ran in the hospital. She didn’t want any of her kids to know, so she would suffer the pain of walking into our homes, without her wheelchair, which resided in the trunk of my dad’s car. None of us, but my dad, ever knew. Soon after, she was made to quit by people who cared about her in the hospital, and told her to live out the rest of her life happily, and not on eight hours a day of working. In October and November, she was in a hospital bed in an extra room in their apartment. Of course, we all went to visit often, but the progression of her disease was evident with each visit. Not one person who knew her could figure out what to do with their sorrow. We all had to handle it in our own ways.
My mom had cried when she saw my daughter twirling around, a big happy smile on her face, knowing she wouldn’t be seeing her grow up. Heartwrenching, to say the very least.
My mom made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas. We were all there in her apartment, knowing we’d never share a holiday with the woman who created us, and made us strong. In the beginning of January, she was hospitalized. Her cancer had grown so quickly, she was in a lot of pain, so they had her on morphine. She couldn’t have gotten better care, as all nurse and doctors loved her and respected her, and were going to give her their best. When I could get a babysitter, I would drive the hour to Morristown, and visit with her. Before I walked in, the nurse would always compassionately warn me that my mom had enough morphine in her to kill a horse, so she wouldn’t be coherent. I would walk into her room, she would open her eyes, and ask me about my kids.
She would talk to me the whole time I was there, and I would then leave her to her slumber. This ritual happened everytime someone close to her visited. The Doctor’s were baffled, and never could figure out how this was happening.
After three months, her condition had worsened as much as it could, i remeber her teeth were green, and it was so painful to witness. And yet, my loving mother held on. I had to take my brothers and sister aside and explain that each of us was going to go in, one at a time, and let my mother know we were going to be okay, and tell her to go towards the light, and stop fighting it.
They thought I was nuts, but they obeyed their older sister, soon to be the matriarch of the family. We each had our chance, the next worst thing in my life.
I told my mother how much I loved her, and that she needed to go towards the light, and not fight it, we would all be okay. She passed away the next day. February 22, 1989.
Then I truly knew the worst moment of my life.
Eighteen years means nothing. I want my mom to this day. I talk to her, i ask for her help, and a day has not gone by that I haven't had a conversation with her. |
