My kids and I went to visit my mom a few days ago at her assisted living facility.
As we left, I couldn’t help but think.
I hope that wasn’t the last time they would see her.
I realize that is a strong statement.
And a sad one.
And a negative one.
I just hope it’s not a real one.
The mom I know.
The bubbie they love.
Just wasn’t there.
When we left the facility, we said goodbye to a frail woman.
With tears filling up her 81-year old eyes.
The bottom line is she’s just not in a good place.
Right now.
And I’m not sure if she will be.
Again.
The news that she had been diagnosed with kidney cancer is more than she has been able to handle.
The news that doctors feel her prognosis is good is something she hasn’t been able to hear.
And it is clearly taking its toll.
Each time I talk to her I feel more helpless.
I can’t imagine how she is feeling.
Yesterday I stopped by her facility to drop off a few things.
And to say hello.
Not goodbye.
Although I wouldn’t be seeing her for about a week.
My 13-year old daughter and I are heading out on her 8th grade trip to our nation’s capital.
This is a trip we’ve been looking forward to.
Since she was in 7th grade.
I was hoping to see my mom before I left.
But unfortunately she was not around.
A few days a week she leaves her facility and heads to another senior facility to get some social time.
And medical care -- if she needs it.
As as luck would have it, yesterday she decided to stay at the other facility longer than usual.
And by the time she would be back.
I was gone.
To me that was not a big deal.
I knew I would see her again when I return to town.
In a matter of days.
To her it was catastrophic.
What I didn’t know when I left is what I found out when I got home.
That’s when I got a call from one of the administrators at my mom’s facility.
I could hear the concern in her voice.
Before I could hear her voice.
Apparently my mom had a very candid conversation with her a night earlier.
On April 28.
And in this conversation my mom said she was really hoping to see me before I left on this trip.
She said that she didn’t know if she would still be here when I got back into town.
Now even though I knew what that meant.
I still had to ask... “where is she going?”
At which point, the lady told me my mom said she was concerned she wouldn’t be with us anymore.
I quickly did the math.
And the math quickly added up.
Yesterday was April 29.
The day before April 30.
The day I was born.
On April 30, 1995 I celebrated my 28th birthday.
On April 29, 1995, my grandmother passed away.
Of cancer.
I can still remember my mom telling me that her mom died on April 29th so that she wouldn’t die on April 30.
She didn’t want her death and my birthday to share the same day.
So she chose to die on April 29.
And apparently my mom thought she would do the same thing.
This poor lady.
My poor mom.
Not only is she dealing -- or not dealing -- with the news of kidney cancer.
But she’s also trying to predict her own demise.
The tumor that she is carrying around with her is two inches long.
Unfortunately the pain weighs a thousand pounds.
Every conversation we have I remind her that the doctors are very optimistic.
And that we need to deal with the facts that we know.
And not the facts that we are making up.
Clearly it is not working.
1 comment:
My grandmother was 93 when she died. She lost her hearing and most of her eyesight and spent the last 6 months of her life in bed doing nothing but sleeping and literally begging to die. When she did we were sad to see her go but were relieved the pain and suffering had ended. This might come out wrong but when the day comes your mother moves on as sad as it might be you might be relieved her pain and suffering are over. Maybe not right away but not too far down the line
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