This posting took me a while because I have been fighting it.  I haven’t wanted to write it but it won’t leave me alone.  I guess it just has to be written.

Life isn’t fair.  Cancer isn’t fair.  Murder isn’t fair.  The last 34 years of my Mom’s life wasn’t fair.  I know that sounds like a pity party but sometimes you just have to go there.  You have to just feel the unfairness and the injustice like an emotion.   The acknowledgment and acceptance of this reality can help to move you forward as long as you don’t stay in the pity party.  Acknowledge and move on – that’s the hard part.

I don’t know much about the first 34 years of my Mom’s life.  I know different jobs that she did and a few places that she lived and that she had early aspirations to be a teacher.  I also know that she really wanted to get married and have children.  Her dreams came true when she met my Dad at about 30.  And then it was taken away by murder.  I honestly don’t have the words for the injustice that she suffered that day and in the days that followed.  I’m overwhelmed by it all.  I know that she really didn’t understand why.  I didn’t hear her come out and say, “Why me?” Or, “This isn’t fair.”  Or pout.  But I know she thought it.  It’s natural.  How do you not feel cheated when you feel like you have entered the perfect life only to have it ripped from you after only 3 years?  When you are suddenly raising 2 children in a situation you never could have imagined?

Mom made a life for us and her but I don’t think that anyone will deny that she lived in the shadow of her dream.  She fought it every day.  She forced herself out of bed and made breakfast plans at a restaurant nearly every day to be sure that she kept to a routine.  She did her best to keep herself distracted by reading the paper, watching tv, going out for coffee with friends.  She just couldn’t bear to think about what might have been or what was.  This was pretty well hidden to most behind humor or small talk.  She also relied on her faith to keep her going.  I have found many writings of hers trying to make sense of her life.

According to what we are now discovering it’s quite amazing that it took over 30 years for the cancer to come.  Research is beginning to connect trauma with cancer, as well as many auto-immune diseases.  It is believed that extreme physical or mental trauma causes such a shock to the body that it lowers the immune system enough for cancer or other diseases to take hold.  For my Mom she also had an extreme chemical and hormonal imbalance at the time of my Dad’s death which made everything so much worse.  When you have already survived a trauma the prospect of cancer just adds insult to injury.

So as I watched my Mother suffer for 18 months the unfairness of the situation was ever present for me.  It was what kept me going back when I thought I had given everything I had to give.  It was what gave me the strength to confront doctors and nurses.   I couldn’t change the fact that she was suffering and dying but I could do my best to lessen her suffering and help her die with dignity.  I know that God always has a plan and a path for each of us.  And I know that it isn’t always for us to understand that plan; but speaking as a daughter who watched her Mom suffer most of my life I just wish that for her sake she could have gone quickly with a heart attack or a car accident.  I hate that she had to suffer for us to have that time with her.  It feels incredibly selfish.  Watching my Mother slowly starve to death over the course of 6 weeks knowing that there was nothing I could do but sit, watch and listen will never leave me.  Intellectually I know that it is an experience that I need for whatever is ahead of me in life.  No experience goes to waste.  But this one I think I would have preferred to go without.

It’s just not fair.  I guess this is where I’m supposed to move on…

Mom, along with the rest of us had been warned about all of the possible side effects of chemo and we were all nervous about Mom’s first round.  She would be receiving chemo one day a month by IV and it would last about 5 hours.  So at the end of September of 2009 we all held our breath.  Auntie A came up to sit with her during chemo and stay with her for the first few days to be sure everything was all right.  Mom didn’t really let on her fears.  She just thought of it as a no-choice issue.  This is what she had to do to get better and she was determined that she would come through it just fine.  My sister and I went to see her and called her over the next few days to the point where I think it really annoyed her.  She didn’t see what the fuss was all about.

Mom had problems with her veins for as long as I can remember.  For years she had to have blood taken out of the top of her hands instead of the inside of her elbow, which is quite painful.  The nurses also had problems getting her IV in so they decided to put in a “pic line”, which is a semi-permanent tiny tube that goes in the upper arm and is threaded through to a major artery near the heart.  It could be used to deliver chemo and take blood.  Unfortunately the pic lines didn’t work very well either and they had to be redone a few times.  But Mom and the rest of us were thankful that there was an alternative to the painful needles every few days.

Mom came through it pretty well for chemo.  She had a few side effects but they weren’t as severe as expected.  She had some nausea but more sensitivity to food.  There were some foods that no longer agreed with her.  She hadn’t had a great appetite for months but this sure didn’t help.  Eggs was one that was a bit of a surprise for her and a disappointment.  She was tired but the worst was the joint pain.  She didn’t really feel anything different the first day but the second day the joint pain started and got so bad she had a hard time moving for a few days and then it slowly went away.  So she had about a week of being uncomfortable and in pain.  It didn’t really slow her down much.  She felt it was important to keep her life as normal as possible to keep her spirits up so she and my Aunt would schedule breakfast and other outings around home care visits and nurses.

Mom’s weight continued to drop as the chemo cycles continued and with each chemo cycle we held our breath knowing that the less severe aspects of the drugs could give way to much worse.  She saw her hair loss as no big deal.  Due to the trauma of my Dad’s death she had started to lose her hair years before.  This baldness was easier to explain than the complexity of trauma and hormone deficiency.  So for her it was a bit of a relief.  Thankfully the side effects were minimal through the first 4 chemo treatments into December.

Back to my Mom Pieces:

The months of October through December 2009 were a roller coaster.  Mom was at home with home care several times a day, me stopping in 2 to 3 days a week, my sister coming by most days and my Auntie A.  coming and staying for a few days at a time.  Mom struggled with the loss of some independence.  She was still driving but just to the post office or church etc.  Her breakfast out with friends was more important than ever.  Mom had to keep her colostomy in mind at all times and she never got used to caring for it.  She was nervous leaving the house in case something went wrong and being in close proximity to the hospital was a necessity.  Mom had to take more than a few trips to the ER for help.  They got used to seeing her unfortunately.

One Saturday evening Pasith, the kids and I went to town to have supper at her house.  After supper Pasith took the kids out to his brother’s house.  My Mom went into the bathroom and after a few minutes I realized that she hadn’t come out.  I went to ask her if she was okay and saw that she was in the bathroom with the light off.  And she wouldn’t answer me.  Finally I told her that if she didn’t answer me I was coming in to the bathroom.  I didn’t know if she had fainted.  I hadn’t heard her fall but I wasn’t taking any chances.  She cracked the door open but still wouldn’t talk – she just didn’t want me to come in.  I was terrified and didn’t know what to think or do.  I asked her if she needed to go to the hospital.  I begged her to talk to me.  I called Pasith and asked him to come back.  I needed his help to get her in and out of the car.  I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with.  So he came back and by that time I had gotten her out of the bathroom and she agreed to go to the hospital – across the street.  She wasn’t able to walk that far so Pasith and I helped her into the car and drove her over.  I went in with her and Pasith went back to his brothers.  I never found out what happened in the bathroom.  I don’t remember what happened at the hospital and I don’t know how long we were there.  The only thing that has stuck with me from that night was the horrible helplessness not knowing what to do when she wouldn’t answer me.  I have the vision of standing in the kitchen doorway staring down the hall at the bathroom door and not seeing any light underneath and wondering if I needed to call an ambulance, my husband, my sister or all three.  I had been cautious in all of my previous visits over the last few months but after that I just knew that I had to be prepared for anything.

She and I were so thankful that we had been there.  I’m not sure what would have happened if we hadn’t been.  God was definitely watching over Mom while she was sick.  There always seemed to be people with her when she needed help.

2 days less than 10 months. That is the time between my Mom’s death and her oldest sister’s death. Aunt R. passed away this past Saturday morning. She had been ill but the timing was still unexpected for the family. I’m thankful that Aunt R. did not suffer long. I’m truly happy for her. There must be one incredible family gathering going on in heaven. She met her stillborn son for the first time yesterday. How amazing must that have been?

But it is still oh so hard to be left behind. Her children are stunned and grieving. My Aunt A, who cared for my Mom was also there for her older sister. Again she gave everything she had to give. And again she is with her sister’s children while their grief is so fresh. She really is my hero.

There have been awful reminders all the way through the last few months. Hospitals, decisions, family visits, debates and discussions about the future. It was all so fresh for all of us. The update phone calls though the family. Only this time it was different, the family communication chain was broken. In our extended family news traveled by generation; Grandma would talk to her children and then they would pass on whatever news to their children. When Grandma was gone the news would travel between the siblings and then pass on to the children. My sister and I no longer had that connection. It felt strange to not have my Mom call me to tell me that her sister was in the hospital; or home from the hospital or that she had passed away. Auntie A. and my cousins were wonderful about updating us as needed but it was still a reminder that Mom was missing from the chain.

I didn’t know Aunt R. very well. I respected her and had spent time at her farm as a child but never got to know her as an adult. She was very quiet and to be honest I just wasn’t sure of what to talk about with her. We were just very different people. And I had never realized how similar she was to my Mom until I went to visit her about a month ago. I was hesitant to go because I just wasn’t sure what to expect or if I could handle it. Aunt R. was in the hospital but was out for a day pass to spend with family. Aunt A and my Uncle and his wife were there as well as me and a few of my cousins. We had a good visit and a really good supper together. I’m glad I went but it was not easy. I wanted to escape at some points. Just go for a walk and get some fresh air.

Her voice, her smile and the way she moved. Getting her to walk around with her walker before we had supper nearly sent me over the edge. The task of getting her down the outside steps and into the car to go back to the hospital for the night just made me cry.  All of these things and more were painful memories of my Mom. And then when she was transferred to St B last weekend I knew that I needed to go see her. I knew I would but it was not going to be easy and it would take some deep breaths. I had gone back after my Father-in-law died on the 8th floor of St B a year before my Mom was admitted for the first time.  I told myself that I could do it again.  I was going to go this weekend and actually reminded myself on Saturday morning that I needed to be sure to go that evening.

And then I got the call at 2pm. I no longer have to get myself back into the hospital but now there is another family funeral. It all just feels too soon. I know this is far bigger than just me. There are her children, her siblings, her other family and friends that also have to go through this time. It’s not easy for any of us. We all have our own story.

Today my story is that I’m reliving my Mom’s sickness, death and funeral while the family grieves again far too soon.

The last week that Mom spent in the hospital in Winnipeg was much more relaxing than the previous 4 weeks.  She had no more tubes in her.  She was going outside for short walks and sitting in the atrium for short periods.  She was so happy to get out and feel the sun or sit at a table in a chair; simple pleasures.  Mom had some learning to do before she could leave for home.  She had nurses teaching her how to take care of her colostomy.  This was the toughest part for Mom.  She really resisted and continued to have issues until it was reversed 5 months later.  And there was chemo coming.  The doctors had finally decided on what type of cancer she had, which was Breast as well as Peritoneal, which behaves and is treated like Ovarian.  The breast tumor was very slow growing so they decided to leave that one alone.  They focused on the chemo for the abdominal cancer.  Mom was nervous about all of the side effects of the chemo but was really positive in terms of what it could do for her.

When she left the Winnipeg hospital she stayed in the Steinbach hospital for a few days to be sure that she was all right and could handle going home.  The doctors and all of us including Mom agreed that to go straight from Winnipeg to home would be too much of a shock.  They also had to set up home care.  Mom wasn’t so sure about home care at first.  She knew she didn’t have a choice and was thankful that they were available to her for her medical needs.  But she was determined that she would handle as much of her meal making and general care on her own.  She liked to remind us that she wasn’t that bad off and it was good for her to do as much as she could to keep going every day.  And we admired her for it, even if it was frustrating some days.

Mom went home and was so happy to be there.  Auntie A was still coming, staying for up to a week or two and then going home to Minnesota.  And I was going to Steinbach 3 evenings and 1 day a week for the first few months.  It was a strain on our household but I was home more than I had been when she was in the hospital so it was still an improvement.

My Mom asked me to be at her place when the first home care worker came because my sister was working and she needed some extra support.  I have a distinct memory of how nervous Mom was.  The nurse had been there to do vitals, check bandages and help out with the colostomy.  But this was the first time she would have “help” doing things that she had done on her own for 60+ years.  Giving up even a small piece of your independence is so hard.  And at first it was a small piece.  They helped her get changed for bed for a while because of her surgery and the tap they had put into her back to get rid of the fluid around her lungs. It was hard for her to lift her arms and bend down.  They would also get her meals if she needed or get things for her that she could no longer reach or bend down for.  Once a week someone would come and cook meals from Mom’s recipes that could be frozen and they would wash her bedding.  They were also company on some lonely nights.

“Tara” came that Thursday night and was so kind.  She listened to Mom and explained what to expect.  She eased Mom’s fears of her life being taken over by strangers in her own house.  Knowing that the home care workers were there also eased our minds when we couldn’t be there.  We knew that if something went wrong they would be there at certain times and if she didn’t answer her door they would let us know.  Mom had known home care workers for many years, including a few that were now helping her out, so she had enormous respect for what they were doing.  She appreciated every effort that was made for her.  That first night we had no idea that these women would join us so completely in Mom’s journey, share in some extremely intimate moments and become a part of our family.

The fact that Mom lived on her own and that my Aunt A lives 2 hours away; I live 45 minutes away, have children and a full time job; and my sister lives just out of town but also works and has 2 children made it difficult to have someone with Mom whenever she needed it.  So God sent us angels.  There were many more than we even knew about I’m sure.  But today I’ll describe 1 very important angel.

The time that Mom spent at St B hospital during August and September of 2009 was difficult to say the least.  How do you deal with being told that your abdomen is full of tumors?  And we all tried to be there as much as possible but our lives did have to go on outside of the hospital.  One bright spot was her roommate, let’s call her Daisy.  Daisy was amazing for Mom.  She had an incredible sense of humor and really cared about Mom.  She would look out for her and let us know if anything unusual had gone on while we weren’t there.  This was so important because my Mom wouldn’t tell us what the doctor or nurse had said if we weren’t there to hear it.  Mom couldn’t handle what she had been told most of the time so she would usually say that she didn’t know what they had said or just that we should speak with the charge nurse.  And so that’s where we would go.  But Daisy was able to give us insight every once in a while that the nurses couldn’t.  Daisy wasn’t nosy, she was vigilant and caring.

One day 3 or 4 doctors came into Mom’s room and spoke to her about her condition.  And to this day we don’t know what that conversation was because Daisy knew when privacy was needed and left the room and Mom never even mentioned that doctors had been there.  Once I had spoken with Daisy I knew better than to ask Mom about the conversation.  When Daisy came back and the doctor’s were leaving one of them leaned over and said, “Keep her laughing, she’s going to need it.”  Daisy took this seriously and made it her mission to keep my Mom’s spirits up.  And Mom was very quiet after that conversation with the doctors so she didn’t ask her either, just gave her some space so she could deal with whatever it was that she had been told.

There was also a day that I arrived and Mom was in quite a good mood and she proceeded to tell me that the doctor had been there to tell her that there was hope.  Her prognosis wasn’t as dire as they had previously said.  The doctors were going to do chemo and they had high hopes.  I was hesitant to believe this based on everything else we had been told but joined in Mom’s relief.  As soon as I could I got away with Daisy to ask her if she knew anything about what my Mom had said.  Daisy hadn’t heard the conversation because she again had left when the doctor came but it was so good to talk to her and get her perspective to bring me back to reality.  I then talked to the doctor the next day and found out that Mom had not been completely truthful.  The doctors had come to tell her that she was not able to be cured but that if she was up to it they would start chemo treatments as soon as she had recovered enough.  The chemo would hopefully get rid of whatever small tumors were left over from surgery.  But they couldn’t guarantee how much time she would have after the chemo stopped before the tumors would return.  And they would return.  I was devastated.  I wanted so badly to believe her and I felt duped.  I think that was when my resolve to always second guess got stronger.  Again I went to Daisy just to talk and make sense of it.  And she calmed me down by saying that my Mom didn’t mean to mislead me she just didn’t want to be the one to tell me the real news.  She told me as much as could deal with and wanted me to get the rest from the doctors.  Mom hadn’t wanted us to worry.   That helped enormously to understand where Mom was coming from.

Mom and Daisy had a great time together watching old Elvis movies, joking about the food and joking with the nurses.  Daisy would join right in when visitors were there and then leave for a while to be sure Mom had the time she needed.  I don’t know how deep their conversations ever got but I don’t think that was Daisy’s part on Mom’s team.  They became friends; something Mom really needed being in the city away from her other friends in Steinbach.  And Daisy became an ally that we could rely on to watch out for her when we weren’t there.  When Mom found out Daisy was going home she was quite upset.   They had been roommates for a month.  You get to know and trust a person over the period of a month.  Mom had more really good roommates but no one like Daisy.  They kept up after they had both left the hospital and Daisy was at Mom’s funeral.  We are so very thankful to Daisy for making Mom’s life a little brighter.

As I sit here at my kitchen table I am listening to some of the music that soothed my Mom for her last year and 4 months.  It is excruciating and beautiful all at the same time.  As I hear, “Blessed Assurance” and “Savior like a Shepherd Lead Us” I am transported back to her dimly lit open living space with her laying in her hospital bed central to whatever was happening.  She was always the focus no matter what else was going on; home care workers, nurses, friends and family.  Life went on outside her window, people coming and going with their groceries and children.  Sometimes I would just watch them as they went on with their lives having no idea what was happening behind the partially drawn vertical blinds.  But life seemed to stand still in apartment 101.  As her newly peaked interests started to fade from everything that she was so thankful to enjoy to barely moving the one thing that kept her was her music.

And now that music keeps me.  Some days it feels a bit like torture to listen to “It is well with My Soul” and I wonder why I do it but it is also the best memories I have of my Mom.  Her time of sickness was also her time of peace.  But we helping her gain peace left me pain.  I am left with wounds and scars that may never heal.   I do not regret a minute of it but I am here to say, “Tread lightly.”  There are things that doctors, nurses, etc. do not tell you about caring for a family member.  I feel haunted some days.  I hear someone breathe a certain way and I am instantly sent back to her last hours when her breathing became raspier.  I hear my son say, “OK, ok.”  And I’m instantly transported back to her bedside listening to her say that same phrase over and over while she struggled to keep her thoughts together as her brain and body became weaker from starvation.

Living with almost constant tension, anxiety and exhaustion for a year and a half has left me with painful joints and tension that have finally started to let up 8 months later.  I have also been left with mild anxiety issues that used to turn into panic attacks.  They have lessened greatly but every once in a while I know that I have to back away from a situation to keep it in check.

I have been told the typical phrases of well-meaning “consolation” many times over the years through many periods of grief.  I know the steps of grief not from a book but from life.  I know that the steps of grief are not a straight clean staircase with a few landings put in for resting.  The steps of grief are messy.  There’s stuff all over them that has to be dealt with.  You can just step over the stuff but it’ll just be there waiting the next time you come around.  Some staircases holding the steps of grief are winding, you never know what’s around the bend.  Other staircases are narrow and treacherous and you feel like you are going to lose your footing and fall back to the bottom of the stairs.  And some days you do fall.  Then there are staircases that seem to go in a never ending circle and you just keep ending up at the same place you started at.

I am here to say that care giving and loss are painful.  There is no quick fix.  I will not deny or ignore my grief because I have watched others make that attempt.  I’m not okay.  I’m grieving.  I’m grieving for not only for my Mother but other family who went before her.  Her absence makes their absence more apparent.  I grieve not only for my Mother’s death but also for the relationship we had finally started and more so for her suffering.  And not just the 18 months of suffering but the 33 years before that as well.  I know that she is in a happier place and she doesn’t care about the suffering that she went through and I’m so happy and relieved for her.  But I do care; I am here on earth and still feel the pain that we helped her carry.  I know this will become a little easier but until it does I have the music.

Thankfully Mom was amazing at recovery.  She surprised and impressed the doctors with how fast she was up and walking.  Her determination was legendary on the 7^th floor.  It was so great to see after so much difficulty.  She was so excited to tell everyone how far she had walked the last time and how far she hoped to get on her next walk.  We were all so relieved.  She would go and sit in the visitor’s area and talk to whomever was there.  She met some amazing people.  There was the lady who sat and knit.  She would hardly look up; she would just sit and knit.  Finally, she started to join in conversations and we found out that her son was on the 7^th floor due to cancer.  He had been battling for a long time and he was in very bad shape.  She was there day and night with her knitting.  About 2 weeks before my Mom left I went after work and he had passed away in the night.  My Mom didn’t talk about it but I could tell it bothered her.

Mom fought really hard to keep her mental health in the only way she knew how; self-preservation and denial.  She focused on anything and everything positive and tried to deny that anything was wrong.  She insisted many, many times over that she felt at peace.  Which was good but she was also trying to keep up the appearance that she was fine.  She didn’t want to show any weakness like if she did she was acknowledging the possibility of mortality.  Before I would leave for the night I would “put her to bed”.  I would take her for her last walk around 8 or 8:30 and we would sit and watch the sun go down over the Assiniboine River.  The nurses would come to do their last checks of their shift and get Mom comfortable in her bed.  Then I would make sure that she had enough water, a midnight snack, clean off her tray and make sure she had her newspaper or crossword book nearby.  I would stay till about 9:30 or 10; with her usually telling me gently that I needed to go.  One particular night I could tell that Mom was putting on a brave face.  I could see that she was upset but wouldn’t talk about it.  She didn’t want to worry us.  I did something I had never done before; I knelt down by her hospital bed and whispered in her ear.  I told her that it was okay to not always be brave.  That we were thankful that she was feeling peace but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell us her fears.  I tried to give her permission to cry, to be angry, to break down; to talk to someone.  I told her she didn’t have to talk to me or anyone else in the family.  Just talk to someone.   But she was quiet.

At some point while she was in the hospital she asked me after sitting quietly, “Did they really say that I have breast cancer or do they need to do more testing still?”  My heart broke.  I didn’t know what to say but I had to think fast and be honest.  I told her “No Mom, they did say that you have breast cancer.  I’m so sorry.”  She crinkled up her mouth, looking out the window and very disappointed and said, “That’s the one thing I really didn’t want.”  Meanwhile I’m sitting there stunned.  She had been told about her breast tumor over a month before and it had been discussed in numerous meetings.  And here she was in the hospital due to a mass number of tumors throughout her abdomen that couldn’t be cured.  But she was worried about a 2 cm slow growing tumor under her arm.  I didn’t know what else to say.

As difficult as those weeks were the fact that she recovered without any infections or complications was nothing short of a miracle.  We were so thankful.  By the end of her stay I was far more concerned about her emotional health than her physical health.

It was around 11:30pm when the surgeon came to talk to us.  He said that there were a lot of tumors throughout her abdomen, more than they had expected.  They had gotten the majority of it but it had been just too much so they had to leave some behind.  They had also done a colostomy; what Mom, along with the rest of us, dreaded the most.  The surgeon said that someone would let us know when they were bringing her back up to her room.  So we waited and waited.  We got restless from exhaustion so we started wandering.  We couldn’t find anyone – it was about 1:30am.  So we went up to her room, but she wasn’t there and the nurses hadn’t seen her yet.  So we went up and down the elevators looking for good vending machines, and got a little giddy from hunger and exhaustion, well that’s my story anyway.  We finally shared a little bag of chips and went back down to the surgical floor.  Still no Mom so we sat there for a bit and went back up to her room and there she was!  We had somehow passed her in the elevators.  She was hooked up to everything and the machines were making a lot of noise so we left.  But now what?  It’s about 2:30 by now so we decide that we should try to get some sleep.  So we go to the end of the hall and each took 2 visitor arm chairs and put them together to sleep on.  Auntie went and found some pillows and I think we may have dozed a little.  We woke up at 4:30, checked on Mom and decided we needed some food.  So we went to find breakfast at 5am.  The coffee was extra good that morning.  We went back to the hospital and Mom was still sleeping so we checked in with the nurses and just sat for a while.

Then I decided that I needed to make some family phone calls.  I had called and texted my sister a few times through the night to let her know how things were going but I had Aunts and Uncles that would be worried.  So I went down to the hospital atrium and called them one by one before they all left for church.  I not only had to tell them how Mom’s surgery had gone but we had also had a meeting with the Oncologist during the week and I needed to give them an update.

The Oncologist had an incredible bedside manner, and she needed it.  She made it very clear that Mom’s cancer was not curable.  She never used the word terminal, never gave a timeline or a date which I was thankful for.  My Auntie A, my sister and I were all there with Mom and it was very difficult to listen to some of the worst news possible in this situation.  I kept looking at Mom I was so worried about her and saw that soon after the doctor started talking Mom checked out.  She just glazed over and didn’t really listen to what was being said.  I can’t blame her for not wanting to know.  The doctor also said that they still didn’t have any answers as to what type of cancer Mom had.  They had sent off the pathology to the Mayo clinic in Minnesota and a lab in Toronto to see if they could get some answers.  There were about 3 or 4 doctors that had opinions on what the cancer was but they couldn’t agree so they sent it off.  I think Mom was in awe of how many people were involved in her case.  We were all baffled at the situation.  It is quite rare to have 2 independent cancers at the same time so the doctors wanted to be extra sure of what was happening.

After I updated the family and some friends the morning after her surgery I went back upstairs and tried to rest.  The phone calls were so draining.  Just repeating over and over that my Mom had terminal cancer was so difficult but it prepared me for much worse phone calls to come.  I wanted to be there when she woke up and for part of the day to be sure that she was okay.  I stayed till about 7:30 that night.  I know my Aunt was there but can’t remember when she left.  I hadn’t hardly been home all weekend and had to get ready for work the next day.  I couldn’t stop shaking as I sat in my kitchen trying to process what we had all been through.  My kids rightfully wanted my attention but I just couldn’t focus and could hardly speak.  I still don’t know how I made it through work the next day.   I’m thankful for understanding management who let me take breaks when I needed to just go for a walk or go in another room to cry or take a phone call.  I’m not sure how I would have made it otherwise.

So, back to my Mom on the 7^th floor of St Boniface hospital in August of 2009 after an emergency due to cancer.

Mom seemed to be improving but a few days after I got home from vacation I got to the hospital and found that they had put the tube back down into her stomach.  She had a setback.  They did more tests and decided that surgery would have to happen but they would have to wait for her to be off the stomach tube and stable again.  They were most likely going to have to do a colostomy.  Mom was very matter of fact and just said if that was what they had to do she would figure out how to deal with it.  So, she became stable again and was taken off the tube.  The surgery date was decided but there happened to be a shortage of surgeons due to multiple emergencies and vacations etc.  So we waited.  It wasn’t that long, a couple days at the most but it felt like an eternity and it really upset Mom.  They would get her ready and say that they would be there in half an hour but then another emergency would come up and she would get bumped again.  My Aunt A, who is from Warroad, Minnesota, came in from Steinbach early that Saturday morning and I got there around 5 that evening.  Most of that Saturday was spent just trying to keep her calm.  She had an amazing room mate who I will talk about in a later blog who helped out a lot.

Finally around 8pm they came to get her and took her down to surgery.  Auntie A and I went down with her as far as we could go and stayed with her till the last minute.  My Uncle H (Mom’s brother) had told me on the phone that morning to pass on a message to my Mom that he was thinking of the old hymn, “Safe in the Arms of Jesus.”  So we talked about that and tried to keep the mood light.  But then the OR nurse came and asked Mom to take off her rings.  We had known that this would probably happen and it was heart wrenching when it did come up.  My Mom had 2 rings on, her class ring and her wedding ring.  She had been wearing her class ring since 1959 – 50 years and her wedding ring for 36 years.   And she couldn’t take them off, they were too tight.  The OR attendants tried to pry them off every way they could but they just wouldn’t budge.  Finally they said they would have to cut them off and my heart stopped for a second.  I just felt so awful for my Mom but what do you say?  What do you do?  She took it pretty well on the outside but I could tell her heart was breaking.  I stood there as they snipped each of them and placed them in my hand.  It was a surreal and incredibly sad moment.  This is what it had come to.  I stared at the rings for a bit trying to process what was happening.  Not knowing what would be found, what would have to be done, whether anything could be done?  We held hands; my Aunt A said a prayer and they led her away on the stretcher.  Someone led my Aunt and I to the surgical waiting room and we sat.  And we waited.