A year ago was a very different time in my life. A year ago Mitch was in Pueblo, CO at his Initial Flight Screening and I was in Ohio hanging out with my family. I didn't have my puppies, but I had my mother. Ironically, I was reading one of many failed journals and one of my entries was just after New Years in January of 2012 and I was recalling my very emotional New Years Eve. I broke down during the first moments of 2012, uncontrollably emotional about how I feared this would be my last year with my mom. A few days short of a year later on Saturday, December 29, 2012, I had Mitch clear the snow off the front sidewalk at my Mom's house so I could wheel her to the car and drive her to the hospital for the last time.
I had called her on my way to Chipotle to tell her that Mitch and I were picking up food then taking it to meet his mom for lunch, then we would be on our way to see her. I asked her how she was feeling that day, as I did every day. She told me she woke up around 1am and had a really bad pain and couldn't breathe out of her right lung. My stepdad's solution to this was to have her take another pain pill and go back to bed. She eventually fell back asleep but woke again in the morning with the same pain. Why he didn't take her to the emergency room right away, I will never understand. I told her I would be right there to take her to the hospital and hung up to call Mitch and redirect our plans. Mitch and I drove separately that day because we were both planning on me staying at my Mom's while he went back later to hang out with his parents...we were way too prepared as it turned out. If you've never experienced what I like to call a "life pivot" then you may not understand, but there come times when you feel all at once utterly helpless, empty, scared, anxious, or even excited...you lose control of everything for a moment and are instantly forced to accept a new reality. You look at your life from the outside for a moment and you just have to let it happen, knowing nothing will ever be the same again.
I have had many life pivots in my time on earth. Some more dramatic than others; some happy and some just horrible. The moment I married Mitch was a happy pivot and I didn't want life to ever go back to being how it was. Horrible pivots are self-explanatory.
On January 2, 2013, we made the move to Hospice of Dayton. I have always wondered what my mom was thinking about during her ambulance ride from the hospital to Hospice. I know while I was driving right behind the ambulance, all I could do was worry about them getting her there safe. It's ironic that I would care they got her to the place she would die without killing her, but being killed in a car accident after a five and a half year long courageous battle with Multiple Myeloma was more injustice than I could even fathom. I recall very clearly standing in the empty hospital room just after she was removed and crying with my sister, Kaitlyn. It's unreal how many times I've cried in a hospital over the years and I knew this was going to be my last time crying in one for my mom.
Hospice is a wonderful, despicable place. We figured one day it would come to this, but miracles are supposed to happen sometimes, right? The last time I had been in that hospice was almost three years earlier to say goodbye to my dad. Fortunately, between some of the interior being redone and my mental trauma of that time, I couldn't even recognize where his room had been. My dad went quickly once he got to hospice, but we knew that wouldn't be the case for mom.
I know that when we lost dad I never thought anything would make sense again, but eventually it did. This is going to take longer and I'm quite convinced life will never make sense to me now, but I have to accept this pivot and keep going.
"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice there is."
A lot of people tell me that I am the strongest person they know...I guess that means I am the person that has had to be more strong than anyone else they know. I am not a strong person in comparison to my mom or my dad. I try to live in ways that honor them and make them proud, but I don't pretend to be strong about it. I don't ever argue with someone I agree with without thinking of my dad's uncanny ability to analyze every situation to a point that he could change his argument in favor of almost any opinion, just to keep people on their toes. I know waking up to my socks lost somewhere in the sheets is because my mom and I both had body temperatures controlled by our feet and when we got hot those were the first to go, even in an unconscious state of sleep.
I hope to make a collection of all these memories of my parents so I never forget why I am the way I am. I want my possible future children to know who their grandparents were and love their memories.
Hopefully once I get out most of my feelings I will be able to write about more cheery things my parents would be proud of. But for now, my life is who I am and that's what I have to write about.
I have had many life pivots in my time on earth. Some more dramatic than others; some happy and some just horrible. The moment I married Mitch was a happy pivot and I didn't want life to ever go back to being how it was. Horrible pivots are self-explanatory.
We spent New Years in the hospital and even had a little "party" in my mom's room. We brought hats, sparkling cider, and some food. I remember her being such a good sport...she even wore the giant New Years Eve top hat we got her. The DVD of Mitch and my wedding had just been completed so we popped it in and and watched it as if it were just an evening at home while reminiscing about the fun we had that day. The first few moments of 2013 I remember thinking I wanted to just close my eyes and go back in time. I knew 2013 had nothing good coming for our family and I felt like I was being pulled along against my will into the new year.
On January 2, 2013, we made the move to Hospice of Dayton. I have always wondered what my mom was thinking about during her ambulance ride from the hospital to Hospice. I know while I was driving right behind the ambulance, all I could do was worry about them getting her there safe. It's ironic that I would care they got her to the place she would die without killing her, but being killed in a car accident after a five and a half year long courageous battle with Multiple Myeloma was more injustice than I could even fathom. I recall very clearly standing in the empty hospital room just after she was removed and crying with my sister, Kaitlyn. It's unreal how many times I've cried in a hospital over the years and I knew this was going to be my last time crying in one for my mom.
Hospice is a wonderful, despicable place. We figured one day it would come to this, but miracles are supposed to happen sometimes, right? The last time I had been in that hospice was almost three years earlier to say goodbye to my dad. Fortunately, between some of the interior being redone and my mental trauma of that time, I couldn't even recognize where his room had been. My dad went quickly once he got to hospice, but we knew that wouldn't be the case for mom.
Mom was very alert for the first week; she was talkative, joking around, and doing puzzles with me. I stayed with her every night and only left to take showers unless some friends came to visit to force me to eat for a bit. Kaitlyn stayed almost every night too; thank God we had each other to lean on. It was such a mental challenge to accept that this woman, who was stealing my breakfast sandwiches and ordering me about picking up the room, was not going to survive. It gives me chills to describe it but it was almost like for one week she got to be normal again...she had an appetite, she wasn't in much pain, and she sarcastically picked on all her visitors in her innocent, witty style. I know I'm repeating myself, but it was just so crazy how she hadn't been able to taste any good food for so long because of the chemo, but she sure enjoyed food that last week!
I will never forget while she was still conscious and everyone would leave for the night, how she was so brave. Sometimes she would cry, but it was always because she was worried about Kaitlyn and I. I would cry the most and curl up next to her on that tiny bed while she assured me it would be okay. She was the strongest, most loving, least selfish person I have ever known.
My turn to comfort her came as she began losing her ability to communicate. Kaitlyn and I started to easily pick up on her subtle signs of pain starting to creep back up so we could call for more medicine for her. We had a system of changing her depends and cleaning her up. We worked together to rotate her on different sides to avoid bed sores. We tried to keep her lips unchapped and her hands and feet lotioned. It never seemed like we could do enough, despite how much we did.
There came a day where she developed hiccups and things started to go quickly downhill from there. She would hiccup and then moan after each one. She got them with maybe 5 minute breaks in between, even through the night. Medicine wasn't really working and it was so painful to listen to her uncontrollably jolt her body with each hiccup. We would take turns waking up through the night to call for more medicine to try to lessen her discomfort from them, but it was in vain. I think the hiccups were the point we started to pray for her to let go and pass on. I have never felt more helpless in my entire life. The things that happened to her because her body was shutting down were absolutely sickening and I will never be able to un-see them. Horrible is the only word that comes to mind.
Thursday, January 17, 2013, 10:29am...dreadful life pivot. I had just sent Kaitlyn off to get her errands done that we never accomplished because we never left Mom's side. I laced up my shoes so I could walk down the hall to get coffee. I was texting my friend, Christy, who was watching our puppies while Mitch and I were in Ohio, because I knew it was getting close to the 20th of the month and I had bet Mitch didn't leave her our dogs heart guard medicine. Well, lucky for me, I was right. Explaining where it was and when they needed it took priority and I sat in that chair next to her bed instead of leaving. I used to think seconds only seemed significant when I was running on the treadmill...turns out seconds are powerful things. I heard my mom breathe oddly and went over to her left side to hold her hand to calm her down. Sometimes she would make odd sounds or breathe strangely, but I knew this was different immediately. The breaths were so strained and I can only describe it as what I would imagine it would sound like to hear someone try to breathe out of a punctured lung. I hit the nurse call button immediately even though I knew it wouldn't, shouldn't help. I said I didn't know what was happening but I needed her nurse immediately. Steve got there in like 10 seconds and verified that she was taking her last breaths. I sobbed as I shook so hard I couldn't even get my phone to make a call to my sister. I finally called her and told her through tears, "Katie, it's happening". She wasn't even two thirds of the way home and then I had to worry she was going to wreck on her way back. I'm still unsure if I made the call to Kaitlyn before she took her last breath or not, because it all happened too fast. I know I called my aunt Cindy and told her it was happening also, but I am sure mom was already gone at that point. Steve left me after her last breath and I lost it, I couldn't handle it. I called Mitch and about ten mins later Steve came back and did the official verification of her passing. Everyone believed my mom waited to be alone with me, but I don't know. I am so grateful I got to be there with her. People told me I shouldn't because its a hard thing to do, but mom and I knew it was best for me to be there till her very last heart beat. I didn't let go of her left hand until 12:00pm when I forced myself to let her go. I felt her go from hot to cool, but I couldn't let go.
My mom was my hero, my best friend, and my teacher. She was the greatest woman I have ever known and I will never be able to get over her loss. I miss her more than words can even come together to explain.
My mom was my hero, my best friend, and my teacher. She was the greatest woman I have ever known and I will never be able to get over her loss. I miss her more than words can even come together to explain.
I know that when we lost dad I never thought anything would make sense again, but eventually it did. This is going to take longer and I'm quite convinced life will never make sense to me now, but I have to accept this pivot and keep going.
"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice there is."
A lot of people tell me that I am the strongest person they know...I guess that means I am the person that has had to be more strong than anyone else they know. I am not a strong person in comparison to my mom or my dad. I try to live in ways that honor them and make them proud, but I don't pretend to be strong about it. I don't ever argue with someone I agree with without thinking of my dad's uncanny ability to analyze every situation to a point that he could change his argument in favor of almost any opinion, just to keep people on their toes. I know waking up to my socks lost somewhere in the sheets is because my mom and I both had body temperatures controlled by our feet and when we got hot those were the first to go, even in an unconscious state of sleep.
I hope to make a collection of all these memories of my parents so I never forget why I am the way I am. I want my possible future children to know who their grandparents were and love their memories.
Hopefully once I get out most of my feelings I will be able to write about more cheery things my parents would be proud of. But for now, my life is who I am and that's what I have to write about.
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