"I want to be sure you know where this stuff came from."
"Um, Okay?" I said, in the sarcastic tone of a 17 year old daughter.
I don't remember if I actually said it, or if it was just the thought that was going through my mind, but what I remember feeling and maybe even saying was, "Why do I need to know? I know you are sick and you don't feel well, but you are going to be fine. And I don't really have time right now."You see, I was 17, an honor student, obsessed with theater and performance choir at school, was the youth lay representative at my local church, active in the youth group, sang in the chancel choir at church, took voice lessons and participated in vocal competitions, worked a part-time job, was deeply engrossed in the college research process and was preparing to be "the best" at whatever I chose to do as a career (namely, vocal performance - which included auditions at any of the major schools I was considering). And all of this had to be done without my parents. My Mom was nearly completely bed-ridden with bone cancer and my father was out of town most of the time on business.
As much I was trying to be empathetic, I really didn't feel like I had the time and I was having difficulty focusing on what my mother was trying to tell me. Not to mention, I just couldn't accept it.
(I had planned to write this blog the day after the last blog I wrote which was November 12. But for some reason, I haven't been able to do it. In fact, now that I think about it, it's kind of like that evening my mother wanted to give me a history lesson about the family heirlooms...it hasn't been a conscious decision not to write. Once again, subconsciously, I have allowed a full schedule and the fact that I am incredibly "busy" be my excuse. I simply haven't had time. It has been nagging and nagging at me and I have been doing what I have always done...AVOIDING it. But, just this morning, The Daily Bread from "Love, Serve, Shine! Ministries" reminded me that sometimes, the "nagging" shouldn't be ignored! Many times, it is GOD's way of answering our prayers about, "What am I supposed to be doing, Lord? Tell me what you want me to do!" So...I'm doing it...)
November 13, 1988
It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon which, as always, involved UMYF (United Methodist Youth Fellowship). I don't remember the exact schedule, but I do remember that I had a full evening planned. And, oh, by the way...my Mom was in the hospital again.
She wasn't at the Morton Cancer Research Center in Dallas this time. She and Dad had become frustrated with the doctors there, so she had visited with our local family doctor who had treated our family for years. He immediately checked her into the local hospital to run more tests. My sense was that we were starting over with a "clean slate".
I had a regular schedule when she was in the hospital that involved visiting her first thing in the morning and then again in the evenings on the weekends and just the evenings on the weekdays. In fact, that was my schedule even when she was at home. But I ALWAYS went. I LOVED to go. It helped me to cope. It was sort of like my therapy. The doctors and nurses did what they do best...took care of her and took care of me. And Mom was always so funny and positive. I loved to talk to her.
And, let's not forget the food! Strange as it sounds, I loved hospital food. I was always there for breakfast and dinner!
So, this Sunday morning, I visited her before church, as usual. I distinctly remember that it was a gorgeous day and I was very thankful for it...cool, but not cold, sunny, and a vibrant blue sky. When I got to Mom's room, she was in a great deal of distress which was unusual. Usually, her complaints were of pain - which was managed with pain medication - and fatigue. But she was clearly having trouble breathing; not just a little, but she was really struggling. She was on the verge of panicking. Mom kept reaching for her chest and asked me to call the nurse. She kept saying she felt like she was drowning. This was particularly disturbing because she had always been extremely fearful of water. She never learned to swim because she was always afraid of drowning.
When the nurse arrived, she was irritatingly casual. My Mom felt as though she was drowning and this woman came strolling in, routinely checking tubes and saying things like, "Honey, you're fine. You're breathing just fine. You're sats are fine." But Mom repeated that she was not. You could visually see her trying to calm herself. She always tried to do exactly what they told her to do. I think the nurse thought she was simply having an anxiety attack...that had apparently been going on all night.
Fortunately, the doctor was making his rounds and walked in during this. He, thankfully, was immediately concerned. He knew my mother well enough to know that she didn't often complain about this sort of thing and could see that something was not right. He listened to her breathe with his stethoscope and became quite alarmed.
I don't remember if I ended up going to church that morning or not. I feel like I probably did because the next thing I can clearly remember is being with her now in the ICU. I had my best friend from church with me. We were smiling and talking. Mom seemed more relaxed. Then, all of a sudden, the ICU nurse came over and said that they were going to be transferring her to another hospital in Dallas. They had determined that fluid was building up in her lungs and needed to be drained off. The procedure needed to be done elsewhere. Ironically, the Dr. that was going to do the procedure was my father's cardiologist, whom I had also come to know well. So, I was sure everything was going to be fine. It was simply a routine procedure that needed to be done where they had the right equipment. Then, as if in a whirlwind, I began scrambling to figure out what needed to happen next. I had my friend, Kristi, with me and needed to get her home. My Grandmother (my Mom's Mom) was at my house. I needed to get to her to tell her what was happening. I had notify the rest of my family that they were moving her. I asked the nurse if they could wait until I got back. She indicated that they had already arranged for the ambulance to transport my Mom and that when it was time to go, it was time to go.
So, I gave my Mom a kiss and told her I would meet her at the other hospital. If I remember correctly, she seemed much calmer as if she was just glad they were going to fix it. So, I was calm as well...just had to hurry.
I took Kristi home and went to my house to get my Grandma. I don't remember how my brother found out what was going on. (Heck, he may have even been there. The only faces in the ICU I can see in my mind are my Mom and the nurse.) But, the next memory I have is of my brother, my grandmother, and I getting into a car in front of my house to leave for the hospital.
Oh! And where was my father, you might ask? It seems that he, too, felt comfortable with all that was happening because, as so many times before, he left to go on a business trip earlier that day. He always drove because he was a petroleum engineer and worked a lot out in West Texas. I don't remember seeing him at all that day, although I'm sure I did. I have a faint memory of him talking to Mom about whether or not he should go and of her telling him it was okay; but I don't know if that really happened or not.
Again, things get fuzzy except for the profound moments. The next thing I recall is being in the elevator talking to my brother and my grandmother. We had to figure out where to go as we had not been there when Mom arrived. I cannot remember the details of the conversation, but I have a strange sense of irony about the conversation, as if my brother and I were trying to analyze the significance of what was happening. It seems as if we had been told that we could not see her and didn't know why.
Suddenly, in the waiting room, I very clearly remember a shift in the way I was feeling. My mood went from one of frustration from not knowing what was going on to one of intense dread in merely an instant. The feeling swept over me so quickly that I felt nauseous. I don't know if I actually fell down on my knees but I remember feeling very dizzy as if I couldn't stand up. I believe my brother even asked me what was wrong. Shortly thereafter, the nurse, who - amazingly - was a friend of the family whom I had known for as long as I could remember, came into the waiting area...and I knew. Mom was gone.
The hours that followed are indeed, as they say, "a blur". I'm not sure who initiated the search for my Dad. I think it was probably my brother. All I know is that it took hours. We were there at the hospital just waiting and waiting. I'm not even sure what for. I don't remember if we were literally waiting for Dad, or if we were taking care of the "arrangements". But, finally, we learned that a state trooper was able to pull Dad over and give him the news. And we were still at the hospital when he arrived. By the time it was all said and done, there was quite a gathering of people at that hospital there to support us, mostly from our church. Even my friend, Kristi, came with her parents. Before leaving, we all formed a circle, held hands, and the pastor of our church led us in prayer.
It turns out, that Mom had endured so much chemotherapy, that it had actually began to destroy the pericardium - the protective lining - which surrounded her heart and somehow, blood was backing up into her lungs. My mother was, indeed, drowning. When they aspirated the fluid, which turned out to be blood, a clot loosened and moved into such a precarious position that it prevented her from getting the oxygen she needed in order to survive.
At that moment, I became an adult. My father continued to go "on business trips". My grandmother went home and decided she could never return because it would be too painful (and she never did). My sister (who lived in Austin) returned to college, and everyone else went on with their lives. For the first time, my "schedule"- my "busy"- didn't help; nor did it matter. This, I could not avoid.
Proverbs 15:13 (Amp):
A glad heart makes a cheerful countenance, but by sorrow of heart the spirit is broken.
