Monday, September 22, 2014

September 3, 2013

So this post has been weighing heavily on my mind for awhile now. The day my mom died. It's only taken me over a year to get to the point where I think I can begin to tell the story. I'm going to be honest here, I'm not sure how much I can get through. But I am going to try.

I can't bring myself to read the posts that led up to her death day, but I am pretty sure that everyone knows Labor Day weekend, my sisters, dad and I were caring for mom around the clock. My dad "had" to go to work on Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, so I told him that I would come to the house at 6:30 in the morning to relieve him. That day I was planning on going to Dr. Greenfield's to have my FMLA paperwork signed so that I could care for mom. And please remember, I was 37 weeks pregnant with my third child. It was a chaotic time.

I got to mom's as planned at 6:30 in the morning. I remember that I was wearing black gauchos, a black long-sleeved shirt and my sandals. Dad greeted me at the door saying that it had been a hard night and that he didn't want to, but had to go to work to put in some hours. When I walked into the family room where the hospital bed was....I found my mom in a disgusting state. She looked like an animal the way he treated her.

She was laying in the hospital bed, skin and bones, with her nightgown CUT OFF at her belly button and no underwear on. My dad explained that she had peed on herself last night and that he couldn't get her up, so he just cut off her nightgown and took her underwear off and tried to change the sheets. I was looking at my mom, all of about 90 pounds at that point, naked and vulnerable and out of it. She would have been MORTIFIED.

I quickly put a sheet over her so that she wasn't as exposed. It was truly disgusting.....she may not have been with it, but she deserved dignity.

I should note, I didn't go over to mom's that day thinking that that was going to be her last day with us. I knew she didn't have long, but I never thought she was going to die that day.

So, my dad started telling me that Kasey was coming over as well, because when mom would want to get up to go to the bathroom, I wasn't going to be able to handle her by herself. At this point she was using one of those toilets on wheels. We would have to hook our hands under her arms to lift and move her to where she needed to be. He was afraid that with me being so prego that I wouldn't be able to do it by myself. I would soon learn that he was right.

So, he left and I sat down and started watching trash TV. I held her hand, caressed her skin and just sat.

Kasey came soon after, maybe around 8:00? At that point, mom started to fuss. After a little bit of a scramble, we figured out that mom had to go to the bathroom. So I hooked my hands under both of her arms and lifted. She was a little heavy, surprisingly. As I turned to take her the two steps to the toilet, she started peeing. My poor mom who was only half dressed, no underwear on, with her oldest daughter holding the front of her and her baby holding her on the side, started peeing.

I remember the pee falling on their hardwood floor and splashing up my leg. I remember putting my head down and just.....painfully....taking the moment in. She didn't know what she was doing, she just knew that she couldn't pee laying down. I believe that both Kasey and I put our heads down when we realized what was happening.

I struggle as I write this because my mom would have been mortified. But she was so sick from the cancer that she was literally out of her mind. When mom was done I was covered in her urine and the floor had a big puddle. BUT, she felt better and that was all I cared about. Fuck if I care that I have some pee on me. It was traumatic, because at that point I think I knew there was no going back. Mom was so out of it that there was absolutely, positively, no going back.

I think I have to stop now because I am honestly feeling sick. Sick because the fucking breast cancer made my mom's last day traumatic. Sick because I've finally put it out there. Sick because I've acknowledged how my dad left her that morning. Sick because she's dead. And sick because I miss her.

I guess I'll try another day to tell more. I can't do it now.

11 comments:

  1. Hi Jessica,
    I can feel the pain in your words. It's very hard to write about these personal and very painful memories. I have not yet shared about some of my mine and it's been six years since my mother died. Some of them may remain 'secrets' forever. I haven't decided yet. I'm glad you are writing about your pain and I hope it helps you in your grieving. Your honesty will surely help other caretakers who find themselves in similar situations. Big hugs to you. Thank you for sharing.

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    1. Thank you so much Nancy. The post was weighing to heavily on my mind to not write. It feels so .....final :(

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  2. dear Jessica,

    I am so very sorry for the sad emotions and the excruciating memories of your dear Mom's last day. it must have been a sentinel time, one that I am sure must have been so traumatic in the moment when you realized that for your Mother "there was absolutely, positively no going back." I am relived for you for realizing that you just could not go on writing about it, there are times when even taking baby steps is so terribly heart wrenching. thank you for sharing as much as you were able, and I hope that writing it provides something you will find within yourself that made it worthwhile, sending warm hugs your way...

    Karen

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    1. It did make me feel a little better....I am hoping to write more. As awful as it was, I want to remember that day. THank you for reaching out.

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  3. Dearest Jessica, I have to be honest, I read as much as I could of this painful account but had to stop several times as it brought so many vivid memories back to life of my own Mom's death three years ago. I am still traumatized by the memories and reading your words, I can see it's very much the same for you. I will email you as there's more I want to say in private. @JBBC

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    1. Thank you Marie. Thank you for sharing my story. I feel naked and vulnerable having put it out there, but it is so important to me that I tell my story. Breast cancer was and is a beast. I just don't think that people get it.

      I sent you a message, but my email is jessicafpetersen@yahoo.com. Hugs.

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  4. Dear Jessica, it's such cruel memories to hold on to. Cancer is so cruel. I do hope as you share some of them it allows the happier times to come back too. Sending my thoughts to you. Audrey. Xx

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    1. Thank you so much Audrey....cancer is so cruel.

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  5. Jessica, I found your blog via Marie at JBBC and am wrecked by your writing. I know that pain, having lost my mom to ovarian cancer nearly 9 years ago. I'm so sorry that your mom's last day is clouded by bad memories (although I wonder if it's possible to have good memories of a last day). Although my mom's awful last days were such a long time ago, I still have to work hard to remember her before she was sick. I have to work hard to hear her normal voice instead of her cancer-ridden voice. Instead of picturing her sweet smiling face, I see her frail, wasted body. It's a terrible thing, and I hate that we are united by it. But, I am grateful to you for your unflinching honesty. Thank you for writing despite the pain.

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    1. At this point it feels like my mom always had breast cancer, when in reality it was only three years. You are spot on - all I see is her frail, twisted body. Her sad, drawn face. It's truly the most awful thing ever.

      I am so sorry for the loss of your mom and I sincerely appreciate you reaching out to me.

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  6. hi Jessica,

    I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you; I imagine the holiday season this year is one that is not so festive. it's so hard when we lose a Beloved one so close and dear to us. so here are some gentle warm hugs to offer comfort...

    with much love, oooooooooo

    karen

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