It is unlike my mom to leave without a final word. She had
plans to dictate a final blog post and never got the chance. So I will do it
for her.
Yesterday morning the doctors told us there wasn’t much more
they could do to save Colleen. Her lungs were quickly refilling with fluid
despite the operation she had on Sunday. We believe the procedure gave her a
few extra days however, and we are very grateful for that.
My dad picked me up from the Sage apartment and brought me
to the hospital around 11 a.m. I can tell you one thing for sure, my mom was
not about to give up. When I walked in she was foggily telling the doctor about
her plans to go back to EuroMed to receive chemo for at least two more weeks.
The doctor’s response was to ask her if she wanted to be put on a respirator if
it came to a point where the pneumonia in her lungs got too bad. My dad, Devra,
Gramma and I were all standing around her bed, paralyzed and praying she
wouldn’t opt to be kept alive on a machine. My mom pulling a typical, level-headed
Colleen move, asked the doctor to leave the room so she could talk to her
family. Telling my mom that she was going to die was the hardest thing I have
ever done. But she deserved the truth. She was shocked and upset, but after a
few minutes in her own head she said she was at peace and asked for her meds so
she could go to sleep. She had decided to go to hospice. Aunt Devra, Uncle
Colin, Gramma, Grampa, Daddy and I all sat in the hospital cafeteria in a daze.
Lunch tasted good…I think.
At 2:00 my dad rode with my mom in the ambulance over to the
Hospice of Arizona. The ride was hot and my mom was in a lot of pain. There is
no way to sugar coat this so I guess you should skip this paragraph if you
don’t want to know. Once she was settled in her room at the hospice, they had
trouble managing her pain. Every exhale was a moan and I so admire my dad,
aunt, uncle and grandparents who stayed with her during those terrible hours. I
sat next to her for a little, stroking her hand and singing to her. But I
wasn’t there long. My dad and I went home to have dinner and take care of
Butters. Around 8:00 pm we brought Butters to the hospice (pet-friendly!) and
he only relaxed once her was on her bed, licking her swollen legs and feet.
Devra and Colin took the night shift while my dad and I went home to get a good
night sleep.
We woke up at 4 a.m. and got to the hospice at 5 to relieve
Colin. She was due for another dose of pain medication when we got in and each
breath she took was staggering. My dad knew it was the end. He cooled her legs
by gently rubbing them with a wet cloth and told her how much he loves her. At
5:30 her breath became more labored. I thanked her for being such a great
mother and held her hand as she slipped away. I am so grateful to have been
with her. It seemed so right.
The rest of the family showed up as soon as the news was
out. Her mother held her hand and kept it warm to ensure that her spirit could
move on peacefully with our support. Colin brought coffee and donuts and we all
hugged and cried and talked and made phone calls. I picked Joseph and Blossom
up from the airport at 9 am. He came to the hospice and said his final goodbye.
Her parents saw her body off safely. We found ourselves all together, sitting
around the table, laughing and telling stories. Devra and I realized that she
had spent fewer than 24 hours in the hospice. This is what she would have
wanted. Thank you to everyone who has stayed with her by reading and
contributing to this blog. You have helped create a tangible memory of her that
is truly invaluable.
Final words? What a crazy adventure we have
had indeed! I love you forever Mommy.
