On to the Next Adventure

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.