Turbo Cancer: Day 142 - October 31, 2022
Changing
On this day, last year, my mom wrote:
Very tough day.. severe back pain. 80% in bed. No comfortable position. Depressed. Thinking about hospice. Missed out on seeing kids carve pumpkins. They had a great time.
Finally slept. Today I will stay current on pain meds.
I did not know that, on this day, my mom was thinking about hospice.
My mom did not know that, on this day, I was also thinking about hospice.
Neither one of us said the words out loud.
My mom had been put through all of the treatments and tests. She had had scans and surgeries and injections and pills. The medical system had given her everything they had.
But she wasn’t better. She was worse.
She kept getting worse and worse and worse.
My boys and their friends had come to my mom’s backyard, on this day, to carve pumpkins and celebrate the holiday. With her.
She didn’t come downstairs.
She didn’t want anyone to come upstairs.
She wanted to be alone. She wanted only me.
I had read that one of the stages of dying was social withdrawal. As a person nears their end, their energy becomes more focused on death than on life. That’s what was happening. I could see it.
As a lively, active group of teenagers were happily celebrating in the back yard, my mom stayed in her quiet bed. She avoided light, noise and stimulation.
At this time, all she could do was sit in her pain. She could not find relief in the people or events occurring around her.
Things were changing. My mom wanted live, but she didn’t want to suffer any longer. She could see the light of salvation, but she wasn’t ready to walk away and leave us all behind. Not quite yet.
She didn’t say the word “hospice” out loud. She was not ready to stop fighting. She did not want to stop living. She did not want to leave those whom she loved. She still had a reason to be here. She still had a purpose.
But things were changing.
I knew this was going to happen, God is calling to her.
Kristi, I so appreciate you sharing this story.