Remembering Mom - (Part 1)

Today my mother would have been 88.  Up until my own affliction, my thoughts have always turned to my mom whenever I heard the word cancer.  That hideous cancer.  Her death was unexpected and caught us all by surprise.
 
It started in 1976 with her diagnosis of breast cancer and subsequent mastectomy.  A year and a half later, a second diagnoses of the disease was found in her remaining breast and it was also removed.  After each occurrence and surgery, we were assured by the doctors that the cancer was gone and she would be O.K.  She seemed O.K., living life as she always had.  We hadn't anticipated the final blow --the metastasis of the cancer to her liver.

In January of 1979, my mom and dad went on a once in a lifetime trip to Hawaii.  When they returned, my mom saw the doctor and had some lab work done because she wasn't feeling well.  I was a young adult and wasn't living with my parents at that time, but I was home on that Valentine's Day in February when the doctor called with the lab results.  I'll never forget.  He told my mom that her liver was filled with tumors and gave her 2-3 months to live.  It was unbelievable.  It seemed as if from that moment on, she went downhill... and fast. She didn't even live 2 months. Six weeks later, she was gone.

As with my own health struggle, that time in my life seemed surreal at times.  It was hard to grasp that my own mother, who I loved and respected was going through this experience; as her daughter, so was I.  Up until my mother's illness,  I felt that we hadn't really experienced much tragedy in our family.  I had the security of an intact family. We loved each other. I was insulated from much heartache.  That all changed the day my mother died.  My heart felt the bitter pain of loss & the suffering of sadness.  I was left with questions one often faces when loved ones die before their time and for me, no adequate answers.

The month of my mom's death I was to be in my friend's wedding. As mom continued to get sicker and become weaker, she would make her way to her sewing machine and sew on the bridesmaid's dress until she didn't have the strength.  It was her goal to finish that dress. The very week I was to go to Oregon for the wedding, my mom took a turn for the worse and my family decided it was best for her to go to the hospital.  I really didn't want her to go.  I was taking care of her (or so I thought).  I was in quite a dilemma.  I was torn.  My mom was getting sicker and yet I was to be in a wedding 600 miles away. What was I to do?  ..... I decided to go.  After all, my mom had worked so hard to get the dress done.  (My sister, Jan said she worked on it too.)  I felt she would want me to go.  There was nothing I could do at home anyway.  I cut the trip to a bare minimum and with my friend, Joanie, headed north. Before I left that Thursday morning, I stopped by the hospital to say goodbye to my mom.  The thought entered my mind that I might not see her again. By that point, she was on strong meds and semi-comatose.   I don't know if she knew I came by or not because that was the last time I saw her alive.  She died the following evening.  I called home that night after the rehearsal dinner and my dad said she was gone. Somehow, someway, I made it through the next days.  I still had a wedding to be in.  How I made it, I don't know.

As sad as those days were and as bad as I felt what I want to remember are the good memories, the happy times.......(to be continued later this week)

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