So we had breakfast this morning. I picked it up from the restaurant and brought it to her. My treat :) She apologized for not wanting to go out. I told her I was greatful to be able to spend time with her no matter where it is. I ate my breakfast quickly....because I was nervous at first. I needed to just let the visit take its own flow.
It shocked me a little how much she changed from just a short time ago. Her eyes seemed a little more sunken in, skin a little more pale; her eyebrows were starting to grow back a little. She told me she would really like her eye lashes to grow back before she leaves because her daughters ask her for butterfly kisses. The physical toll fighting this disease is rather apparent. To me, she is beautiful. All the strength and desire to live and fight this horrid disease is still there....and yet it is not enough.
We talked about the normal day to day stuff along with the obvious. She showed me a small book that her daughters and their dad made. It was pictures and stories about what they will remember about their mom. It was hard to read through the tears. She also showed me the girls Valentine's Day gifts: story books that recorded her voice as she read them. What a beautiful way for them to hear their mother's voice whenever they want.
She has also written letters to be given to them by their father at certain points in their lives: the day she dies, when they get married, when they have kids, etc. I can not imagine having to do something like that along with fighting for your life. She filled out "About Me" type books for them to read. She told me that her counselor said, "everyone grieves for losing you, but you grieve for losing everyone else." She is mourning the fact that she won't be here for so many events in her daughters' lives. I can not even wrap my mind around that.
We talked about her decision to stop treatment. Coming to peace with that is not going to be easy for her. I wish there was something I could say. I told her that just because there is a treatment that *might* work, doesn't mean you have to subject yourself to it. There is a point when it is ok to say enough is enough. When it comes to leaving your children behind, I don't think there is anything that can be said about it to make it ok....Some time in the next two weeks, a hospice service worker will be out to discuss with her what they can offer to help keep her comfortable. She doesn't want to die in her mother's home. She will go to a hospice facility when the time comes. She already knows where she wants to go. She was able to take a tour, meet the staff....her oldest daughter who is only 8 years old wants to be there when she dies.
The visit wasn't all crying and wiping noses. In fact, she would give me a hard time about being sad saying, "I am not dying tomorrow!" It was hard to contain my grief, but that is not her burden to bare. We drank coffee and rambled through more day to day type conversation. She told me tomorrow she is quiting smoking....normally I would have said "good for you!" But it struck me as odd given everything else she has to deal with. I guess even dying people want to be as normal as possible to the very end.
I could tell she was getting tired and wanted to take a nap before her daughters returned home. I gave her a hug and hopefully we will be able to spend another visit together before she leaves this world.
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