This post is going to be a hard one to write about... It's not easy seeing your mom suffer and knowing that unless God has a miracle in the works, I'm going to lose her.
At the end of April, mom started complaining about a slight headache. She then started having a bit of facial paralysis (the right side of her face/cheek were tingly like after going to the dentist). She got an appointment to see her doctor - thinking it was early signs of a stroke. The doctor assumed so too, but he had her get a CT scan to be sure. What he saw in the scan was a large tumor behind her right eye. She and my dad traveled to SLC to see a neurosurgeon who said the tumor needed to come out and they would then test it to see if it was cancerous. On Thursday, May 14th, dad drove mom up to my place to stay the night. Dad wasn't sure which roads to take to get to my house and assumed mom could direct him. She couldn't. Dad called us to get directions and once they arrived, my heart broke in half. My mom wasn't the same person I had seen just 2 weeks prior. She couldn't walk. We had to wheelchair her into the house and then to the couch. Dad had said she had fallen 4 out of the last 5 days of being home. She'd get too dizzy and lose her balance. It even felt like my mom's mental capacity had changed as well. She was different. Not the same. Her body was dying...
The next day, I drove mom and dad to the U of U Hospital to have brain surgery. We got there early in the morning around 4:45 am. I was massaging mom's shoulders as she sat in the waiting room. She looked up at me and asked if I'd ever worked in a long-term care facility. I paused for a moment, waiting for her to give me a wink or smile, but she didn't. I then said, "No... I've only been a teacher." She nodded, stared forward, then said, "I guess, in a way, that's long term care." After a long pause, I bent down and said, "Mom, were you just kidding when you asked me that?" She replied, "No... I really wanted to know."
Mom got prepped for surgery. When we told Dr. Cauldwell of Mom's quick decline, he got a worried look on his face, checked her eyes, then wheeled her off to surgery... but not before mom asking him if she could continue her bull riding once this was all over. LOL.
It was a long 6 hour wait... Dad tried to sleep some, but I couldn't. Tyler called me and we both cried on the phone together. We both agreed our mom was one in a million and reminisced of some pretty gold times from when we were little.
After the surgery was over, dad and I were allowed in her ICU room.
She sported quite the shiner and over 40 staples to her scalp.
The doctors explained that mom's tumor had grown 2 centimeters in diameter in the last week. It was also hemorrhaging. They also informed us they weren't able to get it all... Her tumor was attached to a spot in her head that had many nerves running through it. They don't mess with that area...
Mom was on the road to healing. She tried to watch a bit of the Utah Jazz game.
She enjoyed her meals.
She tried to stay upbeat by charming all the nurses with her jokes, flirting with Frank the nutritionist to get extra desserts, and having scriptures read to her.
My dad was right there by Mom's side through it all. He had to go home every few days to work the farm but then traveled right back up. Mom had a few set backs that kept her in the hospital. She had to go in for ANOTHER 5 hour long brain surgery because spinal fluid was dripping from her nose. They took belly fat and plugged up her sinus area. Having to start the healing process all over again was ROUGH to say the least. She also developed blood clots in her left leg and had a filter put in so the clots couldn't get to her heart.
Then the night came when Dr. Cauldwell came in at 8pm to give us word that mom's tumor was indeed cancerous. He explained the cancer team would come in soon and present options for what lay ahead. After the doctor left, I sobbed... Cancer is a thief. It has robbed so much from me already, and now it was taking away my mom!! Mom didn't cry. She was sad, but she didn't cry. She didn't want to hurt her head by crying. I stayed past visiting hours and on my drive home, late at night, I had a good talk with God. I didn't want to at first. I wanted to stay numb from the news... to block it all out of my mind. But I turned off the radio and started to pray out loud:
Me: Why?! Why, Heavenly Father? Why are you taking my mom???
He answered: I have a GREAT work for her to do.
Me: But I need her. My dad needs her. Her grandchildren need her. We all need her here.
God: I know, but I need her more.
Me: Okay... then I'll let you have her, but can you promise me one thing? That when I need to, I'll always be able to feel my mom's love?
God: Deal on.
After 2 weeks in and out of the ICU at the U of U Hospital, mom got moved to the rehab wing at the Gunnison Valley Hospital. She spent one week there and was able to come home. Dad has helped her get out of bed when she doesn't want to. He's helped her do her physical therapy routines. He's followed her around the house as she does her walking routine: from her bed to the living room door to the garage door and back to her bed. Amber and I deep cleaned mom's room before she got home so she'd have a comfortable place to be in. I made my mom a check list for her to cross off each time she does her PT, OT, and breathing exercises. We put a few "fun" things on her to do list as well like practice the piano. I left Gunnison on Tuesday June 7th and she had sat at her piano for the first time in over a month playing a song, albeit a song she wants sung at her funeral.
We all agree that if Mom hadn't received the brain surgery, she would have died within only a few short days. That's how fast she was going downhill... After surgery, we thought she might have a month left. But as she's continued to improve, that amount of time she has left keeps getting prolonged in our minds - maybe we've got this summer with her...maybe even one year...maybe more... Who knows... maybe the radiation can give her even longer than that... One thing I know for sure is that I don't want to see my mom suffer more than necessary. If/when that time comes, I may need to have another good talk with God.
