May 7th- I Didn't Think It Would Be Friday

 

I joined JP in the sunroom, sitting on a love seat, cuddled in together. He laid his head on my shoulder as I silently cried. I remember feeling hurt that my Mom didn't want my help, kept asking me to go. 

I know better now. I didn't think it would be Friday. 

She screamed for help and Dan went running. He tried over and over again to help, to get her comfortable. She said it hurt too much. 

Situated at the opposite end of the hallway I could hear her telling him, " send Juli home. Tell her to go home." Dan told my Mom in the softest, sweetest tone, "I'm not the boss of her. Juli can do what she wants, Diane." She kept telling him to send me home. 

This time, I don't know why, and I wish I hadn't, but I listened. I obeyed. I granted her request and I packed up to leave. I sent Dan a text from where I was in the kitchen to him in Mom's room, "We'll leave. Love you guys."

It was 6:38pm. 

I didn't think it would be Friday. 

Somewhere along Rt 1 Dan called at 7:05pm. He said Mom agreed to an ambulance and to meet him at Kent. I finished the ride to take JP home so I could turn back around to the hospital. 

Dan called again. "Your Mom is in the ambulance, she's unresponsive." 

It was 7:28pm. 

I didn't think it would be Friday. 

Dan had called the ambulance and returned to my Mom. She was then speaking gibberish to him and he later told me he wished I could have helped him decipher what she was saying. He left her room once more to open the door in preparation for the paramedics. He took the pistons off the screen door. He propped it open with a flower pot on the front step. He propped the front door open on the inside. 

In the span of 30 seconds after that call I texted Evans an "I need you. NOW" message. I called my brother. I had JP pack a bag. I called his best bud's to say I was dropping him off. I Prayed. We met Evans in the driveway. He was already there. 

As Evans sped me out of Clayton, we were pulled over. I was hysterical, to say the least, in the passenger seat of his truck. After a short greeting of comrades and a wish for safe travels, Evans began to pull out. But my phone rang again from Dan. 

He had returned to her room and...

"She's gone. She's gone, Juli. She's gone." 

It was 7:37pm. 

May 7th- The Next Part

 

JP & I arrived at Gramma's faster than I've driven there before. 

Looking back, other than Dan's text "reading differently" I had no reason for alarm. Mom had an Infusion Treatment that morning, normal. She was tired, normal. She was in some pain, unfortunately somewhat normal. I think I thought I was there to assist Dan in getting Mom comfortable. Yes, that's what I thought. 

And, the bonus, to see my Mom and sit with her. 

I had to call Dan on his phone to unlock the back door for us (whilst I danced the potty dance). I could hear Mom telling him this was not a good time for me to visit and to send me home. I told him it was too late, I was already there. He agreed and said, "I'm not listening to her, I'm coming to unlock the door." Weird, but we both chuckled awkwardly at ignoring her orders. 

JP remained in the sunroom, I took off to the bathroom and when I emerged she said from down the hall that I shouldn't be there, I shouldn't see her like this. She insisted JP not see her in pain. I told her it was too late for me, JP was in the sunroom, and asked what I needed to do. She was uncomfortable, in pain, couldn't feel her legs or her arms, and said she felt like she was crawling out of her skin. It was heartbreaking. 

Over the next couple of hours Dan and I tried to find her comfort. Between medicine, water, pillows, props, bed raising, bed lowering, moving her legs for her, putting compression socks on, playing classical music, inhaling lavender, screaming, we three tried it all. Even a couple jokes here and there. She was so uncomfortable. She was in so much pain. 

I asked her about going to the hospital. She said there was nothing they could do there for her. I explained that they had more training and resources at their whim and could help. She told me, "only in an ambulance, NOT in any car." I agreed and asked if that meant to call for one now. She said, "not yet." 

She asked me a few more times over those hours to go home. Not nastily, not demanding. More so pleading with me that the kids must need me, or Evans could take me to dinner, or I could go home and relax. I blew her off every time. I ignored it. I wanted to be right where I was. 

We were able to convince her to let Dan call the Doctor at the hospital. The doctor discussed, what seemed to be to them, side effects of the Infusion that morning. They were a little surprised this was the first time she had felt side effects having been her fourth Infusion Treatment. But, nonetheless, they seemed to make it sound like, to our dismay, it was mostly normal. 

At some point, alone in her room with her, I took her hand. She said she could feel warmth but that was all. She asked for lotion. I massaged her hands as much as she could stand until the next bout of severe pain in her legs returned and I switched back to moving them to a folded position again. This leg trick was used every 2-4 minutes that afternoon. 

I held her hand again and placed it to my chest. I asked if she could feel my heartbeat. When she said she could not I told her we weren't going to move her hand around "for the chance of her feeling my boob." She grinned. 

I knelt down beside her bed with her hand to my chest. She looked at me kneeling and said, "OH GOOD! Are you going to Pray? Please Pray." I did just that. 

I had been silently Praying. And at some point in the hallway even sent out a desperate plea on Facebook for Prayers for Relief. I don't remember typing it. 

I laid my head on her bed and choked back tears. She couldn't see me cry. I couldn't let her see me cry. How could I? She was in pain, not me. A short time later she asked that I would leave the room for her to rest. "I can't rest with you in here, Jul." I thought maybe some medicine had kicked in. I obliged and left her room. 

May 7th- Early On

 

I was to be working remotely Friday from my Mom's. 

I had been there on Saturday morning to pick up a load of clothes she insisted be donated. 

I had been there Tuesday afternoon to thumb through some pictures and some paperwork she wanted to look through. 

Tuesday was hard. We encountered so many pictures that made us teary eyed, a few that made us giggle, and some paperwork that sparked some conversation. Not quite enough though. 

Mom cried telling me she just wanted more TIME. She didn't go in to detail, she didn't stay on that subject. Just that she wanted more timmmme. She emphasized the word. 

About an hour and a half into my visit she excused herself for the restroom. I helped her to her standing position and she used her walker from there. Several minutes later she called for me from the back and said she was just so tired. So very tired. As I helped her into bed she gave me instructions on finding some more pictures she thought I may want. She joked of the framed wedding photo she still had and said "you gave me such a big big picture." We chuckled over that. 

I continued looking through photo boxes and searched for the frame, to no avail. When Dan returned home from errands he joined me at the table and I showed him a few pictures I had set aside. He suddenly remembered he had been looking for something specific recently and asked me, "have you found a more recent photo of your Mom by herself?"

I choked back tears until I could reply, "I don't even want to know why you need one."

We both knew why. Neither of us could say the words. So we silently cried instead. 

I was to be working remotely Friday from my Mom's. I had told her I could come back down to go through some pictures again. She was scheduled for infusion in the morning and I would come join her at home late morning. 

Her appointment ran late. They had kept her waiting. When she returned home exhausted Dan was, at first, unable to get her inside from the garage. She couldn't walk, she couldn't stand, she was so weak. He said he may need my help getting her in to bed but he would try one more time. 

He later texted to tell me it wasn't a good day for the pictures. My original plan of going down had changed. 

I was due to visit the beach the next day for an overnight stay with the kids. The next text was  Dan saying "you may want to stop by on the way {to the beach} to see your Mom." 

The text read differently. JP & I left Smyrna immediately. 

Two Weeks Ago

Two weeks ago, I lost my Mom.

I’m completely heartbroken.

I have no idea how I’ve gotten to today.

I have no idea how I’ll get through tomorrow.

Preparing for my Mom’s Funeral tomorrow has been the most surreal, autopilot task I’ve ever completed.

This morning while, as my Mom would say, “puttsing around the house” I picked up one of her baskets on my cabinet to dust. It’s one basket that has never been filled. Not with knick knacks, plutos, kitchen supplies, snacks, blankets, flowers, jewelry, mail, keys, nothing.

It just sat empty.

THIS is what’s inside.

Mom, message received. I love you. I miss you.

I hope we have, and continue to, honor you.