On March 26, 2017 my mother lost her battle with cancer. I will never forget the day that the doctor informed us that my mother had cancer. By the year she was diagnosed in October of 2016 she was already in the fourth stage. My heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath before I inquired about her life expectancy. When the doctor informed me that it would be six months to a year I wanted to break down and cry. I couldn’t. She was right there. I had to be strong for her.
The cancer was progressing rapidly. My mom who was already a very small woman began to loose weight rapidly. Still she was a fighter. She woke up everyday and lived life. Just before Thanksgiving my mother was hospitalized. It was during that stay that the doctors told me that my mother was incapable of taking care of herself. She had two options, a nursing home or at home hospice care.
My mother refused the nursing home care and chose to move in with me. The hospital social workers and doctors tried to convince me to talk her into doing into an impatient hospice facility or nursing home. Instead I did what I felt was my responsibility as a daughter and moved my mother in to my home.
The transition was a difficult process for my mother. She lived independently since the age of eighteen years old. I had a full time work and school schedule along with a 5 and 3 year old. Life was busy. Still I did all that I could to keep my mother comfortable. Watching her decline was unbearable. I prayed endlessly. First I asked God to take away the cancer and heal her. Then I began asking God to end her pain. At one point I even asked God to take her up to heaven. I even begged my mother to stop fighting and let go.
I was tired of seeing her in pain. I was tired of the parade of nurses, home attendants and social workers in and out of my living space. I went through all of the stages of grief.
When my mom left me to claim her spot in heaven it was a Sunday evening. That weekend I invited her closest family members to come spend time with her so that they could say their goodbyes. I knew her life was coming to an end. My mom’s body began to shut down. She had no desire to eat food or drink liquids. I called up the nurse and asked her to come check my mother out. She confirmed what I already knew. My mother was end of life.
We arrived at the Haven Hospice Unit inside of Bellevue Hospital about 2:30p.m. I felt numb. I knew what was about to happen. I called my daughter to the hospital so she can bid her grandmother farewell.
A little after 9p.m. I stood by mother’s bedside. I turned on Take Me To The King by Tamela Mann and sang the entire song to my mother. When the song ended I kissed her and my mother took her last breath. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Caring for a loved one with cancer is very difficult. You are forced to watch your loved one disintegrate. I watched my mother who was strong and independent become weak and fragile. It hurt me to see her in pain and not be able to do anything to help her. Every time I came into my home I feared that I would go into her room and discover the worst.
I am thankful that I was able to be there for her. I am blessed to have been there to care for her as a way of thanking her for giving me life. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about my angel.