I'm forcing myself to stay awake tonight because I'm too scared to go to sleep. I can't stop counting her respirations,* especially when she goes from these deep, rhythmic inhalations to... nothing. Right before I lean over to do a sternal rub on her, she takes a deep breath in, which, thank God, allows me to exhale a deep sigh of relief. Does sternal rub count as a form of resuscitation?
Anyway, to occupy my mind, I've been reflecting back on what these last three weeks have taught me. Sorry, guys, per usual, I am going to be brutally honest. Love me or hate me, whatever.
1) According to my mother, I am not a real nurse. This was brought to my attention a couple of weeks ago while I was bathing her.**
2) Time of death, like time of birth, cannot be predicted. We were told by her doctors that she had only "a couple of weeks." That was three and a half weeks ago. I'm not complaining, but with each new day, it is getting more difficult to see her like this.
3) This has been the most difficult patient assignment I have ever been given. Maybe it's because she is not a "patient" and I'm not really her nurse. But as a nurse, and as her daughter, I can't stand back and let anyone else care for her (except for my niece Aimee, who has been incredible, and my sister Andrea). That said, this has also been the most rewarding assignment I have ever encountered... Mom thinks I'm really good at it.
4) This sucks.
5) In the beginning, I underestimated how evil cancer actually is. Mom was doing so well for so long that I actually thought she was going to be a medical miracle and beat it. WRONG!! This evil parasite has reduced my mother to skin and bones. It has eaten away at her body and her spirit. Her eyes are now vacant and her body is slowly withering away into a vessel that, at one time, held her soul. I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy.
WOW, THIS SHIT IS GETTING DEEEPRESSING. Let's lighten things up a bit, shall we?
6) After this experience, dying in a plane crash—my biggest fear—seems like a trip to Disneyland... on shrooms (providing you're not the paranoid type).***
7)Vancouver Island is God's garden, which would explain all the rain it gets. But it seems to me that God is too busy watering his flower beds to answer prayers.****Ooops, probably shouldn't have just typed that, but considering anger is part of the grieving process, I think I'm permitted at least one blasphemous comment.
8) I could really get into running again—okay, jogging... okay, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in a pace that is slightly faster than a walk— if it weren't for the feeling that my ass, stomach and breasts are being ripped away from my body with each painful step. Oh, and then there's the weather. Jogging here is pleasant. Jogging in Austin is like running through hell in a snowsuit.
9) In times of need, family can be just what you need... but they can also drive you bat-shit-crazy!
10) If it weren't for all my friends, there is no way in hell I could have ever endured this without pharmacological help, which reminds me...
Oh, yeah, and sibs? Providing there's any left, I've also got dibs on these...
*Imagine that... a nurse actually counting respirations!
**This wasn't a George Costanza sponge bath moment, so get your mind out of the gutter!
***Realizing I still have to get home via air travel, I would like to retract this statement. I am not putting it out in the universe that a plane crash would be fun, and given the next footnote, God is probably pissed at me.
**** Sorry, God, I didn't mean to offend you. The flowers here are absolutely beautiful. Good job! Too bad my mother looks like she needs some watering and some good nutrients, but whatever!
Anyway, to occupy my mind, I've been reflecting back on what these last three weeks have taught me. Sorry, guys, per usual, I am going to be brutally honest. Love me or hate me, whatever.
1) According to my mother, I am not a real nurse. This was brought to my attention a couple of weeks ago while I was bathing her.**
Mom: You are so good at this, Rachel. You should have become a real nurse.
Me: Mom, I am a real nurse, but thanks just the same.
Mom: Ohhh, that's not what I meant. You should be taking care of sick people.I felt it futile to go into detail about how women in labor can be just as demanding (and with good reason) as any sick patient can be. All that matters, though, is that Mom thinks I'm good at this.
2) Time of death, like time of birth, cannot be predicted. We were told by her doctors that she had only "a couple of weeks." That was three and a half weeks ago. I'm not complaining, but with each new day, it is getting more difficult to see her like this.
3) This has been the most difficult patient assignment I have ever been given. Maybe it's because she is not a "patient" and I'm not really her nurse. But as a nurse, and as her daughter, I can't stand back and let anyone else care for her (except for my niece Aimee, who has been incredible, and my sister Andrea). That said, this has also been the most rewarding assignment I have ever encountered... Mom thinks I'm really good at it.
4) This sucks.
5) In the beginning, I underestimated how evil cancer actually is. Mom was doing so well for so long that I actually thought she was going to be a medical miracle and beat it. WRONG!! This evil parasite has reduced my mother to skin and bones. It has eaten away at her body and her spirit. Her eyes are now vacant and her body is slowly withering away into a vessel that, at one time, held her soul. I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy.
WOW, THIS SHIT IS GETTING DEEEPRESSING. Let's lighten things up a bit, shall we?
6) After this experience, dying in a plane crash—my biggest fear—seems like a trip to Disneyland... on shrooms (providing you're not the paranoid type).***
7)Vancouver Island is God's garden, which would explain all the rain it gets. But it seems to me that God is too busy watering his flower beds to answer prayers.****Ooops, probably shouldn't have just typed that, but considering anger is part of the grieving process, I think I'm permitted at least one blasphemous comment.
8) I could really get into running again—okay, jogging... okay, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in a pace that is slightly faster than a walk— if it weren't for the feeling that my ass, stomach and breasts are being ripped away from my body with each painful step. Oh, and then there's the weather. Jogging here is pleasant. Jogging in Austin is like running through hell in a snowsuit.
9) In times of need, family can be just what you need... but they can also drive you bat-shit-crazy!
10) If it weren't for all my friends, there is no way in hell I could have ever endured this without pharmacological help, which reminds me...
Last week, Mom encouraged us to start thinking about things of hers we want. I can't really take too much stuff back home due to luggage restrictions, so I'm keeping it simple by only taking things that are really important to me. I've stashed away some of her writing, poems and old photographs of her. She was absolutely stunningly beautiful. Like, movie-star-beautiful!
Oh, yeah, and sibs? Providing there's any left, I've also got dibs on these...
*Imagine that... a nurse actually counting respirations!
**This wasn't a George Costanza sponge bath moment, so get your mind out of the gutter!
***Realizing I still have to get home via air travel, I would like to retract this statement. I am not putting it out in the universe that a plane crash would be fun, and given the next footnote, God is probably pissed at me.
**** Sorry, God, I didn't mean to offend you. The flowers here are absolutely beautiful. Good job! Too bad my mother looks like she needs some watering and some good nutrients, but whatever!
9 comments:
Rach- your humor is what is going to get you through this. You make me laugh and cry. I think your mom was saying that ICU/CRNA school was best for you. Time to change things up a bit. Just saying....
I agree with Sally. I can't imagine what your humor writing is like when you are fully on your game.
Once again, I keep reading even though I should be in bed. What you are writing about is such a sad situation but you search for humour in it and thus describe the situation in such a way as to make others reading it feel better; you've got talent girl; I wish I could write the way you do. I think Sally has a great idea regarding CRNA school, although I think I'd still give writing some thought; your talent is unique; between your ability to write combined with your dry, quick wit you are fabulous. James just got up with a smelly present in his pants, so farewell my friend, Miss you and love you much; we all look forward to having you back with us at home.
I love you guys; you sure can make a girl feel good in a time of need. Mom has opened her eyes and smiled at us a couple of times today. She is not in pain, and I honestly believe that she will go when she is ready. When that time comes, I have no doubt in my mind that she will go in peace.
Thanks for appreciating my sick, twisted sense of humor.
Rxo
Back in college, I worked in the neuro-surgical ICU and the nurses there had the most insane, sick senses of humor. Think it comes with the job description. But lo, you can write it all so well.
I'm just so sorry you have to go through this. I know none of us get out of this gig without a few kicks to the face, but this one is just...oy. I'm so sorry. Love to you and your mama.
Rachel, you are a beautiful soul. Three years ago I held my Dad's hand the day he left as he said, "You and Mother carry on... I have to go."
Incidentally, parents often underestimate their kids. When I read the bit about "...you should have become a real nurse..." it reminded me of a day not so long ago that my Mom said out loud for the whole world to hear, something quite similar that I will keep private for now. Suffice it to say, I know exactly where you are at this moment.
Keep the faith, and your spirit. :)
Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion (stole that quote from steel magnolias, just in case you didn't recognize it). I read this while at work so I was trying very hard to not let the waterworks flow, I just keep thinking how unbelieveably hard this must be....then you put the humor and I was lol with watery eyes....love ya rach, your in my prayers!!!! p.s My biggest fear is also crashing in a plane,therefore when I just flew to michigan I got gooch to prescribe me a few valium to cut the edge off. Apparently I need to be damn near knocked out though when going through turbulance. So I suggest valium and alcohol for the flight!!!!
And then, the nurse at me reads the rx bottle... the Dilaudid 4mg says 1-3 PRN... HOLY COW!
Thinking about you tons right now... you are an incredible person, in and out, and your mother cant be anything but proud... even if you aren't a "real" nurse! Unselfishly, I think you'd make a great CRNA... selfishly, I love you where you are ;)
Maybe you will want to place a facebook icon to your site. Just bookmarked this site, but I must make it by hand. Just my 2 cents.
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