Things I've Learned From this Process

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.**

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!

A Letter to Alisha/Samies

Hey Leesh,

What up, A-cat? That's me trying to sound really cool for you 'cause I know you don't want to hear any of my sappy crap. I will try to tailor this letter just for you, but forgive me if I let my emotions get the best of me...

Holy shit, my little samie, I can't believe it's been a year. I am floored at how quickly it's gone by, considering that the day you left us, it felt like our world had stopped in its tracks and would never again resume to normal.

The truth is, Alisha, life goes on—regardless of how much we want the rest of the world to stop and acknowledge how empty this life is without you, people continue living. Mothertruckers. Unfortunately, and I guess fortunately, so must we. Believe me, if I were Queen of The World, this day would be dedicated to you, and people would be forced to take the day off to watch back to back episodes of Entourage and Dexter while curled up with their pups.

So, here we are, a year later, and I am only just now getting to the point where thinking about you no longer sends me in to a fit of uncontrollable sobs. Instead, when I think of you, I am flooded with memories of your infectious laugh, your beautiful smile, and your infinite wit. I think about what a beautiful, fun-spirited, and smart woman you were, and it makes me smile. I think this is a good thing—something about the whole acceptance thing on the grief cycle.

The truth is, I think we are all beginning to heal, bit by bit, and I know that this is what you would have wanted for us. It's weird how, at first, I didn't want to let go of the pain because, by doing so, it suggested that I didn't love you as much as I thought, or I was somehow letting the memory of you fade. I now know that this is just a messed up way to think because no amount of time or healing could ever erase the memory of you and how much you meant to us.

We will never forget you, Alisha.

Missing you,

Auntie Rachel

Samies

(written for Alisha shortly after she passed). 

Over the last year, my family and I have slowly come to terms with saying goodbye to someone whom we love very dearly. The last six months, especially, have been physically and emotionally draining. But despite the pain and sorrow from having watched someone I love suffer, I can't help but feel blessed for having had the opportunity to spend some quality time with her and my family. People who lose loved ones at a moment's notice are not as fortunate. The best thing I have gained from all of this is that I know, without a doubt in my mind, when Alisha said goodbye to us, she knew how much we loved her, how much we'd miss her, and how much she had enriched each of our lives.

When reflecting back on Alisha's life, there are certain moments that even at the time, for some reason or another, had left a huge impression on me. I now know why they did; it all makes sense...

Alisha always loved visiting my parents on Vancouver Island. She started visiting the island regularly after my parents had moved there, sometime around her 13th birthday and shortly after she was diagnosed with diabetes. Many times she and her twin sister, Aimee, would make a trip out to the island for summer break. But one summer, after missing a great deal of school as a result of her illness, Alisha visited my parents by herself. Aimee spent her summer back home with the friends she had acquired during the school year. Since Alisha had missed so much school, her circle of friends, for a short time, consisted of a tiny few. I think she saw Vancouver Island as a place where she was not defined by her illness. It was the one place where Alisha did not have to prove her popularity or pretend she was someone she was not. Instead, she settled comfortably, in amongst the retired, greyed-haired, 60yrs + demographic that resides there.

During this particular summer, Alisha had become friends with a young girl closer to her own age. I remember talking to her on the phone and being so happy about her elation over her newfound friend. At some point during the conversation, she went from being very whimsical to being serious and inquisitive. In a very serious tone, she asked, "Aunty Rachel, do you know how to submit a new word into the dictionary?"

After giving her question some thought, I responded, "No, why?"

"Well, I just think that (insert random name of new best friend because I can't remember it) and I are what you'd consider samies."

"I'm sorry, Alisha, but I guess I don't quite understand."

"Well, (name of friend) and I have so much in common: we like the same music, we watch the same shows, we share the same clothes," she went on to explain, annoyed that she had to put the word into context for me to understand it, "we are so much alike that we are 'samies'."

"Ahhh, I get it. Well, I can't say I know how to get a word into the dictionary, but I think 'samies' is worthy of a formal definition. I like it."

I have since googled samies and found it in the urban dictionary. I would like to think it was Alisha who coined this word, but who knows.

Years before this conversation, when Alisha was much younger, she was given a school assignment for which she had to describe her feelings according to certain colors. The first part of the poem was pretty generic: I am white, I feel peaceful...I am red, I feel love...I am blue, I feel cold. It was the last sentence of the prose, however, that left a huge impression on me:

I am midnight black, like a runaway train, so don't mess with me, boys, because here I come...

After reading this, I remember being a little disturbed that someone so young could think so profoundly. I also remember thinking that she had some serious poetic talent.

Over the years, Alisha continued to amaze me with the things she had said and done. I could go on and on. But suffice it to say that there is nothing like being a grown adult—at rift with your family over something stupid—and receiving a "group" email from your adolescent niece, telling all parties to "grow up and get over yourselves; I am sick of all the fighting" to make you realize that age does not necessarily equal maturity or wisdom.

I guess the point I am trying to make is this: Alisha, during many times in her life, seemed wise beyond her years, and maybe this is why she found comfort in being on the island, surrounded by people who were 50 years her senior. Or, perhaps, this is just my way of trying to make sense of why someone so young could be taken from us way too soon, but I would like to think that Alisha has moved on to a better place because this world had nothing left to offer her.

During the month preceding her passing, I had some very candid conversations with Alisha about death. She openly discussed her beliefs and conveyed to me that she was not scared. The only thing she worried about was how we, her family, were going to cope after she had passed. She also wanted to bring closure to certain strained relationships; not for herself, but more for the other people involved, so they would not feel guilty after she was gone.

Despite the pain she suffered, Alisha handled her passing with such grace, courage and dignity. Alisha embodied the color white when she left us: she was at peace.

As for me, I go from being sad, to angry, then back to sad. There are days when I feel like I am midnight black—like that runaway train—and the only thing that brings me back to white is knowing that one day when I, too, am taken from this world, I have an incredibly amazing person waiting to greet me on the other side. When that day comes, the best that I can hope for is to leave this earth a more evolved person from who I am today—a person more like Alisha. That way, when Alisha and I meet again, we will be reunited not only as kindred spirits, but more importantly...

As samies.