It's funny the things that happen in your
life when you face the impending death of a close family member…and the things
you're suddenly unwilling to put up with, or oddly enough, will tolerate that
you wouldn't in the past.
My mother was diagnosed with gallbladder cancer
in January 2016, but had successful surgeries, a full spring and summer of
chemotherapy, and was told August 2016 that she was in the clear. We were
thrilled! Throughout the fall she continued to be tired, and never really got
her energy levels back up, but it made sense given the chemo and surgeries/recovery
times throughout the year. Unfortunately, at her 6 month CT follow up, they
determined that the cancer was back, and more aggressive than previously. What
came after that was jaundice, liver issues, stents, tubes, round after round of
antibiotics and hospital admittances, finally rounded out with a terminal
diagnosis on May 17, 2017.
There's not much to be said for the wave
that sweeps over you when that final diagnosis is delivered. Despite any
optimism, any denial you may have allowed yourself, the revelation that there
is nothing more they can do to halt the spread of the cancer is something
world-shattering and final.
My mother and I have had a difficult
relationship at the best of times, and we've always had trouble communicating
effectively. Two dominant personalities, in a family full of upheaval,
struggling to be right – and it doesn't help that I am so very much like her.
We clash frequently and furiously. There have been numerous occasions in my
adult life that I've questioned whether she even likes me, and whether I like
her (like and love do not have to exist together, let me tell you…family is a
special sort of insanity). There were times when I simply could not comprehend
her motivations or decisions on things in our lives, and she's had the same
issues understanding me I know. Even when we've had lulls where we got along,
there has always been tension and almost a palpable sense of waiting for the
other shoe to drop; an acknowledgement that the truce is temporary, that we
know around the corner another battle is brewing. All that aside, she's my mom,
and now I'm facing life without her far FAR too early in my life.
It doesn't matter how old you are, when
there are things in life you haven't gotten to experience yet, you think of
your mother as part of those future experiences or plans. Every time I think of my future now, I see a hole, and feel the loss already. I know she's
envisioned things that she now won't see in my life as well. She's gotten to
see the engagement of 2 sons, and the birth of 2 grandchildren, which is
wonderful…but it's never enough. She'll never see me get married, she'll never see me have my own children, help me decorate a new home, any of those things that we've talked about in the past.
I always thought by 35 I'd be married, and
hopefully well on my way to starting my own family. Here I am a month away from
that milestone, and instead, I'm trying to determine how to tackle things like
going through my mother's sewing supplies and thinking about china figurines
and cabinets and what should go to people. I still haven't met the man who'll
walk through life with me, and stand by in times like these; instead I have a
wonderful group of friends who call me to check up on things, and let me know
they love me daily. The outpouring of love and support from people in my life
has been tremendous. It doesn't matter how long I've known people, a month, a
year, decades – for the most part, everyone has gone out of their way to show
support and send good thoughts our way.
Then there's the minority, the few who are
so entrenched in their own world and the belief that they are the center of
everyone's lives, the ones who can't see past their own pain, ignorance, or
internal narrative. People in this category relate to me the horrors of
watching their own parent/friend/relative die, all in vivid detail, the
entire time missing the cues that this isn't something I need to hear. And at
the same time, it's almost a relief not to have them ask how I am, and ask the
details of what my family and I are grappling with. There's almost a grisly
fascination for people to hear every aspect, to dig into the meat of things...and
an incomprehension of the idea that it's not something I want to talk about
constantly. It's one thing for friends I trust who care about me to inquire,
but people I scarcely know who find out something is going on, seem to not realize that there are
boundaries, that I'm already grieving someone who hasn't gone yet. People seem
to forget that your suffering isn't public property, that just because you're
at the office, or out in public and appear ok on the surface, doesn't mean you
actually are. There's also the people who flat out don't understand that at a
time like this, I might not ask for help even if I need it, that when someone
is a part of my life they need to actually be a part of it, or sod off. I've
ended a decades long friendship in the last 2 months because I'm no longer
willing to chase people down. If I'm important enough to be in your life, I
deserve more than the occasional Facebook check in during the darkest days I've
experienced. I realize that it's a confusing back and forth, but anyone who's
ever gone through something like this will understand…I'm not necessarily in
control of how I feel or what I need from people right now, despite my best
efforts to maintain my precious balance and control. In line with that, despite wishing it would all go away, sometimes I desperately need to talk it all out (that's less common mind you), and end up going down the rabbit hole a bit. The key here is those
who haven't walked this road get it anyways, and all of my friends quite frankly rock for putting up with me these days. Friends truly are the family you
get to choose.
A lot of the time I just want to pretend
that life is normal and my next worry is what to wear for my birthday party next
month. That the big concern is learning the techniques for my new hobbies, like
the best way to hold a pitchfork, or how to throw a stone. I want things to be
simple and they're not. I want to be planning a fishing trip, instead of reading
up on the hospice that my mother will spend her last days in.
I'm sorry for the times that I've been flakey
or distant, bitchy or aggressive, any of the less than desirable traits I've
exhibited in the last couple of months…the last couple of weeks in particular.
Know that I love you all and appreciate what you bring into my life and the care
and support that I've received, and continue to receive.
I know that this is going to pass, and it's
just another phase in life…I'm just not sure what the other end is going to
look like…
