A Cancer Journey: Part 2

Week 2

I have learned the basics of ostimy care.  Although emptying the bag is no problem, changing it has me second guessing every step.  Between Sissy and I, we have emptied Mom's ostimy bag 14 times in a 24 hour period.  Mom is exhausted.  We are exhausted.  By mid-week, her stool has turned almost black.  We have been told that she may have an upper GI bleed.  If that is the case, we should be prepared that she will go quickly.

Overall, this has been a good week for Mom.  She has been very lucid and has a good appetite.  She has requested scrambled eggs a few times and reminds me how she likes them!  At 5 am on Wednesday, she looked at me and said, "Please get a piece of paper and a pen.  I want to plan my funeral."  She then proceeded to pick the readings and music and shared who she wanted to do what for the Mass.  She does not want a lot of flowers, because she doesn't want to be "showboated" (those were her exact words).  For that same reason, she does not want picture boards.  Instead, she is o.k. with a few family photos and she wants memorials to be used toward the Mary Garden at our church.

What was believed to be a GI bleed has corrected itself by weeks end.  Her stoma has now become infected and the skin around it is raised and red and hot to the touch.

Aside from funeral planning, the week was filled with lots of stories and much laughter.  It was as though we had our Mom back, and yet the harsh reality is that our time together is fleeting.  I am very much aware that each day, each moment is gift.

Week 3

The week began with Mother's Day.  Sissy came and stayed with Mom, while our family attended Mass.  I knew today would be bittersweet, but I didn't expect Mass to be so emotional for me.  From the music, to the prayers and culminating at the Eucharist, I cried.  I cried not only for the beauty of this celebration, but also for the heaviness weighing on my heart.  This would be the last Mother's Day that we would be spending with Mom.

My Brother-in-law planned a brunch at our house for all the family.  Mom had a few bites of egg bake, cinnamon roll and fruit.  She felt up to visiting for most of the afternoon.  Today was the last great day that Mom had.

Mom is now sleeping more than she is awake.  She groans when we move her to change her sheets or chuck or to reposition her pillow.  She reaches out in front of her for something or someone only she can see.  She has stopped eating and only takes a few sips of water with her medication.

In a way, the dying process has slowed time.  We can close the door to the outside world and simply just "be" with Mom.  Every touch, every care, every breath has become holy.  Her room has become a sanctuary of prayer and reflection.  Upon entering, there is an immediate sense of this being a sacred place; a place where life and death are merging.