All stories have a beginning, I guess my flaw with this blog was that I started in the middle and I've realized that you cant jump into the middle of the movie and get what is going on so you can't blog like that either.
I started this primarily for myself but I would like to also give others some sort of insight into why Im this angry little peacock of a woman. I think a lot of "things" need to make a woman an angry woman. I try not to be but if I face the facts, I am outspoken, wild, non apologetic - most of the time and resilient. If I look at the woman I would like to be like, it would be my grandma- her motto is never gossip- but really how is that possible and where is the line between gossip and venting or discussion...its a fine line and it takes an art to get it down because sometimes we can't keep our mouths shut! It's natural to be angry but it's not natural to bear the reasons behind it. This is painful and embarrassing or really just the fact that you are metaphorically naked for the world to see. Who likes that?
So here it is on the line....
About 5 years ago, my mom told me to find another job...WHAT?? breaks. stop the record. She saw that I was unhappy and needed some separation not from my job but probably from her AND she needed it from me too. So I was angry with her and we didnt talk for about 5 months on and off here and there but didnt talk. In a lot of ways I feel like I was her confidant, I knew all her secrets and cared for her. My mother was a woman that everyone loved. She bent over backwards for everyone and pleasantly came in last place in a lot of ways because she wanted her friends and family to win. She was a woman who kept our extremely large family together for reunions or Holidays and kept them all laughing. She was my grandmothers support and did everything for her. I always felt she did too much and that people took advantage of her and it made me angry because she NEVER said anything. She was a quiet one, but when she blew she blew. Its funny now but scary at the time :) One thing that I knew everyone loved her.
In 2006, the day after Thanksgiving, she had some pain. Well not some pain a lot of pain. She went from doctor to doctor telling her she was crazy. She was sick, down for the count. I didn't think much of it because she was resilient. On my 23rd birthday, I took her to yet another doctor probably the 10th or 11th and she wanted to sleep in the car because she couldn't sit down in the chair, it hurt to bad. The receptionist told her that if she sits in the car and misses her appointment, then she was out of luck. I walked my mom to her car, and she asked me not to leave her. She was scared. I told her I had to go sit inside and wait for the doctor. She said okay. I went into the waiting room and called my dad, told him what had transpired. The receptionist stopped my phone call and rudely stated " If she is SO sick then she should just go to the hospital" I stopped my phone call with my dad and stood up and told that snide angry woman, "this is where the hospital told us to come" probably yelling more than talking. "I continued to tell her to mind her business and worry about her job and not the sick woman crying in the car" Bitoch got my point sat down and played with her paperwork. We finally saw the doctor. My mom gave him the bowl of blood clots she had collected from her body. At that point he said he would not exam her and that she needed to get to the hospital immediately. I took my mom to the hospital, called my brother and had to leave her there to go back to work. Once my brother came I left. She got a diagnosis of Intrasticamitis. I simple infection which needs anti biotics. Ok good. Nothing to worry about. My aunt, a midwife and nurse practitioner decided to take matters into her own hands. She did an exam and found a tumor in her cervix. A tumor the size of of a grapefruit. Cancer. She had cervical cancer. My worry set in but we were assured by a well known best in the biz AZ cancer doctor that she was stage one 1b...good a 90% survival rate. People survive cancer all the time. No worries, a little chemo and back to work. Good.
Days went on and she was still in pain. My heart softened for her. I sat on her bed and brushed her hair. I was going braid it. She cried a little and I cried. When I was little she brushed my hair. I would scream and cry in pain, I would pull it out and make her do it again and now, It was my turn, she cried but didnt ask me to do it again. I sniffled silently. I said to her "Your not going to die mom, dont worry" She cried and cried and through her sobs, she blurted out "I know I am not". I am not sure at that point if she was scared for herself or for her children who thought that their mother was going to die. She was only 45 years old.
Christmas came and she couldn't get out of bed. We all forced her to because I ran around for the previous two weeks to buy all the presents so this Christmas would be special. Instead of us going to everyone else's house, they came to ours. Something that has been a rare occurrence in my 23 years. I thought this was a little weird. Especially when uncle Gaylord came. Something was up. Was I blind or just oblivious...maybe a little of both. a few days later she went back to the hospital. She was very sick. It was New Years now. My mom told me to go out with my friends. I got dressed and was not ready to party but went out instead. We sat at some bar and watched the fireworks. As I watched them pop in the sky, I cried because she was watching them from a hospital bed. I didn't like the way the nurses treated her at this hospital. They would force her to get up and leave needles in her arms. She was scared. Two weeks she spent there. Then she got to come home. My daily routine stayed the same but when I got home, I would fall apart.
Time went on and went fast. I was tired and pushing it. My family insisted that I stay in school. I had 7 classes that semester. And so I did. I was sitting in a woman's awareness class and my brother called me...it had to be January or something and he said its stage 3b. I asked him what that meant and he said "50% survival rate" I told him I had to go. I sat in class and wet hot tears streamed down my face. But still I was confident that it would be okay. My schedule remained the same. School, work, school, hospital, homework. I would sit at work with my I pod on. My bosses were kind to me. My anxiety levels were heightened and I wasn't sleeping but pushed through. A few days after this, she went to stay at my grandma's house. My brother went to visit her and her blood pressure was so low. My family called the doctor and he said to take her to the hospital. Come to find out that 3 days earlier, she had tested positive for a blood infection. The doctor said it was a mistake but obviously it wasn't. She was back in the hospital. The ICU. I was so mad at that doctor, he is really really happy that he never had to meet me. I was sick, so at first I couldn't visit her. But when I was well enough, I dressed in the gear and went in to see her. We had to be completely covered and couldn't touch her. She was so swollen and sick. She would retain 60 pounds of water weight and then loose it. It was horrible. She was in this coma for two weeks or so. Finally she woke up and was able to move into a room.
January 31st 2007, My cousin gave birth to a little girl. Kadence. I went to see her. Immediately I loved this little girl. We took pictures, I printed them out and took them to my mom. She was in a coma like state and I knew this would wake her up. I went into the room and told her "mom Kadence was born" She opened her eyes and said "Kadence" smiled and went back to sleep. My mind was at ease. "Good" I thought. Life, life is good.
It was Valentine's Day. I wrote her a card. When I came in she asked for a hug. I hesitated at first because we are not huggers. I didn't want to because if she is asking for a hug, I knew it had to be serious. I was still at this point optimistic that she would be okay. We would sit then leave sit and leave. I once walked in and she was suspended in a sling from the ceiling to get her blood flowing. It disgusted me. HOW SAD for her. She couldn't move or control her body. I wanted her to fight but you could see it on her face, she was tired. A little worry started to come in when she couldn't remember her computer passwords. She was so mad at herself. I reassured her it would be okay. She was finally able to get a PET scan. That day when I came, I heard my brother crying I walked in and asked him what happened, he told me I had to go and talk to mom. He said he was scared. I told him I would take care of it. As I walked down the hall, I looked at the pictures and saw a sea of my family there. A lot of them. In my mind I thought "what the hell is going on?!" I walked in and my dad was crying and so was my older brother. My dad blurted it out. 5 years, that is what she had. 5 years. I was not satisfied with this. I looked at my brother and screamed. I made her promise to fight, I cried, I threw her food- her ensure. I cried and cried. My aunt walked in the room and my told me I had to talk to her. I told them I didnt want to talk but she made me. As I walked out of the room, I saw my families faces. All of them were red and hot, tears streaming down their face. I looked at all of them. Hurting for me, for themselves and for her. I don't remember what my aunt said to me but it was unacceptable.
She took me to a hospice that night. I didn't understand why we were there. This is where people go to die, every person in here was old. She brought me to her room. I didn't get it, why would we bring her here?! "This is her bed, so comfortable, this is her phone, this is her bathroom, do you see how big it is and nice?" I stood in the bathroom. looked around. "I don't want to bring her here. I don't get it, I don't get it" She held me and we cried.
They transported her there. She fell asleep. There was so much going on in the world and it all stopped. We would sit in there. 20 of us. The next five days were a blur. I would sit by her bed and remind her to breath. Every 10 seconds "breath mom" And she would. This was sign to me, she could here me and she promised me she would fight. The 21st, I was tired. I wanted to go and sleep. My brothers asked me to stay because they all thought something would happen. I told them it would be fine. The next morning my dad called me and told me to get down there. I got there in 7 minutes and started running. I saw my brother standing outside. I screamed "did I miss it? is she gone? is she gone?" He looked at me and nodded his head, I fell to the ground and cried. He cried. The nurses came and helped me up or checked my blood pressure who knows. I went into the room and hugged her. Her body was there but her spirit was gone. I didn't want to leave. I went outside and texted a few friends. A sat there all of the sudden lost, confused, sad so sad and angry.
My family says that before she took her last breath, she opened her eyes and said "Rhea". Rhea is my great grandmother who died 4 years ago on that exact day. She was there to bring her home.
So there is the story of the end of her life. The next part will have to wait. 4 years it has been and still it hurts....sometimes it feels like forever and sometimes it feels like just yesterday.... Now let the grieving process begin a sneak peak....
The next nine months are a blur, we planned the funeral, chose the headstone, and laid her to rest. As her life ended and her body rested, mine started to spiral out. In most aspects, I kept it together but at night it was a different story. I started to seem crazy. But it was easier for me at that time to allow people to think I was crazy for one reason rather than let them see what was really bothering me....
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