I started grieving the loss of my mom long before she made the decision to go on hospice. I distinctly remember having multiple conversations with my staff + fellow co-workers about her ultimate passing. She had surgery on August 20, 2019, where there were two outcomes. On the CT scan, there were two areas of concern – one under her liver, the other on her colon. If those were indeed cancerous spots, then no surgery (the team wouldn’t know until they opened her up). If it wasn’t cancerous, then a full hysterectomy + possibly parts of her bowels removed.
We were told that we would know about 45 minutes after she was rolled back to the OR – we’d either see Dr. Moxley or we’d get a call from the nurse in the OR to let us know surgery was happening.
For whatever reason, I asked Anthony to go down to the cafeteria with me right around that mark. I believe that was God’s way of leading me away, though I wish more than anything that I had been in the waiting room when Moxley came out to talk to the family. After going in laparoscopically, she realized that there was cancer under the liver, + she couldn’t operate. Dr. Moxley did remove most of her omentum which was completely full of tumor + had moved across her abdominal cavity (the omentum is a fatty apron-like part that drapes in front of the stomach + small intestines.)
When she was finally rolled into her room on the oncology floor at OU Medical Center, the first thing she asked me is what happened. I told her they removed the omentum + that’s it. She was still coming out of anesthesia, but she had the foresight to ask, “then what the f**k did she do?”. I started laughing at that point, because this is so my mom. She was in pain, obviously, from being cut opened, but that wasn’t going to stop her humor from coming through!
Not long after she got home from the hospital, she went downhill fairly quickly. She wasn’t able to drink much, so she ended up becoming dehydrated regularly. I think about every 8 days we were back at OU for her to get fluids. At some point within this time frame, her doctor finally got her on home health, where a nurse would come by the house to give her fluids. This helped her out tremendously.
Sometime around the beginning of September, I knew in my heart of hearts that the cancer was just too far gone, that she wouldn’t be recovering from this. I held off planning Emery’s first birthday, as I wanted my mom to be present for his party. I figured I could throw any date out there + our families would rally. Unfortunately we never got to have a party, but my mom did make it to his first birthday! That was my one wish, my goal for her to see him to a year. It seems so trivial now that she is gone.
The grieving process has been long, one that I know will continue for years to come. Many nights the dinner table is reminiscing about my mom, talking about my thoughts, sometimes re-living those final days. It’s therapeutic to have her at the dinner table with us.
I continue to pray that this little one growing inside me will have many of my mom’s attributes, that I will see my mom in her all the time. They will forever have a special bond, one that I hope will carry this sweet angel through life.
