drew

I own a retail store and my mother was like my business partner. We sell antiques and home decor and we also have a boutique that sells jewelry, purses, scarves, etc. My mom and I used to go to Chicago four times a year for the merchandise shows. For the last 5 years we've gone with one of my mom's friends who also has a store. A month and a half before my mom died, we had planned to go to the fall show in Chicago. My mom loved going to the city with us, but at this point, she was so sick and weak. The doctor advised that she didn't go. But she packed some comfortable clothes and some flat shoes instead of her heals. She was bound and determined to go on this trip. Cancer was not going to stop her from doing what she wanted...at least not completely. After three hours of viewing new products, mom got very tired. The hat she was wearing started to make her hot, so she took it off. There she was...amongst all these women who had their hair done so nicely...sitting on a bench with her bald head exposed. I was embarrassed at first. I went over and told her to put her hat on becuase she was making people uncomfortable. "Uncomfortable!" she said. "How do you think I feel with this tumor in my head! Besides, this hat is driving me nuts!" At that moment I realized that I had no right to be embarrassed. I helped my mom back to the hotel room so she could nap. On the way there I noticed that she was becoming more fatigued, so I offered to carry her purse. Normally I would have been so embarrassed to carry a purse around, but this time I proudly slung it over my shoulder and my mom laughed as we walked arm in arm back to the room. As I got ready to go this show, I wondered what it would be like without my mom. Her friend and I took the train up there, and we laughed and cried as we told stories about mom. It was a difficult weekend, but also healing. I still wish my mom had been there with me. She had a soft spot for "baby products." Everytime I saw showrooms that carried baby lines, I thought, "Oh! I have to show mom this!" Then I would remember that she's dead. It's so weird because everyday I still think of things that I need to tell her. Or something will happen at school and I'll think, "mom is gonna crack up when I tell her this!" I suppose that goes away with time. People still stop me and ask how she's doing. Then I have to relive her death all over again. That happened to me twice yesterday. And I still get cards for her, and people still call and leave messages. The dog still waits at the door after I come home and whines. It's just so hard to move on. I can't even put her clean clothes away. They've sat at the foot of my bed in a basket for three and a half weeks. It just seems like she should come in and say, "Hey, put those clothes away!"

Sandralb, Wow your mother sounds like an absolutely wonderful person. My mother liked to get into "trouble" too! Oh the stories I could tell of us breaking all the rules and having soooo much fun! It is a very difficult thing to watch someone you love slowly die. My mom was a spunky, outgoing, talk-to-everyone person, and it was hard to watch her lose energy. But I am so thankful that I was there to help make her life at least a little easier. When I feel guilty about "not doing enough" I imagine what it would feel like if I had chosen not to be her primary caretaker. Then I don't feel AS bad. There is one thing that has helped me a little to deal with my grief and sadness: Helping others. The last thing I want to do is be around people at this point, but when I force myself to get out of the house, and realize that people don't mean the dumb things they say, helping others really takes the focus off of my own problems for a while. Please continue to post and read others' posts. I wish you the best! Drew

It seems to me that you are a very loving and caring daughter. Please keep posting here. Thank you for your encouragement. Actually I am a guy...sorry for the confusion!

My mom died three weeks ago yesterday. It was the day after Christmas. She had been sick for awhile, and I was her primary caregiver...for a long time her only caregiver. I am her only son. I just feel sad all the time now. And I'm not normally a sad person. My mom was not only my parent, but my best friend, and toward the end, she became like a child to me. It's strange when the child has to become the parent (I'm 21 years old). I never could be around "medical" stuff or sick people. My mom had cancer twice before this, but the first time I was only 9, and I got shipped off to her friends' houses on her really bad days. My step dad died a few years ago, and I don't think I cried one tear. I felt like I had to be strong for my mom because she took it very hard. But now I feel like there is no one to be strong for. She was diagnosed this last time in February of 2007. I was scared to death. I'm still in school, and i just bought my first home. I immediately packed my bags and moved back in with my mom. She was soooo tired. Before she was sick, my mom was a vivacious woman, full of life. She loved to be around people, and was always helping someone. She started losing weight and found it difficult to do simeple things like carry laundry up and down the stairs, or stay awake for a movie. The doctors here told her that surgery was not an option. The cancer was in her hard and soft palate and in her jaw bone. She wanted it out, so she went to Florida to a specialist. They too said that radiation was the only option. She had already had radiation 12 years ago and knew that her body could not tolerate a whole lot more. Meanwhile this cancer was rapidly growing. No one would do ANYTHING! Finally a team of surgeons in Indianapolis agreed to do the surgery. It took 12 hours. That was the longest 12 hours of my life. I will never forget walking into the post-op room and seeing my mom, unconscious still, lying there. Everything was still covered in blood. Her hair was soaked in blood and it was all over her neck and chest. They had not prepared me for what I was about to see and the tears began to flow. Tears of joy that my mom lived through the surgery, and tears of sorrow that my precious mother would never be the same. They said she may not be able to talk or breath right. But the next morning she woke up and yelled at one of the doctors to come over and tell her how it went! He couldn't believe that she was breathing on her own and was able to talk (even though it was very difficult to understand her). As soon as I turned the corner, my mom's eye (she could only open one at this point due to swelling) lit up. She made some gurgling noises and reached for a piece of paper and pen. She wrote "I am SO glad to see YOU!" I tried to find a spot on her face that didn't have dried blood on it. I couldn't, so I kissed her anyway. I'm so glad I did. The next thing she wrote to me was "How do I look?" Her face was so swollen on the right side that she was unrecognizable. I only knew her because her name was written on a dry erase board next to her bed. There was a 2 foot long scar from her forehead down to the middle of her right arm, and around to the middle of her neck. She was covered in staples and blood and part of her hair was shaved off. I smiled and lied. I told her she looked great! Before cancer, my mom was a gorgeous woman. After cancer, she was even more beautiful in my eyes. It took twelve days in the hospital. It's amazing how we celebrated tiny milestones. The first time she sat up in bed. The fist time she sat in a chair. When we got to take her catheder out. The first time she was able to walk again. Then reality set in. She looked different. She couldn't talk the same. She couldn't eat, and had to have a feeding tube. People looked at my mom like she was a freak. And the terrible thing was that I couldn't blame them. If I were them, I would stare too. The first time she got out of the car on our way home from the hospital, we went into a Panera Bread for me and her friend to get something to eat and so she could use the bathroom. people shreeked and a little girl looked scared of my mom. That was the worst because my mom loves kids and has always worked with them. She could only show emotion on one side of her face because they cut so many nerves during surgery. She couldn't even cry out of her right eye. We both collapsed into the car and weeped for a good 15 minutes. I have to go to class now, but it feels good to get some of this off my chest. I know I haven't really mentioned anything about her death yet, but I will write more later. Thanks for listening.