Death is funny

I had just moved to California.  Mom was flying through chemo like a rockstar but had a setback with her lungs.  We just needed to kick out that PCP Pneumonia, and then she'd be fine.  But, after a few days, she wasn't getting better.  My dad had checked with the doctors and they had cleared her for a trip to visit my new place in LA.  She was cured of Hodkins!  She can travel!

We talked about doing a modified visit---lots of puzzle time, lots of hanging out at home and drives instead of walks.  My mom never liked to walk anyway, so it'd be fine.  She would be a bit weak, but still ok if we could just kick out that PCP Pneumonia!

Then, she wasn't responding to antibiotics, so maybe cancel the flight.  Would there be any change fees?  We hadn't booked on SWA. And then we heard she's at 25% heart capacity.  Ok, not great news, but her lungs would kick in!  So, we cancelled the flights. Figured, there would be no change fee for someone in the hospital.  Then, maybe I should come home to Ohio for a "cheer up" visit.  It was hard for me to be far away when she was in the hopsital---but it if I could see her smiling and laughing I'd realize she's going to be ok.

I went home.  In the end, I was with her for 2 1/2 days and then she went into ICU.  That last morning was wonderful.  Uncle Tom, my dad, and Mrs J were all there, and we laughed and joked about Dad's chart for her breathing blowing into a tube.  It seemed like it'd be ok if she just worked out those lungs.  All that day, the nurses wanted to get her out of bed and into her chair but she felt too weak. 

After everyone left to let her rest, it was just me and her.  She napped, and then the pulmonologist and the cardiologist came in and looked so grim.   She said "it doesn't look good" and I said we can beat out that infection!  Breathe and eat mom!

Then, she took a nap, and woke up and had a major oxygen deprivation incident.  I was so scared---everyone ran into the room and someone said "Did you call your dad?"  I had and was sobbing but trying to be the happy positive face she would see and she was wearing that stupid awful oxygen CPAP mask and looking at me with those big baby blues like "What the heck is going on here???"  I followed all of them into ICU and at some point everyone was there.  We decided to intubate and she said "What are we waiting for?" and whispered to my dad "I think he's taking me up" (meaning God) and so they did it, and she was sedated.  She could respond and squeeze our hands, and kept grabbing at the tube, until they had to restrain her.  In another few days, we did a trach, and that wasn't any better and then she was gone.

It happened too fast for me.  For all of us--we didn't know she'd be gone.  I don't think she did either. My sister Beth said  "they always recover on Grey's Anatomy" and Kitty and I had a dance party, and played her favorite Rolling Stones song "Beast of Burden", and Barry Manilow's "copacabana" and then sobbed while we played CSNY's "Our House".  She loved loved that song.  Life used to be so hard.

We all got to say goodbye, and be with her and her wake was wonderful and her funeral was perfect but she's still gone.

I want to call her all the time. On every walk with my little dog, Pickle, and when I finish work or am in the car.  All the time.  To tell her about the concert I'm going to or the garage sale where I scored a bunch of great clothes.

I miss her so much!  So much!   I know I'll be fine and we'll all be fine--she lost her dad when she was so young, and taught us all how to move on.

But, I don't want to.  I am selfish and want her here.

She was the best mom I could have ever wanted---funny, smart, and so so kind and friendly. That big smile.

I walked today up to the Frank Lloyd Wright Hollyhock house in my neighborhood and thought "I can't wait to show this to my dad".  I sent a picture to my siblings and they wrote back "Send more pictures!".  We love that architecture shit. We all went to Falling Water a few years ago, and one of my favorite pictures is her and my dad holding hands as we walked towards the entrance.

I know this isn't Vietnam, or another terrible awful situation, but I feel terrible.  Awful.  Like, I can binge watch tv, and listen to Willie Nelson--but it's still there. 

I miss my mommy.  So so much.  I know it'll all be ok and she's at peace but as my sisters and dad keep saying "It sucks.  It just sucks". 

So, death is funny.  I haven't experienced any tragedy, young loss of life in a truly personal way.  But, now that I'm here---my heart goes out to everyone who has lost that special someone amazing.

May we all keep their legacy and love in our hearts.