The Worst Day of My Life
Six years ago today was the worst (and longest) day of my life.
My phone rang around four in the morning. My dad was calling to tell me my mom had collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. (To this day, I still break out in a cold sweat if the phone rings in the middle of the night).
He wanted me to come by their house and wait for my grandfather (my mom's dad) to wake up so I could take him to the hospital.
I remember getting in the shower and sobbing. I sat in the corner of the shower and cried, not wanting to face this day... knowing what the outcome would be, yet at the same time, denying what the outcome would be. I even dressed up (and wore horribly uncomfortable shoes) because I wanted to look nice when my mom woke up.
I drove to my mom and dad's house and waited - wanting to rush to the hospital, but doing what my dad had asked me to do. My aunt called the house (my mom's sister) and thought it was ridiculous that I was waiting on someone to wake up. She told me to wake my grandfather up, so we could both head over to the hospital. (Which is exactly what I did).
I parked in emergency room parking, and we headed in. This started a looooong day of waiting for the doctor to show up. They moved her from the emergency room to ICU. Me, my dad, my brother and his wife kept vigil with my mom - sitting beside her and talking to her, sharing stories, laughing and crying. (My grandfather couldn't face what was going on, so he stayed in the waiting room all day). My mom wasn't awake. She was on life support.
All day we waited for the doctor to show up. My brother and I fooled ourselves into thinking she was going to wake up... her eyes would move, and they'd open a little bit. We took this as a good sign.
Twelve hours after she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, the doctor finally made an appearance. He spent about 5 minutes in the room with her, and the started talking about taking her off life support the next day. Still majoring in denial, I took that to be a good sign... I thought they were giving her a chance to get stronger... and she'd be strong enough to breath on her own by the next day.
The doctor left, and we all headed down to the waiting room to talk for a bit. By this time, my aunt and uncle had arrived.
All of a sudden, my dad brought up the funeral. This was like a punch in the gut. Somehow I'd missed the fact that the doctor was telling us that my mom was dying, and all that was keeping her alive was life support.. (The cancer had spread all over her body by this point... her doctor knew, but my mom didn't want to know, so she had kept him from telling her.)
I didn't understand it. If there was no hope for her, and she was going to die, why were they taking her off life support tomorrow? I couldn't stand the thought of her being alone in the ICU all night.
I actually asked my family to consider taking her off life support that day. I argued my case, and everyone agreed that we should contact the doctor and do it right away rather than dragging things out. We didn't want to her to be alone... we didn't want her to live with pain any longer than she had to.
Around 5 pm, the doctor came back, and we asked him if there was any reason to keep her on life support - if she had any chance whatsoever. He said no... he'd just been trying to give us time to adjust to the fact that she was dying.
Shortly after that conversation, we all gathered around my mom (except for my grandfather, who just couldn't deal with it) while they turned off the life support. I honestly thought she would be gone within a matter of moments after that, but I was seriously deluded. She clung to life for more than seven hours after that. Again we all took turns holding her hands, talking to her, sharing stories.
I spent 19 hours that day in the hospital watching her struggle to breath.... watching her die.
To be continued.
My phone rang around four in the morning. My dad was calling to tell me my mom had collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. (To this day, I still break out in a cold sweat if the phone rings in the middle of the night).
He wanted me to come by their house and wait for my grandfather (my mom's dad) to wake up so I could take him to the hospital.
I remember getting in the shower and sobbing. I sat in the corner of the shower and cried, not wanting to face this day... knowing what the outcome would be, yet at the same time, denying what the outcome would be. I even dressed up (and wore horribly uncomfortable shoes) because I wanted to look nice when my mom woke up.
I drove to my mom and dad's house and waited - wanting to rush to the hospital, but doing what my dad had asked me to do. My aunt called the house (my mom's sister) and thought it was ridiculous that I was waiting on someone to wake up. She told me to wake my grandfather up, so we could both head over to the hospital. (Which is exactly what I did).
I parked in emergency room parking, and we headed in. This started a looooong day of waiting for the doctor to show up. They moved her from the emergency room to ICU. Me, my dad, my brother and his wife kept vigil with my mom - sitting beside her and talking to her, sharing stories, laughing and crying. (My grandfather couldn't face what was going on, so he stayed in the waiting room all day). My mom wasn't awake. She was on life support.
All day we waited for the doctor to show up. My brother and I fooled ourselves into thinking she was going to wake up... her eyes would move, and they'd open a little bit. We took this as a good sign.
Twelve hours after she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, the doctor finally made an appearance. He spent about 5 minutes in the room with her, and the started talking about taking her off life support the next day. Still majoring in denial, I took that to be a good sign... I thought they were giving her a chance to get stronger... and she'd be strong enough to breath on her own by the next day.
The doctor left, and we all headed down to the waiting room to talk for a bit. By this time, my aunt and uncle had arrived.
All of a sudden, my dad brought up the funeral. This was like a punch in the gut. Somehow I'd missed the fact that the doctor was telling us that my mom was dying, and all that was keeping her alive was life support.. (The cancer had spread all over her body by this point... her doctor knew, but my mom didn't want to know, so she had kept him from telling her.)
I didn't understand it. If there was no hope for her, and she was going to die, why were they taking her off life support tomorrow? I couldn't stand the thought of her being alone in the ICU all night.
I actually asked my family to consider taking her off life support that day. I argued my case, and everyone agreed that we should contact the doctor and do it right away rather than dragging things out. We didn't want to her to be alone... we didn't want her to live with pain any longer than she had to.
Around 5 pm, the doctor came back, and we asked him if there was any reason to keep her on life support - if she had any chance whatsoever. He said no... he'd just been trying to give us time to adjust to the fact that she was dying.
Shortly after that conversation, we all gathered around my mom (except for my grandfather, who just couldn't deal with it) while they turned off the life support. I honestly thought she would be gone within a matter of moments after that, but I was seriously deluded. She clung to life for more than seven hours after that. Again we all took turns holding her hands, talking to her, sharing stories.
I spent 19 hours that day in the hospital watching her struggle to breath.... watching her die.
To be continued.