Today is the day my mother passed away. Ten years seems to have gone by in a flash. Where did the time go? That morning, the phone rang and my husband answered. It was the hospital announcing that mom was in surgery and that the family needed to be there. I arrived around 7:30 in the morning. It was not good news when the surgeon came out to talk to us. Her situation was dire. They would be taking things “moment by moment”
That is never what you want to hear. Someone was not going home from that hospital, most likely it was our mom.
My brother and I were on watch all day. We got updates that were not encouraging. Finally, we decided to get some dinner. When we returned to the hospital, we found out she had been moved to the surgical ICU and we could see her briefly. The room had glass walls so the doctors and nurses could see at all times what was going on in those rooms. Our mom was unrecognizable. She looked like a skeleton. She had been hooked up to a ventilator and had a bunch of nurses around her. The stench in that room was incredible. We had no idea it was the smell of imminent death.
My brother and I held her hands. Then her eyes opened. One of the doctors was in there telling us she was doing remarkably well. They were planning more surgery and had to set all new goals for her. She was going to bounce back. He told us to go home and get some sleep. We had another long day ahead of us tomorrow.
As we left the hospital, she coded.
We ran back up in time to see her being hit with defibrillator paddles. We heard the doctor half screaming half crying “I was just here! What happened to her?” My brother and I cried like the two kids we were. One of us would stop, the other one would start back up. I called my husband to tell him mom was dead. Mom had been sick for years we found out. She suffered in silence. She didn’t want to burden anyone with her problems. She was the strongest person I ever met without a doubt.
Looking back, I now know why she opened her eyes. She was trying to say goodbye to me and my brother.
Goodbye mom. Ten years gone and I miss you still. Rest in peace.