My mom has terminal lung cancer. She was diagnosed in January and told she had 18 months. Now today,4 months later, she has had chemo and radiation and suddenly her prognosis is now 30 days. I dont understand it.
I sit at her side everyday. Somedays she apologizes to me. She tells me how she could have been a better mother, but that isnt true.
Some days she is angry. Angry because I cannot help her and she isnt ready to die. Angry because she smoked for 40 years and knew better every time the match lit.
Some days she is happy. Her mother and father passed years ago and she looks forward to a reunion.
And some days she is in agony. Pushing the button on the morphine pump until it quits beeping.
I sit at her side and cry.
Sometimes we laugh hysterically, like mad women. At something she says or does. Sometimes we hold each other tightly and cry.
There are days that I wonder if I can go in that room. I feel like if I have to look at her slight, 80 lb frame once more I will begin to scream and scream and scream until they cart me off.
It happens so fast. On Christmas she was vibrant and happy. Grandmothering and silly, full of fun. One month late she was a tiny piece of what she used to be.
Im not ready to loose my mom. Where will I go when I need her? Who will I talk to?
Ive tried to do something helpful. I organized a benefit for her to help pay these monstrous bills from Vanderbilt Cancer Hospital.
My dear friend, Sonja Massie AKA G.A. McKevett had donated autographed books to auction off. So sweet.
Ive gotten together a band and garnered free food from a local restaurant to sell.
We have antiques donated for auction and so many baked goods for a bake sale.
I dont know what else to do. Its trivial really. I cant heal her. I cant make her better. So I will stay by her side and pay what bills I am able and miss her until I die myself.
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