Her Baby

Me and my pregnant belly spent the night in Mom's room in a plastic very uncomfortable lounge chair.  I was awake more than I was asleep but thankfully, Mom slept well.

In total I was in Florida for a week.  Sam left first, then Val and then I left to go back to my active duty life at Ft. Riley.  Leaving Mom was tough but she was home from the hospital and doing quite well.    She was alert, pain free and knew exactly what was going on  . . . .but the biggest thing about Mom was her faith.  She embraced it like a life-line and well, it really was a life-line. 

Mom talked about her Lord Jesus all of the time, she spent most of her waking hours reading her Bible and praying.  She talked about death and heaven with joy in her voice.  At this point, we had no idea what her long-term prognosis was but Mom was ready to go home.  She had no fear, no complaints, no self-pity --Mom was full of complete and indescribable joy!  And it was an infectious joy.  Mom's illness brought her into this intimate relationship with the Lord.  She entered into the holiest place of the Tablernacle and there, she daily met her God.  To be a witness to that, that deep faith and love for the Lord --that was nothing short of a privilege. 

Mom did not pray for healing.  She prayed for God's will and when it became clear to her God's will was bringing her home, she began to pray for one thing.

Every day, Mom prayed that God will allow her to live long enough to see her baby, the one I was carrying.  She'd say, "I'm ready to go to heaven to live with Jesus but I ask him every day to let me live to see my baby born."

And with that, July 1988 came to an end.

We Really Weren't All About Following The Rules

I don't remember very much about the next few days only that it was a lot of waiting around.  We decided we did not want Mom to stay alone so we all took turns spending the night with her, again we defaulted to birth order and so, Val spent the first night with Mom.  Well, the first night she was out of ICU.  I believe that first night post surgery she stayed the night in ICU.

The first day Mom was back in her room was amazing.  Mom was alert, talking, laughing . . . we just stayed with Mom keeping her company, lifting her spirits.  I think I failed to mention the area in her brain where her tumor was located was the part of the brain that controlled speech, which is why one of Mom's symptoms was forgetting words.  But post surgery Mom was doing quite well.  I mean no, it wasn't a miracle cure and she still had difficulty with her speech but she was talking and knew what was going on.

She was Mom but  . . . she wasn't quite the same.  Something changed in her, I'm not sure what but after her surgery Mom was never the same Mom again.  It was sad yes, but in some ways it was amazing too.

I still needed people to hate and just about every staff person was a perfect candidate for me.  When I say "hate" I don't really mean that in a literal sense, you understand, but in my stage of anger, that emotion just needed some release.  And it wasn't as if I was acting angry or hateful towards anyone, it was more or less an inner turmoil ---fighting my heart, head and confusion privately within myself.

But angry I was, nonetheless.

Mom loved the beach.  You know, that Puerto Rican tropical blood in her.  LOVED!  THE!  BEACH!  So one we were all sitting around with Mom talking and trying to keep her spirits up and she was telling us what she wanted to do when she got out of the hospital --and one of those things was go to the beach.  So we stared making plans--we were talking, laughing --having a good time.  Enter Crabby Nurse.  She comes in and asks if she could speak with us out in the hall --so my sisters and I stepped out.

And she lit into us!  We got a scolding and she wasn't nice about it at all!  "Your mother just had brain surgery!!!  You have her all worked up.  I hear all kinds of laughter and talking going on.  Your mother needs her rest and she doesn't need to be making plans --you understand why, right?  She's not going to the beach!  Now you girls need to keep her calm and quiet or . . ."

The nerve of her!  Really!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  It was as if she was saying Mom was dying and would never go anywhere ever again.  So after our scolding my sister and I stood there and we figured whatever made Mom happy is what we were going to do.  Granted, we understood she needed her rest and we agreed to tone it down a bit --but treat Mom like she was half dead?  No, we refused.  Treat Mom like there was no hope?  Absolutely not!

Since Mom's speech was affected we wondered if that had any bearing on her Spanish, as she was bi-lingual.  So we asked around and found out there was a Spanish speaking nurse on the next floor so we asked if he wouldn't mind coming over to talk to Mom.  He agreed when he got a chance to get away he'd come over.

It was about an hour or so when this young man walks in and very bright and cheerful greets Mom in Spanish.  Her whole face lit up!  She began rattling off Spanish--Mom loved connecting to her Puerto Rican heritage.  They talked for a bit, the nurse turned to us and said, "Her Spanish is completely fine!  She was having no trouble at all understanding me or speaking to me."  Mom was so glad he came.

Another thing Crabby Nurse told us was that Mom should not look at her face or scar until some swelling had gone down.  I don't think Mom looked bad at all but the nurse told us post surgery, Mom kept asking to see herself but they decided it was best if she wait but for us to not act like it was nothing and keep telling Mom we couldn't find a mirror ---just make excuses.  Mom kept asking over and over to see herself and we kept changing the subject, telling her we'd find a mirror, etc.  Then it just came to me --Mom isn't stupid.  I'm sure she was aware of what we were doing and it bothered me.  We were lying to her and treating her like a baby.  Mom asked again to see herself, while gently running her hand over her incisions (they were not bandaged at this point) and my sister Val made up some excuse.  Then Mom touched her face, looked me right in the eye and said, "I look like a monster!"

Her words cut me deep.  I felt so bad for her.  I assured her she certainly did not look like a monster and then I said, "Mom, do you really want to see yourself?"  My sister Val caught my attention and with a mortified look shook her head no.  I wasn't having it.  We were not making Mom feel any better about herself and in fact, she assumed we kept putting her off because she looked horrible.  She needed to see herself and I did not care what any nurse said!  I got a mirror, from where I don't really remember, and I sat on the bed next to Mom.  My sister Val got in close too and we let Mom look at her face.

If you've seen the movie in Titanic there is a scene that so perfectly describes Mom seeing herself in the mirror.  It's when Rose, as an elderly woman, is on the ship she was flown out to and she is shown some articles that were salvaged from the wreckage, one of which was her mirror.  Rose picks it up and looks at herself, stares for a minute then says, "Hmp, the reflection has changed a bit."  It wasn't as if Rose was particularly happy with the change but she was resigned to it --in full acceptance of ---it is what it is!

That is kind of what Mom did.  She looked at herself a bit kind of shrugged and that was that. She was not horrified and if anything, it helped ease her worries and nerves more than anything.  Not seeing herself was making her more anxious.

Since Val had spent the first night with Mom, it was my turn that night.  So after visiting hours were over everyone went back to Mom and Bob's and I spent the night with Mom.  We really weren't supposed to but --if you have not already noticed, we really weren't all about following the rules.

She Was Cold

Still in the wake of the news, a nurse came out and told us we could see Mom; however we could only go in one at a time and we only had 10 minutes total.  My step-Dad deferred to us girls and so it was decided we'd go in birth order.

[I have purposely not said much about my step-Dad because he deserves an entire post himself --which will come later.  His name is Bob.  I'll call him Bob from now on.]

I was so anxious to see Mom.  I felt like no one could take care of her as well as we could because no one could love her as much as we did.  I was still reeling in anger towards the doctor but mostly, my attention and emotions turned towards seeing Mom.  Val was only with Mom a few minutes but it felt like an eternity.

I was bracing myself for the absolute worst when I saw Mom but I also wanted to be strong for her.  When I walked into ICU I was absolutely amazed how well Mom looked.  Besides a bandage on her head, she looked great, much better than I had prepared myself for.  She was alert and talking.  She knew me and said my name.

One thing about Mom is that she was born and raise in Puerto Rico and that tropical island living never got out of her blood.  She despised being cold and HATED winters.  If you knew Mom for any amount of time, you'd soon learn she hated to be cold.  Hated it.

Mom was laying flat on her back and could not get up so in order for her to see you'd have to lean over her bed.  Remember now, I'm 4 months pregnant and it shows.  I'm also short so leaning over onto a tall hospital bed would have been a challenge even without a pregnant belly.  I lean over to see Mom and she said my name, that thrilled me.  She was talking in a very soft voice, almost a whisper.  She said, "Mesa, I'm cold."  I looked up for a nurse and told her we needed a blanket, though Mom was already piled up with a few.  The nurse brought over a nice warm blanket, straight out of a warming drawer.  We piled it on Mom and I asked, "Is that better?"   It was not.

Two things were going through my mind --Mom being the most comfortable she could be and not taking up too much time so my sister Sam could come in.  I knew she too was anxious to see Mom.  Mom kept saying over and over, "I"m cold."  I knew how much Mom hated to be cold.  I wanted her comfortable.  So I tried to lean over and hug her, wrap my arms around her.  I asked for more blankets.  Soon Mom looked like the Princess and the Pea only in reverse.  Instead of Mom being on the top of a pile of blankets, Mom was beneath a pile of blankets.  You could no longer see the shape of her body --it was just a rectangular pile of blankets with her head sticking out.

But she was still so cold.

I just remember trying to get closer to her---hug her, warm her.  My pregnant belly was making that a challenge, leaning over and all.  I was just so focused on helping Mom get warm.  Soon a nurse came over to me and said, "Uh, I'm sorry but you can't get into the bed with her."  Without realizing it, I practically had climbed into bed with Mom!  I kind of looked around and thought to myself, "Well how'd I get up here?"  I'm glad the nurse said that though because the doctor was no longer around so you know, my anger needed a place to land.  Now I hated the nurse.

But I was well aware of my sister waiting to see Mom so I told Mom good-bye and that Sam would be in soon to see her.  I kissed her and hated to leave.  I wanted to stay with her forever and ever and ever but--I could not. 

Bye Mom, Sam is coming in next, okay?  Rest and take care.  We'll see you soon.  Bye, Mom.  I love you.  I love you. 

Anger

Denial.  Anger.

I was going through the classic stages --so proverbial text book.  At first I was in denial.  Even the whole Red Cross fiasco was a welcomed distraction from what was going on.  I was able to focus on all those logistical things and not the reason.  Once I moved from denial I was angry.  Very angry.  And my anger needed some place to land --and so . .

I hated that doctor.  As his words were swimming in my head I was thinking, "How dare you!  This is our MOTHER you are talking about."  As my heart made that transition from denial to anger, I wanted someone to blame.  The doctor made it easy though.  His bedside manner was horrible.  He was so matter-of-fact and almost had an air of arrogance about him.  I hated him.  I thought, "Oh sure, you drop this bomb on us and you're going to speed away in your fancy sports car and go home to YOUR family.  How dare you do this to us!"

My oldest sister was taking charge --asking questions, putting herself in the forefront.  That is both her personality and birth order.  She was the oldest, she was establishing her authority.  My youngest sister didn't say too much.  I couldn't stand looking at her face --it revealed so much of her broken heart and I couldn't bare it --which is probably why I focused so much on the doctor's hands.  My step-father was standing behind us, still very close and listening to every word.

My sister Val asked one final question.  After the doctor laid out to us Mom's condition my sister Val asked, "What about the prognosis?  What can we expect?"  The doctor almost seemed annoyed at the question and he kept things short as if he were trying to end the conversation.  He was impatient and snippy.  He answered, "Prognosis?  There's just no way to know.  I told you, your Mom has a tumor in her brain and its growing and there's no way to remove it.  What else can I tell you?  We'll do radiation but you have to remember, the radiation kills cells --it kills good cells and it kills bad cells.  The radiation will slow down the tumor's growth but it will also kill her brain cells."

Anger!

Next we asked if we could see Mom and again being very impatient, the doctor said someone would come get us, "Anything else?", he asked.  No, that was it.  He whisked himself away.  We were left standing there--digesting this news.

I Hurt So Very Badly

I wasn't worried or upset while Mom was in surgery because mostly, I was kind of detached from the entire thing.  My head knew what was going on but I didn't allow my heart into the matter.  It was a defense mechanism, I guess.  While we were waiting to hear about Mom's surgery, I was pretty easy going.  There was a large general waiting room and then there were smaller private rooms.  I didn't like the private rooms because they really look like they existed only for the purpose of the doctor having to tell you your loved one didn't make it . . . .

But Mom was going to make it because to me there was hardly any difference than Mom having a splinter removed --I was just that far removed from the situation.  It was like I was having an out-of-body experience; I was there and going through the motions but yet, I wasn't there. 

Its kind of hard to explain.

So the waiting did make me weary or tired.  I was mostly bored.  My sister Val was reading her Bible off and on and at one point she showed a verse to me and said, "If Mom doesn't make  it I'm going to claim this verse."  I can't tell you how much that annoyed me.  First of all, "if Mom doesn't make it" didn't even translate to me.  It didn't even occur to me to pray for Mom because like I said, I was trying to make this out to be nothing at all --some simple procedure with a happy outcome.  At one point I finally thought to myself, "Maybe I should pray for Mom too."  So I went into one of those small rooms and prayed something like this.

Heavenly Father, I don't know what to ask or pray for but it seems with her in surgery and all I should ---I should try and  --its just that I can't imagine my life without . . .

I stopped.  Tears were swelling up in my eyes and I immediately turned everything off --my tears, my heart, my prayers, my emotions --all of it.  You see, having to pray meant for me to think about what was going on.  Having to think about what was going on was way bigger than me --it was too heavy.  I ended my prayer with . .

I'm sorry.  I just can't do this.  But you know my heart and you know me.  That's all I can say.

I walked out of the room and resumed my wait with my sisters.

It was several hours before the doctor finally came to see us.  We were all in the big waiting area watching TV, talking, waiting ----and he comes in so we all rushed over to him.  He started, "Your Mom is fine.  Surgery went. . "

He was talking a bit with his hands and I couldn't help notice them.  His voice faded into the background as I stared down at his hands and that was my moment of reality.  His hands were all pruny like when you've been in the water a very long time.  I thought, "This is real.  This is happening.  Its not like this on Marcus Welby.  Doctors on TV don't have pruny hands because they didn't really do surgery.  He did surgery.  This is real.  This is happening to Mom."

I have no idea where the Marcus Welby reference came from --even 21 years ago that show had long been off the air --but maybe it was some attachment to my childhood--the place where my memory of Mom begins. . . .

At that moment of reality, I could barely focus.  I hated every word I heard. I hurt so badly.  I hurt so very badly.  With my heart and head swimming in this pool of reality, I tried so hard to focus on the doctor's words  but I only heard bits and pieces . . .

We cut as much of the tumor out as we could . . . . it had already gone too deep into her brain . . . taking any more out would have meant removing part of her brain . . radiation and . . . .months to come . . . any more questions?

Just Wait

Finally landing in Florida was quite a relief however; I was still not certain I was going to make it to the hospital before my Mom went into surgery.  My step-Dad was at the airport to pick me up and thankfully, it was a small airport.  It was literally walk off plane, right into baggage claim right to front door, right to parking lot.  My step-father was able to park right at the entrance, I walked off the plane and he said to me, "We better hurry, your Mother is going into surgery any minute now."  I did not have checked baggage so we were able to get right into the car and head out.

It was only about a 20 minute drive, which felt like and eternity.  My heart was racing and I had a panic feeling swelling in my chest.  I had done all I could.  I had so many hurdles to jump but now I was in the home stretch.  My step-Dad dropped me off at the door at the hospital while he went to park.  I rushed to Mom's room.  I finally made it to my Mom's room and I braced myself for what I might find.  If the room was empty, I was too late.


Breathless, I turn the corner and walk into Mom's room to find her still in her bed awaiting surgery.  When she saw me she screamed with delight.  My step-Dad's daughter, Liz, was in the room along with my sisters, Val and Sam.  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, "You made it!"  By this time, my step-Dad had even finished parking and he was in the room too.  Much like when we surprised Mom at work, my Mom was talking fast and high pitched, very excited and nervous too.   As we all sat around Mom she said, "Now that I have all of you here I want to tell you . . . "  Then Mom started giving us a verbal will, so to speak.  She was telling us about insurance policies, etc.  My sister Val said, "Mom!  We don't care about money.  You don't have to tell us this . ."  But Mom was insistent, "No, I want you to know this --what I want."  Mom went on to say:

I don't want you to be sad for me.  If I die I'm going to heaven.  I will be in heaven with Jesus so there's no reason to be sad for me.  I do not want any flowers at my funeral.  I'm not there to enjoy them --its a waste of money.  Instead I want money to my church.  . . ."  

She continued on with specifications but only a few minutes after my arrival, a nurse came in and said it was time for Mom to go.  We all kissed her and hugged her.  Though she wouldn't let on, I could tell she was nervous and scared but deeper still, she held on so strong to her faith and trusting in God's will for her live --whatever that may be.  We were directed to another floor in the hospital where there was a waiting room for family members.  So as Mom was wheeled out of her room, we all headed up to another floor.

To wait.  Just wait.

Holding Pattern

I'm not sure how that little Dodge Colt did it but we whipped into Kansas City airport just 10 minutes before the flight was to take off.

10 minutes.

There was no time for long-term parking.  In fact, I barely had time to park at all.  Thankfully, Kansas City airport was small and back then, there was not the same level of security as there is today so I jetted myself into the short-term parking lot and parked in the front row, just a short walk from the entrance.  I grabbed my bag and hustled my 4 month pregnant self to the check-in counter.  Breathless, I explained to the clerk I was supposed to be on a flight that was getting ready to take off.  She tapped on her keyboard ---click clack, click clack and said, "This flight might have taken off already.  Let me call the  . . . "

My heart was pounding in my chest and I was literally shaking.  I never felt so desperate for something in my entire life.  Desperate.  She calls the gate.

"I have a passenger . . . oh good, yes please do.  Okay, I'm getting her checked in now . . yes, okay.  I'll let her know.  Great, thanks."  She then says to me, "You are so lucky.  They were just closing the doors but they are holding the flight for you.  I told them we'd have you checked in ---this will just take a few moments click clack, click clack . .  okay so that will be $800 and . . "

I pulled out my pretty Red Cross check and handed it to the clerk.  She stares down at it, looks at me and I could tell she did not want to deliver the news . . ."I'm sorry, we don't accept checks. .  ."

I just broke down crying.  I had been trying to get to Florida for hours and now I'm this close and --I can't pay for the flight.  Up until now I pretty much held it together but now, I just couldn't take it.  I stood there sobbing and simply said, "It's all I have.  The check is good, its a real check and --its all I have but I just have to get to Florida and . . "  She cut me off.

"Okay, I'll be right back."  She took the check with her.  A short while later she returns and there's a man with her.  I could tell by the looks on their faces they came to deliver bad news.  The man is holding the check, he holds it out to me and says, "Unfortunately, we don't accept checks and I might be able to over ride that for a smaller amount but  --this is quite a large check and --I'm sorry but we just don't accept checks.  Do you have another form of payment, perhaps?"  I reach into my purse which I'm sure they thought to grab my wallet or something but instead, I grabbed my military Emergency Leave orders.  I laid them on the counter and with tears rolling down my face I said, "I have no other form of payment but that Red Cross check."  I pushed my orders towards them and said, "But I have to get to Florida tonight."  The man picked up my orders, gave them a quick glance and said to the woman, "Print her a ticket."  He then looked at me and said, "Good luck to you."  Then he walked away.  The woman was preparing my ticket and her phone rang, " . . .yes, I'm printing it now.  I know.  Yes, right now.  She will.  Okay, I'll tell her."  She hung up giving me a warm smile and said, "They're still holding the flight.  I think the pilot is getting impatient. . . I know this must be something important . . "  She handed me my ticket and said, "I hope everything works out for you.  Go now, they're waiting for you."

I grabbed the ticket and boarding pass and FLEW.    At least I didn't have the security measures that are in place to day --I sailed right to the gate where a host of attendants were waiting for me.  They were impatient but kind.  They were motioning for me to hurry to the gate.  It was almost as if I were celebrity status.  Every attendant was waiting on me ---one grabbed my boarding pass, one grabbed my bag, "I'm going to store this for you up front."  Another was waiting to show me to my seat . . .they were all very nice and very accommodating.  I just wish the passengers were the same.  As soon as I boarded the flight I got stares and "tisks" and people rolling their eyes at me . . There she is!  The stupid lady that can't get to the airport on time and held up our flight. . "  As I walked to my seat, it felt like every eye was angrily plastered on me.  They had absolutely no idea what I had been through.

I finally got to my seat and no sooner than I got my seat belt clicked on, I heard the pilot come over the speaker and the plane began to pull out.

I was finally on my way to Florida but looking at the time, Mom was scheduled to go into surgery in just a few hours.