07.03.09
devastated
She’s not going to make it. I want to stay positive and when I am with her or Sal or my husband I work hard to keep my chin and their spirits up. Inside though I know that this is progressing way too swiftly to be anything but bad.
It was supposed to be a simple laparoscopic ‘kidneyectomy’. Katy (my mother-in-law) just had a small lump and it was to be a quick and easy surgery, the doc didn’t even think she’d need more than a day or two in the hospital. That was just six weeks ago and now everything has changed.
Two weeks after that first visit to the surgeon Katy returned for some more tests which showed that the single tumor was now three. In two weeks it tripled. My warning bells went off, why didn’t the doctor’s? It’s going to be very easy for us to be angry with the docs at this point, to us it feels like they dragged their heels but realistically it has only been six weeks. We only have one patient to worry about and sadly they have so many more. We get it, we’re just not happy about it.
It took some time for the surgeon to talk to the oncologist about what treatment route would be best and last Wednesday they finally got their shit together and she was scheduled for her pre-op assessment. She collapsed in the waiting room.
She was admitted to the hospital immediately and every day the news gets worse. Her heart is all fucky so they have her on something for that as well as blood thinners. Surgery at this point would kill her so they have to get her strong enough and her heart rate under control first. She was taken off her pain meds and went into withdrawal… if it wasn’t so sad it would have been funny to hear the doctor tell my husband that his mother had the DT’s.
When we got to her room for the first time I sat down beside her, she grabbed my hands and started sobbing, “Brenda, I am so scared.” I choked back my own tears and assured her that everything would be ok (I even believed it then) and that we just had to be patient but it would all be just fine. My husband had to leave the room several times. He is her baby and they’ve always kinda stuck together. It’s killing him to see her this way. Katy is a shell of herself, she has lost a lot of weight, she is pale and her usually bright and smiley eyes have become vacant.
We were still hoping for the best but the news this afternoon didn’t come with a side of hope. They did a chest X-ray to find out why her breathing is so laboured and they found more spots. The doc said she couldn’t say anything for certain until radiology filed their report but she is quite certain what those spots mean. A death sentence.
I wrote the first part of this post on Monday. On Tuesday they sent her for a CT scan and they discovered that the cancer has invaded a bloodstream and is now into her lungs and beyond and they have told us she only has a matter of days, to give her a week or two would be overly optimistic.
Now we wait for her to die.
My husband’s brother Karl flew out from Ontario, he’s a lawyer and thinks everyone is beneath him and he’s more than a little bit of a douche but I think it helps my husband to have him here. It relieves a bit of the burden and pressure that he’s been under to be able to share it. I am relieved that The Boy is not here. As much as we would love to have him home right now, I am glad he won’t see his Baba this way. She would not want him to remember her in a hospital bed. If he can’t come home for the funeral, we’ll do a private family memorial when he does come home in August.
I want to do right by her. I want to make sure everyone else does right by her too, she deserves so much more and nothing less. All we can do is keep her as comfortable as possible. She doesn’t seem to be in any real pain but they have her on a slow morphine drip to keep her calm. She hasn’t spoken (coherently) in two days but she is restless and agitated and she is developing some nasty bedsores.
I am dealing with all of my fears of death, dying and hospitals. I do my best to keep her mouth from drying out by swabbing it with lemon sticks and giving her sips of water or juice when she can take it. I hold her hand and talk or read to her even though I am sure she doesn’t hear me, I keep a cool cloth on her brow and repeatedly put vaseline on her parched lips. There was a time not too long ago when doing these things was not only foreign but also unimaginable and frightening to me. I don’t normally deal well with any of this, it freaks me out, but she means so much to me that my own hangups have ceased to matter.
My husband sits beside her bed, his arms folded on the bars and his chin resting on them, he watches her intently looking like a little boy, forlorn, waiting for his mommy to wake up.
It kills me.
I hate this.
KingOfAnkh said,
July 3, 2009 at 5:09 pm
There’s not a lot anyone can say or do after reading such a heart-rending tale. I feel for you and your family and can only hope that in sending some prayers that the next week will be as painless as it can be for all concerned.
heartinhand said,
July 3, 2009 at 7:03 pm
This is one of those things I wish we didn’t have in common. Having been there such a short time ago, I know exactly what you are going through and it sucks.
It always feels like we’ve never had enough time with the ones we love when they are about to go. We want to hang on and squeeze every last second out. That you are setting aside your fears and discomfort in order to comfort her is love in the purest form. Heiny is going to need you, now, tomorrow and always. Lean on each other. And your friends. We’re here for you.
Patty said,
July 3, 2009 at 7:21 pm
Ben, I am so terribly sorry your husband and you are having to go through this. I know what it’s like. I lost my sister 26 years ago to cancer. Now my brother’s wife is in the hospital dying from it. Hers started as a tumor next to her lung, they couldn’t operate, but they treated it with chemo and radiation. Radiologist said they should do a scan of her head, because this kind so often goes there, sure enough there was a small spot. More radiation. Then they found it in her spine. Once again, they found another spot at a different location in her brain, so she had one of those shunt/ports put into her head to start chemo directly to the brain. So far they haven’t been able to, she ended up with pneumonia and four other infections attacking her body, her white count is way too low. They’ve moved her to a larger hospital where her lung doctor is, but it sure doesn’t look good. She’s been fighting this for the past two years, in fact she was going through her radiation same time I was finishing mine. But I think she finally gave up a little when their only son was killed this past Oct. in a vehicle accident, which wasn’t his fault. My brother and his wife have been going through an awfully hard time and I can see the toil it takes on people.
I wish you and your husband the best. Hospice has classes that sometimes help the family to cope in situations like this. I don’t know if it’s something you would want to check into or not. They gave my brother a book yesterday to read. Good luck and know others are thinking of you.
Melissa said,
July 3, 2009 at 11:16 pm
Oh Ben I can relate after watching my father in law die from cancer. My ex-husband wasn’t around very much, even then as his father was dying, I was the one bringing meals over to his parents and talking with them. Doing the things you are now doing because in all honesty my father in law was a great man. I still miss him.
I hope this week brings your husband and you some peace with the process you are going through. I’ve been thinking of you and your family.
elisa said,
July 4, 2009 at 10:57 am
oh gosh, ben, I dont know what to say.
*hugs*
All I can do is pray that God eases your MIL’s pain. And that He eases the pain of all the people who love her.
*hugs*
Chica said,
July 4, 2009 at 2:09 pm
I took care of patients in the same state as that, and family was nowhere to be seen. You being there for her like that, not only means the world to her and your immediate loved ones, but I’m pretty sure your affecting the doctors and nurses that care for her as well. Your doing a great job, I know it doesn’t feel like it, because you can always do something else, or try harder, but your doing all that you can do and that’s that.
I hope that you all can make it through this with lots of love, and strength together. *huggz*
Wanda said,
July 5, 2009 at 12:48 am
Oh Ben, I am so sorry to read about your MIL. I don’t know what to say but just know you are in my thoughts and prayers and that I am here for you. And I know you will do right by her, just being there for her and loving her son like you do is doing it “right”.
take care
~many hugs~
Wanda
Squilla said,
July 5, 2009 at 7:44 am
Oh my goodness, Ben. I am so so sorry to hear this news. All my love and thoughts are with you and your family. I am so very sorry and I hope you can find some peace in the knowledge of how much you love each other, and know that you have done absolutely everything that you humanly can. *strong supporting hugs* XXXXX
Betz said,
July 6, 2009 at 6:26 am
It’s hard for me to read this and to comment since my own Dad is managing to defy doctors since his diagnosis in February. We live in denial whether we admit it or not but both J and I know that we’ll be in your shoes sooner than we’d like to be.
We think of you often, pray for you daily and hope for a miracle. It’s not much when you’re all in such pain.
*hugs*
Betz said,
July 6, 2009 at 4:41 pm
Just got the update of your M-I-L’s passing. Words just can’t express. *hugs*
ben said,
July 7, 2009 at 2:50 am
Thanks everyone.
She died yesterday (Sunday) morning. She didn’t suffer, there was no pain… at least not for her.
Today we made funeral arrangements. We are now officially grownups. I don’t like being a grownup.
The service will be on Thursday which also happens to be our 21st anniversary. Happy frickin’ anniversary.
LOTGK said,
July 8, 2009 at 4:40 pm
My condolences to you Brenda and your husband and family. I watched my father pass away in December, in much the same manner. Looking on helpless, sad, praying for a miracle. He died looking into my eyes. It was devastating, but you are your husband are strong, and you both will get through the passing.
Bitzky said,
July 9, 2009 at 6:03 pm
My deepest condolences
I don’t know what else to say, I never went through something like this 
krissie said,
July 9, 2009 at 10:25 pm
*hugs* I’m so sorry to hear about your MIL lovey
I’m glad she passed quicker than they said, surrounded by her loved ones, and that she didn’t suffer in the end. Many hugs and loving thoughts to you and your family xxx
Deej said,
July 10, 2009 at 2:23 am
I am so sorry to hear about this, Brenda. My heart goes out to all of you.