There comes a time when reality sets in and you have to be honest with yourself and the people you love. You have to tell them the hard truth. The truth that no one wants to hear, the truth that no one even wants to speak.
There is no cure. There are no other options.
We’ve heard it all over and over again, but today, it was different. It was like hearing and living it for the first time. It was the first time my mom really knew what was going on. It was the first time we were all crippled by the outcome.
At first we fought. We fought hard about what reality was and what my mom was thinking was possible. I fought with her for the first time in a while. I didn’t mean to. And it hurts me that with our limited time, we got mad at each other. That’s not supposed to happen. But my mom dying when I am 24 years old isn’t supposed to happen either. Not to me, not to my mom and not to my family. This was never in our life book. This was never a chapter.
So, we fought. I fought with her because I love her so much and because I care about her so much. I am her advocate, but sometimes her worst nightmare. I tell her what she doesn’t want to hear, I make decisions she doesn’t want to make and I tell the doctors things she doesn’t want me to tell them. But, it’s all for one thing, it’s for her to have the best care.
The doctor came in today. He reinforced that chemotherapy was no longer safe, it is not an option. The chemotherapy is not working and her body isn’t tolerating it. “I’m not ready to die. I’m not ready to leave my family.” Those words she said, gave me a feeling of a knife stabbing me. I tried to stay strong, for her and for my dad. But, I can no longer be the rock everyone thinks I am. I can no longer sit there and be strong for everyone else, while my world is crashing down. It’s crashing and there is no way to stop it. My worst nightmare is coming true.
We sat there. Whitney (the best big sister, maid of honor, best friend) sat there and helped bring comfort in a time of distress. She sat there, next to me, rubbing my back. She was there for the hardest conversation. And for that I am eternally grateful.
My mom asked what’s next? And, the answer to the question – she gets to decide – to come home or go to inpatient hospice. It’s her choice. She controls this. And no matter what she decides my dad and I will be there by her side; spending the most time with her as possible, as we go through the worst thing possible.
We have a couple weeks to a month or a little more at most. I knew this, but when it was said it felt like a dream, a bad dream. It couldn’t possibly be true. How can this happen to the woman who I look up to, who I call mom, who I run to for everything?
She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to leave us. She’s not ready for this. I can’t even imagine what it feels like for her. She’s being told she’s dying and she doesn’t want to. She wants to live. She wants to be with us.
So, we’re here. We’re at this place in time and it sucks. It’s a living hell. It’s never going to be the same. It’s not going to be okay. Because, I’m 24 years old and I still have so much I need my mom for. I still have so much to share with her. And, because my parent’s just celebrated 25 years of marriage and my dad needs her. We need her.
Life isn’t fair.