One of The Bad Ones

I remember early on, when my mom first got sick, everyone told us "there will be good days and bad days". In those initial days, (which were filled with my mom gasping for air, scared, mad, confused and lost), I couldn't see how there could ever be another good day for the rest of my life. But, the cancer quickly responded to the chemo, and I got my mom back. Actually, a new and better version of my mom. She had a new lease on life. It was wonderful. But, still, there were days that were not so good. The days she wouldn't eat--those were bad days. The days her body ached so badly that she couldn't get out of bed--those were bad days. The first scan that the cancer stopped shrinking--that was a bad day. The first day of radiation--that was a bad day. The first ER trip--that was a bad day. The day her hair got noticeably thinner--that was a bad day. The day the cancer started growing--that was a bad day. The day we realized the cancer didn't respond at all to the second type of chemo--that was a bad day. The day they told us that after 3 chemo attempts, the odds were not on our side--that was a bad day. The day she said "no more"--that was a bad day. Well, you get the point....There were lots of bad days. I guess, when I heard that line, I thought it referred to the health of the patient only. I didn't know that caregivers, too, have good and bad days. But, right along side her, I ached (my heart), I cried, I was scared....and I fought with all my heart and soul. I lost her anyway.

Today, my new position on the Relay for Life Committee, carried me to a familiar place: Jefferson Medical, my mom's old cancer clinic. The last time I walked in those doors, was when my mom declared she was done with chemo. It is a day that will be forever burned into my memory. When I pulled in the parking lot, an array of emotions washed over me. I saw us walking in laughing. I saw us holding hands and making plans for after her appointment. I saw the HUGE smile on her face as she walked out from having the poison pumped into her body, and discovered me and the girls waiting on her. I saw "us". And...It...Killed...Me...

Not so long ago (a good day)

 

Today--(a bad day)

The clinic has changed a bit inside. But, I noticed the same friendly faces behind the desk. I looked past the desk and I saw me and mom sitting in the chairs waiting to be called back. We were talking about the girls. My heart pounded in my throat as I stood there unintentionally reminiscing, so I quickly headed back out. Chills ran up and down my body as I walked that sidewalk that she and I traveled so many times. Before I made it to my car, my heart was racing and my eyes were watering. I tried to keep my composure for my girls. But, before I realized it, I was headed to the cemetery. My car was making it's own decisions, it seemed. I was silent, completely lost in thought. What thought, I am not exactly sure. My brain was just consumed with her. My heart was overwhelmed with an excruciating ache. When I arrived, I left the girls in the car, because if the tears forcing their way out of my eyes on the way there was any indicator, it wasn't going to be good for them to see. It wasn't. As I approached the stone that marked my mother's grave, and my eyes fell upon her name that was carved so skillfully within it, I hit my knees. I cried so hard, that I think I alarmed some folks that were walking by. I didn't care. I couldn't stop. I was thinking about her smile. Her voice. Her hug. Suddenly, that claustrophobic feeling was becoming too much to bear. I walked swiftly to my car. Once again, on a mission without realizing it. My next stop, perhaps to further torture myself, was her house. I mean, Ronnie's house. I walked in and cut the corner,  and headed down the hall. My body was listening to some part of me that was not my mind. My mind was lost somewhere in the sadness of the past. I sniffled all the way into her bedroom. I stood there in the dark. I cried so hard, I lost my breath. I kept saying "I want you back! I want you back!". I guess there was part of me that thought she might say something. She might give me something... anything... I walked in her closet and sat down on the floor. I begged her to come back. I pleaded. But, there was nothing. No response. No sign. No mama. My heart was shattered. Then I saw her suitcase. I angrily jerked it up and tore through it looking at receipts and ticket stubs and nothingness....I was shaking and frantic. I was searching for something...I still don't know what. I just know I didn't find it. Finally, I realized how crazy I was being. In 5 minutes flat, I had a complete and utter breakdown in my mom's old bedroom. I sat there quietly for another couple seconds to let my heart simmer down, my hands calm down, and my tears to slow down. Then, I stood up, dried my face, and as quickly as I came in, I headed back out. I walked to my car and climbed in. I heard my girls giggling and talking silly to one another. I pushed the sad thoughts out of my mind, and forced the pain out of my heart, for them...Until now. Now as I rehash it, my tears stream my face without my permission. My heart hurts, so very, very badly. I miss my mom with an urgency that I just cannot describe. In a world filled with good and bad days....This was definitely one of the bad ones.