It is currently Friday, July 10, 2009. Back in March, she had been diagnosed with lung and brain cancer. It was metastasized, which means that the cancer had spread. It had originated in her lungs, and then traveled to the brain. She'd had it for a few years supposedly, undetected. We were told that if she weren't to do anything about it, her life expectancy would be around six months. She went through radiation treatments, and finished those in April, and shortly after, by not even a few days, she went back into the hospital for the same reason that landed us there in the first place; fluid buildup in the brain tumor. After a few days and another brain surgery, she was allowed home again. She was never really quite the same after that second visit. It was almost as if a piece of her was already dead. But we were still trying to keep her functional.
This past Monday, which was July 6, 2009, we took her into the hospital because she was showing signs that the fluid buildup in the brain tumor was coming back. After a day of testing, they saw nothing wrong with the head (which was the only place they examined), they sent us home saying everything was alright. They had given her and inhaler for some emphysema issues, and that helped her breath for a few hours.
The next day, Tuesday, which was July 7, 2009, she was showing no signs of improvement, and she couldn't even walk to the bathroom on her own. Her entire body had gotten so weak, and early Wednesday (July 8, 2009), she begged us to take her back,m because she was having a really hard time breathing.
When we got her there, they got her back ASAP, since her heart rate (which is how many times your heart beats per minute) was around 200. The normal heart rate of a healthy person is 90 to 100. They quickly got that heart rate down using a medicine, but they decided the should check her heart out to see what had caused such a high heart rate. (Keep in mind, my mother had a very strong heart. No heart diseases, beat strongly during surgeries, no problems. Even the doctors had been surprised at how well her heart had been doing to this point.)
After doing ex-rays of the chest and doing a heart echo (which is like a sonogram, which they use on pregnant women to see the baby in the womb. Only this was to see her heart.) Her heart was beating strong, but it was constricted by an insanely large amount of fluid that was surrounding the heart nearly all the way around. There was also some fluid in the lungs, but it wasn't too much, and they were way more worried about the fluid around the heart.
My father and I have a theory that the radiation caused this fluid to appear. Radiation is meant to kill cells, mainly cancer cells. When the cells are killed, they turn into fluid, and since this is happening in the body cavity, and not somewhere where the fluid could get out of the body, it was stuck. It had no way to absorb into the body, and so it gathered together at the closest place it could, ending up around her heart (the lung cancer was up near her heart to start with). This is just a theory, though. We don't know what caused the fluid by doctor's standards.
She was taken into the ICU (Intensive Care Unit--the place where seriously injured, seriously sick, and the people coming out of intense surgery go--) directly from the ER. When we got there, her assigned doctor was there to explain that she only had a few days. Back in the ER, the doctors told us it was a simple procedure to get the fluid out, and so we were not expecting that this was going to be the end of her life. Basically, they drained the fluid, and then slowly, making sure she was comfortable using tons of meds, they put her to rest. This process took about a day and a half.
You have no idea what it is like sitting there in a hospital room, holding the limp cold hand of your mother, watching as her life stats on the screen above slowly diminish. It was the hardest thing I had to do in my life so far, and I bet you anything nothing will ever be harder for even the rest of my life. She couldn't even wake up enough to say goodbye to me. She knew she was going. I knew she could hear me... I would say I love you, and she would nod ever so slightly. The last thing she said to me was about a letter she'd wrote to me, a letter she wanted me to find and read. I still have yet to do that. I think it will take me a while before I can start searching.
So, if I'm not on Gaia as much as I used to be, this is why. We're taking a trip to the coast--my father and I--and then we're moving up to Forks, Washington. I will send apologies to everyone I am currently roleplaying with. I am in no place in my head to roleplay, even the happiest of stuff. Hopefully, they will understand. Even if they don't, I don't care. It's easy to find another RP partner.
Currently I am very numb and in shock. When I got home, I took a few Ativan's, which were pains meds/stomach relaxer/relaxer's and so right now I'm acting and talking just like a robot. And that is okay. Everyone copes in their own way. This is mine. I kind of want to die.
