Last night at 12:15 am, my nightstand telephone rang. And rang, waking me from a sound sleep. I answered, my chest tight with dread. My mother has been fighting Pancreatic Cancer for nearly two years (she was diagnosed October 11, 2011) She has survived a botched endoscope where they tore her small intestine, gallbladder removal and surgery to repair her intestine, two surgeries to insert stints to carry away waste, two rounds of chemotherapy, septic shock from which her survival chance was 20 percent, and has been under hospice care at home since early July.
Her significant other called me to tell me she'd called 911. My mother was taken to the hospital. I tried to go back to sleep as there was no way I could drive to east Dallas in the middle of the night - not only had I taken Melatonin, but my night time med also make me sleepy. But I couldn't. I was up until 3, when finally I was able to clear my head to sleep a little until I got up for good at 6.
I drove out there this morning. She's in ICU, has a blood clot on her heart, and a tumor on her liver that has caused it to swell. She has a fever and her organs have begun to shut down. She can barely breathe, though she told me she has no pain. She can't talk, and can barely keep her eyes open. They kicked us out of ICU saying they had limited visiting hours and only two people were allowed at a time. (My husband, me, her significant other, and my two brothers.) This was probably for the best as she needs to rest.
I fear her time has come. After so much suffering, her battle-scarred body can finally rest.
I whispered in her ear that it would be okay to go home when she is ready. She misunderstood and told me there was no way they'd let her go home now. This broke my heart too.
I am trying to finish my book, and it is very difficult to concentrate. I'm waiting - and dreading - the next phone call.