Kathryn’s Story

I had spent this past Mother's Day having an outdoor picnic with my mother at her parent's (my grandparents) grave site so we could "have lunch" with them. We got our favorite fried chicken, mashed potato combo meal from a local restaurant that we used to order from on Sunday's after church when we would visit my grandparents. With the pandemic and my mother living in Massachusetts while I live in Connecticut, I wasn't seeing her in person that much and ached for one of her big hugs. I quarantined in my apartment for two weeks just so I could have a hug from her on Mother's Day, and I'm so glad I did this because at the time I didn't know it would be one of the last hugs I'd receive from her. 

I knew something was wrong when I went home Memorial Day Weekend two weeks later. She looked frail, was sweating and felt nauseous, and, most notably, I noticed her speech was off. My mother was quick-witted, always had a comment for something and was equally well articulated to the point that not being able to say the word for "cabinet" was beyond upsetting for me when I asked her where the coffee mugs were. I repeatedly asked if she was okay, if we needed to call the doctor, or needed to go to the hospital, and she brushed it off saying it was the heat and she felt fine. When I went back to Connecticut on Monday, she was seemingly a bit better but formulating words was difficult for her. 

As the week went on, I noticed she was responding to my texts less and less. If I FaceTimed, which we usually did multiple times a day, she would rush to get off. When Friday came, I FaceTimed her like I usually did over my morning coffee and she was visibly sick. I told her she needed to call her doctor, and she agreed. She texted me a little while later indicating she was triaged and the doctor would call her around 2:00 PM. I sat in my apartment all day sick to my stomach with a feeling this was not good news, and was livid when the doctor hadn't called her by 3:00 PM. I quickly packed up the dogs and drove up to Massachusetts  when she asked me to come home to bring her to the hospital. 

I brought my mom to the emergency room that evening as soon as I got home. She was having a harder time speaking, and could barely articulate to the doctors what she was feeling. I sat alone in the emergency room while they brought her in, and never felt more alone in my life. Due to COVID-19, I wasn't able to go in with her and all I could do was sit and wait. I knew I wasn't bringing her back home with me and I had a sinking feeling she was never going to come home again. The doctors came out after an hour, and explained she had a tumor that was putting pressure on the part of her brain that affects speech. They said she would be admitted, and neurologists would be in touch with me after conducting a number of tests throughout the weekend. I started sobbing and begged to be let in to see her, that I was an only child to a single mom and I needed a few minutes with her. Thankfully, the attending nurse snuck me into her room so I could say hello. 

My mother sat happily on her bed, and greeted me with a warm smile. I started crying, and she rubbed my hand and said, "Please don't cry, I'm going to be just fine." I was a little startled by her saying this and asked if she knew what was going on. She said yes, and said she understood she had a tumor and they would be running tests to determine the next course of action. She shrugged it off like it wasn't a big deal. To this day, I'm still floored at how calm she was. I don't know if she was remaining calm for my sake, or if she really wasn't concerned - either way, she was calm and un-phased just rubbing my hand. I squeezed her one last time in a hug as I left the room to go get her some belongings from her house. That was the last time I saw her alive in person.

The next day, after I brought the hospital a bag for her with her phone, charger, slippers, and a Hillary Clinton book, we FaceTimed a few times. She didn't understand why I wasn't coming to visit her, and I had to explain that due to COVID-19 I wasn't allowed in the hospital. I assured her I was calling the nurses station for updates (which I had been doing since about 7 AM because I couldn't sleep), I found and paid all the bills, I talked to Patty (her favorite and beloved cousin who was an ER Nurse), neighbors were bringing me food, and her dog Henry was well loved. I also fixed her broken toilet and bought groceries. She seemed relieved that things were being taken care of, and was sounding much better with the anti-swelling medication she was on. After talking to doctors, her cousin and I began plotting to move my mom to a hospital in Connecticut so she'd be with family. The last time I FaceTimed my mom was Saturday night, and her speaking was the best it had sounded all week. She clearly articulated what she had for dinner. She could verbalize what the doctors were saying about her tumor and the tests they were going to be running. She sassed me about fixing the toilet when it "was fine" (it was not fine, the handle was broken and you had to pull the chain in the tank to flush). We ended the call saying I love you, and I went to bed a little more at ease. 

Until 2 AM when a doctor from the ICU called saying my mom had a seizure and coded. They worked on her for almost fifteen minutes reviving her. The doctor told me I needed to come to the hospital immediately, and they would let me into the ICU so I could say goodbye. 

At that point, I barely remember driving to the hospital and going to the ICU with a security guard. I just sat numb in the waiting room until the doctor came out and gave me a hug. I had to sign some paperwork to not revive her if she codes again. And I was numb. It was 2:30 AM and I was making decisions about my mother's life when I had never imagined I'd be doing so. Never in my life did I feel so alone and helpless. Eventually, I worked up the energy to go into her room to say goodbye. I looked in the room and saw my mother hooked up to the machines, and I knew she wasn't there anymore. I called her cousin, who immediately hopped in her car and drove up to Massachusetts. I called my long distance boyfriend and asked him to fly out today. 

It was a really cold morning as I drove back home. I hugged her dog and my dog, and sat outside on the front porch waiting for her cousin. I watched the sunrise. I watched the deer wander through the yards. I watched the early morning runners (seriously though - who runs at 4:00 AM?). I watched the world wake up when my mother had just gone unconscious. Her cousin assured me she was in a blissful sleep and in no pain. I knew then my mother wasn't coming back. I never told anyone this because we did receive some good news on her recovery initially, and I had an ounce of hope. But when I walked out of that emergency room that night, I knew I was going to become a motherless daughter in the coming days. 

The following days were a whirlwind of waiting games, preparing for various scenarios, takeout meals with my mom's cousin and my boyfriend, and talking to doctors. We FaceTimed her on the emergency room iPad (thank you to the staff who accommodate this) and chatted with her. A couple times her dog, Henry, got out and took off through the neighborhood - we think he was looking for his mommy. Then Wednesday we received the news. Her prognosis was not good and she was never going to be able to recover. She had stage four cancer in her lungs that progressed to her brain and caused the tumor. In addition, the tumor caused the seizure and when she coded, she suffered a lot of brain damage to the point parts of her brain had died. Even if she miraculously woke up, she was not going to be the same. 

My mother always told me she did not want to be a vegetable, and that if something were to happen to her that would result in this that I needed to let her go. It wasn't a hard decision to make per her wishes but it was the hardest decision of my life to say out loud with signing the paperwork to remove her from the machines. Her cousin and I stayed with her in the hospital for about 20 hours before she passed away peacefully around 6:30 AM on Friday, June 5, 2020. I'm grateful we were able to be with her so she didn't die alone. I'm grateful for the nursing staff in the ICU and palliative care who brought us coffee and warm blankets. I'm grateful I got to lay next to her and hold her hand until she passed away. 

My boyfriend was at the house with the dogs while we were staying with her in the hospital. I called him around 6:45 AM to say she passed away, and he told me the strangest story that gave him the feeling she had passed away. Around 6:30 AM, when she passed away, he said he woke up suddenly and found Henry was running down the hallway to the front door. He said no matter how many times he called Henry, he was sitting at the front door wagging his tail and refused to leave. We like to think this was my mom saying goodbye to her dog and to her home. She also loved my boyfriend, and I think she was saying goodbye to him too.  

I dream about my mother a lot, and the dreams are so vivid I'm almost afraid to wake up because I don't want to lose the moment talking to her again. She visited when I got new furniture and complemented how nice it looked. She visited when I got a new phone and asked me to show her how to use it. She's visited and played with Henry. She visited when I got a Louis Vuitton bag and wouldn't stop hugging it. She visited last week when I was feeling really depressed, and squeezed me in one of her hugs to tell me everything would be okay. 

I used to FaceTime her multiple times a day, and it's particularly sad I don't have her to call when I'm having my morning coffee, crappy lunch salad, new dinner recipe I'm trying or to just tell her about my day. I'm hopeful these dreams are her way of letting me know she's okay, and giving me chances to still talk to her in some way. 

She was by far the best person to talk to, making sure everyone always felt heard and acknowledged. And I'm grateful I had the opportunity to be her daughter so I could feel heard and loved every day. Always make sure you give your loved ones a hug, your undivided attention when they're speaking, and your unconditional love. Make them feel loved the way my mom strived to make everyone around her feel loved. I know that's something I'll be trying to do the rest of my life to carry on her legacy.