Day 93 - 94: Momentous Occasion

Exactly 2 months ago today, I was sitting at mom and dad's house waiting for the Hospice delivery people to arrive with a hospital bed, a portable commode, a walker and wheelchair. It was so hard to watch them bring all that in to my parent's comfortable home. I was struck by how much had changed and how fast.

I never could have imagined that two months later, all those things would be moved OUT of mom and dad's home because mom just didn't need them. But that's exactly what happened yesterday.

Hospice is visiting my mom once every two weeks now. That's it. From 4 visits a week, down to 1 visit every other week. At last week's visit, the nurse asked mom and dad if they were interested in getting all their equipment out of the house and they quickly answered "Yes!". They didn't know they could have it removed. But two days later, it was all gone and mom and dad have their house back!

They now have both their chairs back in their living room instead of just one. Dad gave up his for mom. Now they both have their places back. :-) They don't have a hospital bed staring them in the face every day. That is so incredible! I often felt like that hospital bed was just staring at all of us, constantly warning us that things wouldn't always be this good.

But now it's gone and I feel so relieved by that! I suppose I know that one day it will be back, but I feel it's really momentous that it is gone, for no matter how long.

Mom never used that bed and she never used the wheelchair. I think the commode was helpful for a day or two after she got home from the hospital and she used the walker a couple of times shortly after she got home as well. But that was the extent of it.

I was, again, hoping to see her today. It's Father's Day and, once again, sickness keeps us home. Jonathan has been sick for over a week now. I think he is FINALLY on the other side of this thing, but 3 hours in a car today just wasn't something he could do. Mom and dad completely understood and they are going to go up to Bellingham to spend some time with my brother and sister-in-law so that will be good.

Once Jonathan is well, the boys and I will make a trip up with our chocolate cake and birthday and Father's Day cards and celebrate it all at once.

Spring was really tough for our family. And on this first day of Summer, I have renewed hope that things will be improving. My last post was filled with self pity and I was in a bit of a dark place that tends to sneak up on me now and then. Looking back and realizing that it has been 94 days since my mom's diagnosis is kind of surreal. It was 2 days before the first day of Spring. So much has taken place in 94 days. I guess it makes sense that my family would spend the last 6 weeks that time being sick after the events of the 6 weeks prior. But I'm looking at today as a new beginning. It's Summer now. It's a new season. It's time for good things to be happening.

I'll admit that I'm still upset about not making RENT yesterday, but was glad a friend was able to buy the tickets from me and was able to enjoy them. My client birthed Friday night into Saturday morning and Jonathan slept through it all. It was a quick, wonderful birth. I was with them for the birth of their first baby 19 months ago and it was a joy to be able to share in the birth of their 2nd as well. They have never found out the gender of their children and that's rare these days so it's extra fun when you spend time wondering whether or a little boy or a little girl is about to arrive. Little Sophia was born into the world at 4:18am on June 20th. It's a miracle every time I see it happen.

I see those miracles all the time. I see the birth of a new human being over and over and every time it is miraculous to me. Yet, I have been unable to believe that my family could have received our own miracle. I wonder why that is? Maybe because birth seems like such an everyday miracle (is there such a thing?) but relief from cancer seems unheard of. Of course, none of us believe mom's cancer is gone. But we really have been given the gift of time. And that really has been our own little miracle.

As Spring began, my life was falling apart. The flowers were blooming. We were coming out of a long, cold, wet winter here in the Pacific NW, but my life seemed colder and darker than it had ever seemed. And now, Summer has begun. I'm hoping for a summer filled with family and fun. I've banished all colds/flus/sickness from my home! I planted flower pots out front for the first time in my life (with enormous help from my wonderful friend Shannon). I'm not a green thumb in any way. But this year those flowers hold special meaning for me. I'm keeping them alive. They are beautiful. I know Fall and Winter will come and they will be gone. But next year, they will bloom again.

That's life I guess. There is light and there is dark. You can't truly see the light without having spent some time in the dark. The trick is to remember, while in the darkness, that light will return again. It's a lesson I continue to learn.

I find it interesting how I still fall apart at random times. Of course, I was sleep deprived yesterday but as I drove into my fuel stop, otherwise known as Starbucks, on may way home from the birth, the song "Somebody's Hero" by Jamie O'Neal came on the radio. I've always found that song beautiful, but as the last lyrics came on, the tears starting falling as I was pulling into the drive thru.

"She's somebody's hero, A hero to her mother in a rockin' chair, She runs a brush through her silver hair, The envy of the nursing home, She drops by every afternoon, Feeds her mama with a spoon, And that smile lets her know, Her mother's smile lets her know, She's somebody's hero".

Three months ago, I was feeding my mom with a spoon in the hospital, her hair thinned by chemo and locks of it spread about her pillow as it continued to fall out. I wouldn't call myself her hero in anyway, but the song is about the little things in life that make us all heroes. I know the day I found myself feeding my mom, it changed my life. I grew up that day in a way that I was unprepared for, but also in a way that was necessary to handle what was about to come.

I know that there will be dark times again. I know one day I will find myself feeding my mom with a spoon again. I know I will still hurt, deeply. But the time we have been given now has given us all time for joy. Time to acknowledge the reality of death. Time to prepare, although knowing that you can never fully prepare. I know I will never be ready. But I know that roles have changed. My parents see me as someone they can trust and count on now. They see me as a grown woman, not so much their little girl anymore. A year ago, I still called them with questions. Today, they call me. Today they call and share their triumphs with me as I used to with them. And I get to hear the joy in their voices when my mom shares how happy she is to be returning to church and how so many people came up to wish her back. I hear my mom and dad laugh over simple and silly things in their lives that now hold so much more meaning. And yesterday, I heard how exuberant they were over saying goodbye to a unneeded hospital bed as it left their home.

As summer begins, I am accepting and appreciating the small miracle that has taken place in my family. The sun is shining, the flowers have bloomed, the birds are singing and the light is shining through. Three months ago, I wasn't sure how I would ever smile again. But yesterday, on the phone with my parents, I smiled a smile of complete and unending joy and gratitude.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there and Happy and Healthy Summer to everyone. May much light shine for us all!