Leaving Home

 Thursday night, my mother left home for perhaps the last time. 

She said she didn't want to die in front of me and asked to go to the hospital, eventually landing in room 410. 

Friday night, she begged to leave the hospital to go home. She couldn't remember where her home was but she wanted to be in the comfort of her own home. She begged.

Friday during the day we learned she has about 20 nodules growing inside her lungs -- it is uncertain if any are cancerous ... and at her age, they won't do any biopsies. She is going to die.

Friday morning we visited a nursing home for her to move into. It's new construction and seems friendly -- but she can't move in for three days. The hospital may release her in two days, though, meaning she would have to come to our home for about 36 hours at the least. I don't know how to emotionally handle this anymore.

Friday evening the person in room 412 had a steady flow of family members visiting, laughing, and socializing. My mother asked where her family was, why they weren't there and when they were coming. We had to tell her nobody was coming ... it was just us. She became angry. I cried.

Friday evening she asked me to pay the medical bills of everyone there -- all the people on that floor that the nurses were so busy helping. I told her I would pay what I could. She asked me to pay the bill for her dinner (pointing to the hospital menu slip of paper) and to leave a good tip. I tried to explain they would include her dinner on the hospital bill and we didn't need to pay right now. I don't think she understood. Generous to the end.

Friday evening a family member emailed, asking to not be called when she dies. There are no words.

There are no words to express the grief I feel. My cardiologist was kind enough this week to share with me takotsubo cardiomyopathy. Now, as my heart breaks, my mind slips into fear.

p.s. As the paramedics were loading my mother into the ambulance, I got a heartbreaking email from another family member in crisis. I quickly sent an economic bandaid, but haven't processed how to help. If we grow stronger through our trials, then we shall be stronger.

p.p.s. On Monday, the day I likely have to move my mother into a nursing home, I have to put on a smiling face and entertain some youth in our video production and radio studios. Then I do it again the next day for four groups of middle schoolers.