Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I really thought that I would post earlier than this but I have been so busy. When I get home from work I feel guilty if Dave is up waiting for me and all I want to do is hop on the computer. Also my moms been around a bunch and I don't want her to read what I write because I really don't want to hurt her feelings. She spends a lot of time telling me how sorry she is that all of this has happened. We all are but it doesn't change here and now. All we can do is move forward.
My mom had her first chemo a week ago this past Friday. She was fine Friday and Saturday during the day but by Saturday night the pain from the chemo had set in her legs and she was in great pain. (This only happens to a small percentage of people and my mom always seems to be part of it.) By Sunday she could only get to the bathroom and back. We had to double her morphine and she had to take more narcotics for break through pain. Monday was even worse and on top of that her arm just kept getting bigger. (From the lymphodema) This meant that we had to bring her everything she needed. Up and down the stairs we all trucked. We didn't dare to all leave the house and leave her alone in case something happened. So Dave and I took turns. It was very stressful. I'm not sure if you guys know this but I'm VERY sarcastic. It's how I deal. By Monday night I was so tired and when I got home from work it was 11 pm. Dave said my mom wanted me and I told him I should have pushed her down the stairs while I had a chance. Then I promptly started to cry, because let's face it. Who says that shit? Me, I do. All the time. Poor Dave, he started to laugh as he said, 'Melissa!" He knew that I didn't mean it like I want to push her down the stairs and kill her. It would just be quicker and less painful than suffering. Which she is doing.
Tuesday morning rolled around and when I brought my mom up some breakfast she complained about her arm and said she thought she felt better. I was relieved but I didn't look at her arm. I was excited. It was nice out and I was on a roll getting the kids started on school work and Dane coloring. When I went back downstairs Idid the dishes and had started folding laundry when my mom beeped me with the phone and told me she was going to the physical therapist to have her arm worked on because it hurt her. I said, "When?" and she said, "Now, I have to be there in an hour." She than said, "I will drive myself and hung up on me." Let me tell you I was livid!! She hasn't been downstairs since Saturday she could still barely walk. She thought she could drive herself. Also her skin was so gray. (A few weeks ago she didn't tell me she had an appointment and left the house without telling me and I had to figure out on a moments notice and get to where she was to drive her back because she should NOT be driving. Paula had to drive me to the hospital and drop me off and bring the kids home and stay with them.) I knew I'd have to call Paula and because our new Fairpoint Communications (who suck donkey dick) had accidentally disconnected her phone in January and everyday since then given her the run around, we have to either go to her house or take a cell phone to her. I had to shower and plan lunch for the kids. How bad can her frigging arm be? You guys have no idea how pissed I was. I just wanted to be home. I sent the kids running for Paula and cried as I finished folding laundry. When my mom came downstairs she looked bad. I really thought she was going to die soon, like that day. She was sooo gray. I thought she doesn't have 5 years, she doesn't have a month. She asked me to help her put her shirt on and that's when I almost pooped my pants. Her arm was the size of 4 very large men's. It was red and raw. She couldn't bend it and her hand was so swollen that her fingers looked like sausages right before they burst. I schooled my face to not show shock but I was shocked right to the tips of my toes.