Some of you may remember that I moved my mother from San Diego to an assisted living facility in Texas almost three years ago. About a month ago, she started fading, nothing wrong with her, no cancer, no broken bones, but yesterday morning she passed away. She was 93 and was a troubled, unhappy person most of her life. The last couple of weeks she was hanging on by a thread, not in pain, not medicated, lucid when she was awake, so it was what people call a “good death.” Sadly, and unlike others here who have told of deceased parents, I’m not likely to miss her as she was not much a part of my life. But I did right by her in these last three years and was a good and dutiful daughter.
I wasn’t with her when she died, because I was having a mammogram. I was in my gown waiting to be called when I got a voicemail from The Home to call and I did and the nurse (one I really like) told me. So I went in for my mammogram and the radiologist said she wanted more pictures. Fine. Three years ago almost to the day, I was diagnosed with breast cancer (IDC) on the left side and had a lumpectomy. Yesterday after they take more films, they take me into a room with a table and sofas and I know the news is not good. When the news is good, they tell you in the hallway. The radiologist comes in and starts to beat around the bush, and I said, “Can we cut to the chase–you want a biopsy, right?” And she said yes, on the right side. Fuck.
I’m having it Thursday morning.
She was very nice and almost apologetic about possibly being too cautious, but I said, no, it’s fine. Be cautious. You should be cautious, especially given my history. She said that she has had breast cancer. (Hell, these days, who hasn’t?)
So this morning I went with a friend to the funeral home to ID my mother. I’ve mentioned that I’m an only child with no children and no partner. It’s been hard having no one to spell me or even to pass the ball to. The ID was not distressing or traumatic at all. The funeral home has a room set up like a bedroom with lamps and knick knacks and sheets on the bed and her lying there tucked under a pretty quilt with her head on a pillow. Nothing like the TV shows where it happens in a clinical/lab setting. She looked very peaceful and, frankly, better than she has looked for the last two weeks. Even though I made and paid for all the arrangements two months ago, I still had to sign a million forms, and then my friend took me to lunch.
And it’s only Tuesday.
If I have to go through surgery again and radiation I can do it, but I’d sure rather not. I’ll report back.
Hoping for the best tomorrow.