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Monday, March 2, 2009


My mother has a brain tumor.  There's no easy way to say it and certainly there was no easy way to hear it.  My mother delivered the news to me herself: I am sorry for that.  My mother's next door neighbor, Karinna, was supposed to tell me but I tracked my mother down at the hospital sooner than she expected.  

Karinna called about an hour after she rode in the ambulance to the hospital with my mother.  She said my mother was lucid and joking around and that it looked like she may have had a mini-stroke.  My mother has Afib, a heart condition that can lead to a stroke so this has been a concern for some time.  I was not surprised, but I wasn't happy either.  Karinna couldn't find the key to my mother's house so she had her sixteen-year-old son break in.  They found my mother on the floor and it was pretty scary but help arrived quickly.  They didn't even bring a coat for my mother, they moved so fast.  

Karinna asked me to call her house and tell her son that my mother was stable.  An answering machine picked up and I thanked Dylan for breaking and entering.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I rambled into the machine.  

Karinna stayed with my mother so my mother wasn't alone when she found out she had a brain tumor.  The hospital who'd done the CAT scan didn't have a neurologist so my mother was transferred to another hospital.  I tracked her down early this morning and they connected me to her room.  When my mother asked me if I'd spoken to Karinna, I should have known it was worse than I thought but I still fell apart when she told me.  My poor Mom, suffering with her own brain tumor and me, a basket case.

Ten years ago, a close friend of my mother's died from a brain tumor and my mother was with her when she died.  It wasn't pretty and I'm sure that's what's going through her head right now.  We don't know anything yet so I'm trying not to jump to any conclusions.  I'm probably going to head to Jersey later this week to be the point man so my mother doesn't have to be the only one receiving information.  I'm a bit snowed in at the moment and I need to get Eliza's care in order.  This will be the first trip I take without my daughter.  I need her and I will miss her but she doesn't need to be hanging around the hospital with me.  She's better off in school, with her father.

I can't stop shaking.  Last night I stood in Eliza's room while she slept and wished so much I could climb into bed with her and hold her.  But I didn't want to wake her so I just stood perfect still and listened to her breathe while I stared at the spooky blue glow of her nightlight.  I felt like a little girl, alone, shaking, terrified of the dark.


Bethany said...

Oh my goodness. I am so sorry, how incredibly scary. I will be praying for your family, especially your mom. I'm not usually a commenter here, but felt like I needed to say something. Prayers headed your way!

Cholly said...

Long time reader...My thoughts and prayers are with you. She needs you and I think you need her. I am so sorry.

Sharon said...

I am so very sorry. You and your mom will be in my thoughts and prayers.