Advocate

From our first meeting with her oncologist, she made it clear to him that we were to be informed about everything, we would help in making all decisions regarding her health.

On October 16, 2017, our mom was admitted to the hospital. From the moment she was admitted, my sister and I were constantly by her side, sleeping in a reclining chair at her bedside. From the first evening, my sister and I quickly realized that we would need to be there at all times with our mom. The nurses had attempted a procedure and my sister was thankfully there to question them regarding the necessity. We became her voice. We requested that the nurses wake us instead of her when administering any medication that was not required to be taken orally. My sister, a nurse herself, was often there during the days and was able to communicate effectively and efficiently with the medical staff; questioning tests they wanted to run and staying by our mother’s side as she went for various tests. We were there to remind the doctors, nurses, and aides (essentially anyone who was not myself or my sister) not to touch her left shoulder at all. Her left shoulder was where the cancer had spread, and the pain for her was an ever-present reminder that her body had betrayed her. It was a pain exasperated by even the slightest touch. Since she was no longer on chemotherapy the hurt associated with the cancer was coming back. We became extremely protective of our mother’s welfare. We became her protector the same way she was our protector for so many years. She deferred to us on everything.

The Infusion Center at the Cancer Institute: St Francis Hospital, 2017


After a week in the hospital, our mom was over it. She wanted to go home. Her frustration was hard to bear witness to. A woman who had been everyone’s rock and everyone’s advocate now needed that same support. She felt as though her words were falling on deaf ears and relied even more so on my sister and me to relay her needs. My sister worked fiercely with the social worker to get my mother home. I spoke with her oncologist and expressed the need for her to return home. If any more healing was going to be done it wasn’t going to happen in a hospital room where my mom had witnessed three neighbors be admitted and discharged. I told her oncologist that staying in the hospital was not helping her emotionally, and if she was going to get physically strong enough to resume any form of treatment she needed to be home where she could also regain and strengthen her emotional health.

She was finally discharged on October 31, 2017. That in and of itself was a test of mental, emotional, physical and any type of strength you could call on. But she was home and that was what was most important. During her time home, meeting with case managers and visiting nurses, we still remained our mother’s advocate. Speaking up when she could not, letting others know what made her uncomfortable and what brought her peace.

It brings me back to the first day we received confirmation that it was cancer, my mom’s first worry was myself and my sister. She said through tears that we had just started our lives and she did not want us to spend it taking care of her. I never once looked at it that way and I told her it would be more than an honor to care for her the way she had cared so diligently for us. Was it tiring? Yes. Was it emotionally draining? Yes. But I would not trade it for anything, and I know my sister feels the same way. There is a cyclical nature of parenting and child-raising. A point where the parent becomes the child. And I am grateful that I was able to show my mom how much I appreciated her and all she did for myself and my sister. I am thankful that it was us who truly cared for her and nurtured her during her last days.

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