DISSEMINATION 8/18/17
Megan V. has given us the second offering of Human Remains content since my hiatus from writing weekly Disseminations began at the beginning of the summer.
In this first contribution she explores the recent death of her mother this past Spring. As Death is our archetype, I thought that it was pertinent for the Member who’d most recently been in it’s presence to give some of their insight.
When I decided that I’d be taking a hiatus I offered the open space from June through October when I will return to anyone within the collective that wished to contribute. The only person I had in mind at that time that I was certain I wanted to contribute was Megan, so it made me quite happy when she inevitably got ahold of me first to offer a writing about her mother.
Having known Megan during the struggle of losing her mother and seeing how she dealt with it, (including the giant all day party her father and she threw at the family home in her honor that my wife and I attended to witness first hand), I knew that Megan had likely just come out of this ordeal with the perspective that only those who’ve had true communion with Death can understand.
When speaking to her about writing this, although I offered a bit of insight to what I’d seen come out of her ordeal from the outside, I did not insist that she follow any guidelines; only to write and create and experience the catharsis that was waiting for her and to share it with us if she wanted to afterward.
So now that I’m running the risk of overshadowing her piece with a much too lengthy introduction, I’ll recede back into the shadows once again and leave you to her words.
Throdle Vieda!
Sean David Stoltenburg
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DEATH, RETOUCHED
Death changes you, the way you perceive the world, and how you express yourself. How could it not leave an imprint on you…to lose someone who is so vital to who you are. Grief isn’t a phase you go through it’s something you learn to endure. Grief’s progression can’t be measured in a linear pattern, one day you feel better that you managed to make it a day without crying, and the very next day you’re on the floor sobbing completely lost. My timeline will forever be divided into two periods, life with mom and life without her.
My whole world was completely turned upside down in a matter of moments. As I look back I never before realized how oblivious I was to death. I was young when I lost my grandparents, but for whatever reason I forgot the sting of watching a love one decline in their health. I was too young, I never fully understood death. As an adult and a professional in the medical field it was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. To watch my healthy active mom deteriorate right before my eyes, and to know exactly what each new symptom represents. It seems so extremely cruel to watch this downward spiral, ignorance is bliss but knowledge was terrifying in this case.
To give you real perspective I have to give you insight into my life, and my relationship with my mom. My dad served in the U.S. Army Special Forces, so he was often gone on secret missions. So when my dad was gone my mom was my one consistent lifeline. We were stationed far from family, so when he was gone it was just my mom, big brother, and I. She was the person I would go to for everything; I needed her advice and support. I had many obstacles to overcome in my life, from a learning disability, to physical abuse and sexual assault from an ex-boyfriend, to major health issues. She was always by my side through the hardest times, she was my rock. When my health issues started she was always there for every admission, procedure, and infusion. She was my strength during the roughest flare up, and when I woke up in pain before even getting out of bed she was the reason I got up and carried on. I can truly say she played such a vital role in who I am, and what I stand for. She was my world and my safe haven from this life.
I was at my chemo infusion in the beginning of January of this year, while my mom was being admitted to Geisinger Medical Center. She was complaining of shortness of breath, and abdominal pain. During the medical work up a CAT scan was done, it showed multiple lung clots and two masses in her abdomen. They told my parents in the ER that it looks like stage 4 cancer, but they didn’t want to tell me until my infusion was done. The minute the infusion was done I tracked down my parents, and she got assigned to an SCU bed. The doctor came in shortly afterwards, and he was a doctor I’ve worked with on my own floor. He seemed very gentle when greeting me, and then he turned to my parents and asked if I knew yet. My heart felt like it was going to explode, I knew in the pit of my stomach it was cancer based on the test results.
When he said the words I was completely shell shocked, I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t breathe, and everything was out of focus. My world was completely dismantled in an instant, but I knew I needed to be strong for her. She was going to be discharged to go home with a hospital bed and home health assistance, and she need to take two weeks to recover from the pulmonary clots before meeting up with the oncology team. At that two week follow up appointment we would discuss realistically if she was healthy enough to attempt chemo and would it even be worth it.
As the appointment approached it became apparent that she was too unhealthy to attempt chemo. I will always remember the heaviness going into the doctor’s office; I already knew the bleak outcome from my medical experience but to finally have it confirmed by her oncologist. He told us she had 1-6 months without chemo and maybe 7-10 months with the chemo. Hearing these words destroyed me, I just went numb, and all I could do was stare at a fixed point on the wall so I wouldn’t completely meltdown. I was managing up until she turned towards me and attempted to smile. I instantly broke down into a sob and my brother and dad hated seeing my pain and in reaction they broke down too. She turned to her doctor and said “I’m not worried about me; I’m worried about how devastated they’ll be.”
We decided as a family that to proceed with chemo would be a waste of valuable time. We went ahead and set up hospice at my parents’ house. We set the hospital bed up in her library, surrounded by the books she loved, family photos and all her plants and flowers. I needed to be there as much as I possibly could be; I was able to get FMLA to help take care of her. I was angry and terrified that this was happen to her, it didn’t seem fair. One of my own battles was setting aside that anger so I could be present with her. We had many long discussions leading up to her death, and I treasure everyone. She sat me down and told me what it was like when she lost her own mom, and how she felt afterwards. We talked about her favorite part of living, and what she’ll miss the most. She made me promise her that I wouldn’t give up on my dream of having a child just because she couldn’t be by my side for the journey. I often just crawled up into her hospital bed and snuggled her as long as she could handle it.
I got to witness her come to terms with her life ending, and how she was preparing herself for the transition. Her strength was unbelievable, and to watch her come terms in such a peaceful matter was truly amazing to watch. We did have some difficult talks about the reality of situation, and that she was progressing faster than we imagined. I remember telling her that the miracle I was praying for was that she passed away in her sleep, and that she was actively dying but I promised her I would stay by her side. At the end it was heart breaking to see her in so much pain, refusing to eat or drink, to watch her get confused and scared, and break down into tears. Those last few days left a scarring impression, and I find myself replaying my last moments with her. I remember her last day which happens to be my dad’s birthday. I was holding her hand and she was in and out of consciousness, but I just kept telling her to let go. She died in the middle of that night, she was a strong willed woman, and I truly believe she waited until his birthday had passed before letting go.
The minute the reality of death hits you the world around you seems to change. I instantly didn’t care about the stupid mundane things that had tripped me up before, in comparison none of that mattered. Death had this weird affect that, until I lost someone so vital to me I felt like I had nothing to lose, and that I was finally open to living in the present moment. I’ve noticed that we seem to put things off thinking we have time and that death isn’t near. The truth is you can die at any moment, and why would you delay anything when your time is so valuable. Why would you wait for a death sentence to start living?
Put down the phone, stop living through social media and actually experience something. Don’t let the 10 minutes of crap you dealt with in the day ruining your whole impression of the day. When time is so valuable don’t let something so minor have such an effect on you. I’m trying to live my life to the fullest for her, to honor her battle. To experience everything this world has to offer and to live to the fullest and by doing so I’m honoring her memory and she’s living within me. I just ask that you stand for something, make your presence in this world known, and live your life with a purpose.
-Megan V.
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