I have been remiss about updating my blog again for the last three months, and there is a very good reason for that. About this time in March, I found out that my mother's lymphoma was terminal, and that she only had about three to six months left to live. I had mixed feelings about this news, especially when you consider the abuse that my sister and I suffered from mom. To make things even more complicated, mom told me that she was leaving everything to me.
That statement alone sent my head reeling for weeks. She was leaving everything to her son that wanted nothing to do with her over the last two years. The son who did nothing while she endured three consecutive courses of chemotherapy over the span of over a year. I've kept my distance for a reason, my own mental health. Prolonged contact with mom frequently brought up too many bad memories, and it didn't help that mom has spent the last twenty years in a benzodiazepine induced fog, trying to forget everything from the past. Mom had slipped into a victim mentality, which something I absolutely had zero tolerance for because of all the abuse she gave me. For many years, I was absolutely outraged about her behavior, and her expectation that I should feel sorry for her. This behavior became far worse after Carly's suicide, and I naturally became more, and more hostile toward mom. As we all know, events from two years ago drove me to the very edge of my sanity, and I was fortunate enough to spend six weeks in an intensive outpatient therapy program in Seattle. It was here that I learned that I have Complex PTSD, and that if I was ever going to be a whole person, I had to forgive mom. I found the courage to do just that, and my attitude toward her shifted from one of rage and hatred, to a form of sadness and pity.
I had forgiven mom, but I still needed to keep her at a distance from me to keep her from interfering with the growth processes that I was undertaking at the time. It was at this point that I decided that I would never reveal to her that I have CPTSD, because I felt that it would be too cruel for her psyche to handle. Think about it, my sister committed suicide back in 2009, an event that the abuse mom perpetrated on Carly certainly played a role in. I just couldn't tell her that I have CPTSD because of what she did to me as a child. The old me would have jumped at the chance to get any kind of revenge on mom, but the new me has far more compassion, and is more interested in my future than inflicting more wounds based on actions inflicted on me in my past.
My initial reaction to the news of mom's pending death was more than a little cold. I told myself that there was no way that I was going to take care of her in the final days and months of her life. Then she told me she was leaving everything to me, something that literally made my jaw go slack, and left me with my mouth wide open. Why would she leave everything to someone who has spent a great deal of his life trying to forget she ever existed? Because buried deep below mom's numerous problems, she still cared and loved her son, that's why. At first I was extremely wary of everything and thought it was some kind of ruse. I feared that she would hold my inheritance over my head like bait, and then proceed to revert to her old way and punish me as much as she could before she died. My friends who know me expressed the same concerns as well. Everyone told me to be very cautious, this could very well have been a trap for me (I've certainly experienced situations that seemed far more unlikely and absurd). I was very cautious for the first few months of contact with her, I would call her every other day to see how she was doing, and would try to make meaningful conversation with her. One thing that struck me immediately, was the fact that it seemed like I was always talking to a drunk person, no matter what time of day I called her. Now, mom has been abusing benzodiazepines for over twenty years now, and I chalked things up to that. My first visit to Helena in over three years dispelled all of those speculations instantly, and I was instantly horrified to discover how things really were. Mom wasn't taking too many pills, somehow she had severely deteriorated cognitively to the point that I question whether or not she had suffered a moderate stroke.
The mom I knew was gone almost entirely. She couldn't talk without slurring, she could barely walk without stumbling, and even the most basic physical movement or activity required all of her concentration. Mom was no longer capable to being abusive at all, she was dying and losing her mind at the same time......and all she could think about was leaving everything to me, and making it as easy as possible for me and her sister to take care of her affairs after she passed. Mom may have lost a lot of her mental functions, but in doing so, it revealed her true character, something I had overlooked over the last thirty or so years. Mom was an extremely caring and compassionate woman.......and she genuinely loved her son. The worst was the fact I could tell she was very afraid of dying. Once I realized all of this, I pledged to her that I would make sure that she didn't die alone, and I kept my word on that.
A week after my initial visit, it became clear to me that mom was going to need someone at home with her 24 hours a day to make sure she was cared for, and didn't fall around the house (which she had already done more than once). It also became clear who that person was going to be.......me. If I was going to be able to live with myself after all of this, I was going to have to do the one thing that she never did for me as a child..... take care of and comfort her while she was sick. The irony of the situation most certainly wasn't lost on me, but like I said, if I was going to be able to live with myself, I was going to have to step up to the plate, and demonstrate an incredible amount of compassion. I'm not going to lie, I was scared shitless over this, and I lost a lot of sleep over it over the last two weeks. In time, I came to view it as an opportunity to bond with mom in her last days, and possibly show her things that she had no idea about when it came to her son. It most certainly wasn't going to be easy, but I found that I genuinely wanted to do this for her. There was one caveat; the dingoes absolutely had to be with me during all of this, otherwise the likelihood of a major depressive episode was almost guaranteed for me. Fortunately, she tentatively agreed to the idea of having two crazed dingoes running roughshod all over her condominium. I made all of the preparations to take three months of leave from work (mom agreed to pay my lost wages with some of my inheritance money), and I was ready to come over to Helena to take care of mom full time starting Sunday, June 9th. I'm writing this very late in the evening on Saturday, June 8th.......I was never given the chance to take care of mom like I planned.
I had just crawled into bed after work around midnight on Wednesday, when my phone jerked me instantly awake with my heart caught in my throat (a lovely symptom of PTSD). I knew immediately that something was very wrong. My aunt was the caller, and was in hysterics when I answered. She had found mom down on the floor trying to crawl into the bathroom, incoherent, white as a sheet......and covered in bloody stool. I can't even begin to imagine how awful the situation was for my aunt, or fault her for being in hysterics when she called me. She has no medical knowledge, or training like I do as a medical professional, but she made the call to 911, and then called me. The paramedics whisked mom off to the ER of the local hospital, and I called one of mom's friends, who happens to be a Registered Nurse. She quickly went down to the hospital, assessed the situation, and called me straightaway to tell me I urgently needed to speak to the attending physician, since I am mom's power of attorney (something we had established less than a week prior). I spoke with the physician, and he confirmed my fears, mom had an acute gastrointestinal bleed, and probably had only hours, to a fews days left to live.
That was all it took. I threw the dogs in the car at 1:00 in the morning, and drove like a banshee to Helena. I arrived to find her resting comfortably, but unconscious, with my aunt keeping vigil next to her bed. We sat there for a few hours, and then I took my aunt back to the condo so she could get some sleep. When I returned to mom's hospital room, it was obvious to me that her breathing was becoming increasingly labored, and pretty soon she was only breathing a few times a minute. I couldn't believe this was happening in front of me. Worse yet, I didn't think to say anything important at the time, when I finally came to my senses, she had passed away.
Sigh, this was not how things were supposed to end between us. I was going to take care of her, and through that process, she was going to learn that I had forgiven her, and held no ill will toward her. She was going to learn about who I really am, and just how much I had changed over the last two years. Sadly, that never came to pass. When I finally came to my senses, I told her I had forgiven her a long time ago, that I love her, and to tell Carly that I say hi. In short, I had none of the closure that I had hoped for. I can't help but think that this was another missed opportunity for me to prove to the world that I really am a good person, I still yearn so much to prove that......not that it will make me believe it in the process. I made good on my promise though, she wasn't alone when she died, and I'm very grateful for that because I would hate myself that much more if she would have been alone.
So here is sit on the eve of the day that I genuinely thought would transform people's perception of me once and for all. I really was determined to take care of mom until her final day. I was going to try to make her life as full as possible. I was going to take her to movies, watch TV with her, take her for drives, cook meals for her, and maybe even read to her. I really wanted to do all of that for her.....because I actually cared about her, and loved her. One thing that has changed about me over the four years since Carly's death is that I understand her far more now than I ever could have beforehand. That process has already begun with mom, and as it did with Carly, it is helping me deal with the grieving process. I'm not interested in learning the why of everything that happened during our time growing up, I'm interested in learning what the real person my mom was. Looking back, I can honestly say that I truly have completely forgiven mom for everything. I'm still going to struggle with my CPTSD until the day I die, but at least I'm not angry over it any longer. I'm not stuck on what happened all those years ago any longer, now I'm focused on what I need to do move beyond my past. I already miss my mom, and wish I had more time with her before she died because it turns out that she was a much different person than the one I thought she was, and that has given me greater clarity when thinking about the past. Sadly, I think mom died still hating her mother for what she had done to her as a child, fortunately for me, I won't make that same mistake. I didn't get all of the closure that I wanted, but maybe I got the closure I needed.
The rapid manner in which mom passed really is a blessing in disguise. I was absolutely horrified when I found out that she was basically going to starve to death, while losing more and more of her mental acuity each day....a fate that I consider to be worse than death. Thankfully, that never came to pass, and mom's suffering ended before it could get far worse. My life is going to be quite different in the coming days thanks to everything mom has left me, and I hope I was able to adequately convey to her just how thankful I am to her because of it. I most certainly will never forget the very last thing that mom ever did for me.
Goodbye mom, thank you so much, I love you, and I will always miss you.
