Please Don't Look Into the Light...

Yet!

This past Friday night, my phone rang and I could see it was my mom calling. As has been my custom lately, I let it go to voice mail, then 15 minutes later another call from my mom. This time, I answered. I knew something had to be wrong and I was right. It was Wayne, a close family friend, calling to say that my mom was in distress and might die that night. He handed the phone to my mom, struggling for breath she said, "I just wanted to hear your voice. I almost died tonight." She handed the phone back to Wayne who explained that there was a problem with her oxygen tank and that she was having problems breathing. Calmly, I said, "Well then, she needs to go back to the hospital right away, right?" There was some commotion going on in the background and I could hear my grandmother talking and there was shuffling and Wayne mentioned they would try to fix the oxygen tank and abruptly ended the call.

I placed my phone back on the sofa arm rest where I had been watching tv, I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh. My mind began to race and I wondered if I should start to pack up my stuff and head down that way again just in case this really was the end. So many things had to be done. I didn't have any decent clothes to wear to her funeral. I had to get my hair done and do something with the house and the cat and my job and the list went on and on in my head. Then, I began to feel the crushing guilt wash over me. Knowing that I hadn't spoken to her and maybe I should have said something sooner. Then, I remembered that there wasn't anything to say. What could I say? I still feel numb. I'm not angry anymore, but somehow she still doesn't feel like my mom. She's like a stranger. I have a hard time really feeling anything for her other than basic human compassion that you might feel for anyone who is dying.

Sometime went by and Wayne called me back to say that she was stabilized and spouted off some of her vitals to me. I didn't realize it at the time, but she had been readmitted into the hospital. Wayne handed the phone to her and she began to sputter on about how much better she was doing already and that she was scared earlier and thought she might die.

I've known for a while that she doesn't really have that much longer to live. It's only been 3 weeks and she's back in the hospital. I doubt she is released anytime soon this time. I called my brother (#1 brother Adrian) after I hung up from my mom and let him know she was back in the hospital. I wondered if he might be able to get leave to visit her before he is deployed to the middle east in a few weeks. I could hear the fear, loathing and guilt in his voice as he explained that he's broke and his vehicle is having issues. How would he make it home in time to see her? I didn't pressure him. I just let him know the basics and will leave the rest to him.

Late Saturday afternoon, I finally got around to listening to the initial voice mail my mom sent on Friday night when I sent her to voice mail. She said, "I almost died tonight. I wanted to talk to you. Call me. I love you." I deleted the voice mail and thought about what to do. I called her immediately after listening to the voice mail. She began to cry when she heard my voice. The doctor had just left her room and she said she might get out of the hospital in the next couple days after they have removed some of her excess fluids. Once again, I read between the lines and knew she wouldn't be getting out anytime soon. I remember looking into her doctor's eyes when I was there and how he looked at her. He knows. She knows. I know. She's going to die very soon. Just when is the question now.

I have to admit that the thought crossed my mind that she might die on my birthday this Saturday, October 11 and how I pray that she lives just one extra day so that my own birth is not marred by her death. I secretly resent the notion of this one last coup de grace by her to ruin my very existence.

I took the day off from work yesterday to begin preparing for her impending demise. First thing yesterday morning, I got my hair done. Talking to my stylist/little sister Ashanti I recounted the story I laid out here and she told me to think positive. Don't think the worst. Don't go looking for funeral clothes just yet. Think positive thoughts that she lives a little while longer.
I conceded. I nodded my head, closed my eyes and thought good thoughts. I wouldn't go to Macy's just yet, but I would pack a bag with just regular old clothes and necessities and put it in my car for a quick last minute escape.

That was my intention yesterday, but I still haven't packed a bag yet. I need to call her again today and see what's what. Maybe she won't look into the light just yet. Maybe.