A Short Trip to Virginia

My daughter and I left for Virginia on 17 March 2013, and we planned to return to Kentucky on the 20th. I didn't write much about that trip...details are sparse, but I did ask my friends for funny memes to lift my spirits on this day in 2013. I was as confused as anyone about the cause of my mother's disease at this point, which was 12 years ago. Now I know more than I care to know about cholangiocarcinoma, more than a decade after my mother's death.

I remember my daughter being tentative about the visit, and when we both saw mom, we were aghast. She wasn't just yellow from bile duct jaundice, she was orange. When I asked the doctor much later why they couldn't see that transition, he said it was because it was just that--a transition. With slow changes,  the closer you are to someone, the more difficult it is to see the change.

I know I'll go through my mother's hospital records at some point. I have three bags filled with after-visit summaries and hospice notes. I'm sure, too, that as I go through my Facebook memories this year, I'll learn more details about what happened. during this month in 2013.

Also today in 2013, I made the decision to return to Kentucky. My caughter and I both had jobs to return to, and there was nothing we could do for the time being in Virginia. I know the weather at this time of year in 2013 was marvelous. Lots of blue skies and green grass. Witness the photo I took of my parents' back yard on the 19th...the weather was to continue to be this charming through the week.

The True Beginning of the Story

The Country Club
and an Irish Party, 15 March 2014

I was sick in early February, and then I fell in late February of this year. I landed on the back of my head first, and the rest of my body followed. No broken bones and no brain bleed, but it took a few weeks for me to feel "right" again. I've never hit my head that hard, and I'm lucky--I hear--that I didn't damage anything.

During that time, I realized my mother's journey began in March of 2013, so I took it easy and gathered Facebook memories and stories I had created about her journey every day, missing only one day. Finally, today I found the true beginning of the story, where mom was admitted to the hospital with jaundice and was unable to digest food. To be clear, that was 15 March 2013. I was still in Kentucky at the time, but I had threatened her earlier in the year (it may have been the end of 2012, actually) that I would come to Virginia if she didn't stop losing weight. She didn't want me. But, a hospital visit? I had to make plans.

I had already heard from someone that morning that she had a blockage in her bile duct, which explained the jaundice. She wasn't in pain, but she had been very tired. And, a blockage also explained that she wasn't able to digest food. For some reason, the doctors at the hospital decided to cut into her to examine her bile duct. I guess they felt they couldn't see anything with a CAT scan? I didn't receive an answer to that question. This was a Friday, and we weren't expecting pathology reports back until Monday.

Cora, my daughter, was available, so we planned to drive to Virginia the next day for a few days to see what we could learn. Mom hadn't seen Cora in ages, so we figured that her visit might lift her spirits and help her get over the fact that I would also be in the room. My mother could be antagonistic with me if I was simply breathing the same air.

_____

One year later, on 15 March 2014, I managed to get two hours away from my parents and go out with two distant cousins to celebrate St. Patrick's day. We had a great time, and it was good for me to get out of the house. I could never relax, though. Every time I tried to leave, my mother would blow a stent, suddenly have a 104° fever, or throw up everything she had eaten that day. I never did get far or for too long, so that night was a pleasant one for me.

It's good to be writing this story again. Sometimes it's difficult, because my memories are still so fresh about so many details. But, I also feel I'm putting some things to bed, and that feels liberating.

Sometimes Flowers are Better than Food

 Not much happening in 2013 or 2014, at least nothing of note to write about. Except for this: "Beautiful bouquet just arrived for mom...the roses are permeating the house!" I remember the smell. I think these roses came from the "rose queen" neighbor who lived up the road from my folks.

 

Food, Food, Food, and Elvis

 

On 27 January 2014 I wrote, "Two of mom's former neighbors called on her this afternoon, bringing a pineapple, fudge, a baked chicken, bag of sweet 'taters, two baguettes, two six-packs of Boost, two eight-packs of Activia, a bouquet of flowers, and a balloon. They warned us they'll return next week. We gotta eat!"

We had also received a roast and another chicken the day before and we were expecting a pot of chili the next day. So our pantry was full.

And, yet...all my father wanted was "one of those Elvis sandwiches." Mom, dad, my daughter and I had traveled to Memphis to visit my daughter in school in 2010, and we took a sidetrip to Graceland. I don't think I need to say any more. I learned from my mother that the women always serve the men, but it was fun to watch my dad have a blast in the kitchen after mom died. At any rate, I was making the sandwich shown here for dad after our company departed.

My father made numerous concessions to health with his "Elvis" sandwich, though. He wanted rye bread rather than white bread, he omitted the bacon, and he didn't want it grilled like Elvis did. Nor could my father eat as many as thirteen or more of those sandwiches at one time. One would suffice, thank you very much.

Elvis's peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich is now known as The Elvis, and it's served on menus across the South. 

In another note, I wrote that mom greeted her friends with her usual southern gracious charm that always made her friends feel so special. "You cannot tell from looking at mom that she's so sick. Cannot tell, especially when she puts on makeup. It's frightening, really, beause there's such a disconnect between how she looks and what's going on beneath the surface."

And that was my life with my mother in a nutshell.