A Week to Live

So I left the nest. After my mom taught me all the tricks and trades to life, taught me the good from the ugly, and how to spread my wings and just let myself fly...I left. I flew (well drove) to Auburn University this year. Second year of college, first year away. I'd say it's a great year to be an Auburn Tiger fan, that's for sure. I have a great set up at school-- live with one of my best friends, am part of a couple great clubs, love my job..I mean, other than the fact that I feel like I am the only sober one half of the time and finding new friends is REALLY hard..I LOVE Auburn and being on my own...

Untill the day I got the txt message informing me of my mom's decreasing health. A txt message telling me to "prepare myself for the worst". Yes, a txt message. I was walking to my dreaded 8 am class this Spring semester when everything I knew about anything came crumbling down in the form of a single message in my inbox. I was told that morning my mom, only 49 years YOUNG, was hospitalized and was believed to have brain tumors. Tumors--that's one scary word; add an 's' on the end and it takes it to a whole new level. Needless to say, I sobbed through the class, rushed back to my apartment and with the help of a great roommate, I headed back home to my family.

Returning home was nothing like returning back to the comforting nest I had left. The next several days became a surreal blur. Day after day in and out of the hospital. Wishing, praying, hoping for anything good to happen. Anything. The hospital became our home. My three sisters and I woke up, went to the hospital. Ate breakfast, lunch, dinner...at the hospital. I'm pretty sure the employees knew us by name. We napped in the hallways, cried-ALOT, ignored phone calls, and talked to distant family members who visited here and there. Then, after a long day we would go into the darkness of my mom's room and give her a goodnight kiss and repeat over and over again how much we loved her, usually with no response. My mom was a vegetable, I never believed SHE was in her body. She stayed that way for eight long, exhausting days.

I'll never forget the night the doctors told us her diagnosis. They took us over to a secluded area to look over the scan and test results. The doctor started at the top of my mom's body and worked his way down, naming everything that was wrong. As I was listening, it was like time was moving slower than ever. It seemed like he was naming every major organ in her, saying, "there seems to be cancer there...and here.." I also remember him saying that it was a miracle she was up and walking the week prior, due to the four golf ball sized tumors in her brain that could have caused her to seize or have a stroke. I felt my heart race and my breathing quicken and I knew I could not continue to stand in the presence of that doctor anymore. I ran. I ran down the hall as far away as I could, holding on to the wall, shaking my head, and screaming silently.."WHY?! GOD". I would have done anything to convince myself it wasn't happening. My oldest sister was the only one who managed to stand through the whole meeting and broke the news to the rest of us. The breast cancer my mom had over 12 years ago was back-- this time in her liver, lungs, and 4 tumors in her brain. They gave her a week to live.

That was over three weeks ago and you know what? My mom is still here and stubborn as ever. Even though I THOUGHT my world was over and even though I THOUGHT those doctors were God, I learned very quickly, they're not. No one knows you're timing, and it certainly wasn't my moms. After eight days of an incoherent vegetative state, she woke up and wanted Blue Plate. She didn't die, despite the doctor's predictions. I know it was the prayers that got us out of the hospital and I wish there was a way for me to personally thank each and every person that prayed for us because it has given me something most people take for granted--time. I get time with my mom to see her laugh and smile..I even get to capture it on camera. I get to hold her warm hands and lay in bed with her every morning to watch the Today show. I'll get to see her little bald head as she goes through radiation, but to me, that's a blessing. I get my mom, and that's something I didn't think I would have 3 weeks ago.