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Settling in from yesterday's early evening yard trim work for my neighbors.
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By Anna Phylaxis · Posted
This past Monday, I found out that my mother is terminally ill. We thought she only had bone cancer, which radiation would help with. Sadly, that is not the only place she’s got cancer. She’s got cancerous cells everywhere, and can no longer take care of herself. I am going home to Baltimore from July 3 and coming home on the seventh. That is probably the last time I will see my mother alive. I’m devastated. My sister has been there for the whole thing. She’s handling the majority of it, despite the fact that I have offered to make phone calls. She feels like she’s got to do it all. I keep offering my help, anyway. She is going into her apartment this weekend to get rid of expired food and anything else that would be considered garbage. On the fifth and the sixth, she, Jeff, and I will be going in there to bag up donations for Goodwill, as well as anything else that needs to be donated. we are also taking what we want. I can’t get past that part. She still alive, but I’m supposed to go take her shit? I’m doing it because of the memories and the meanings behind them, but I hate it. I fucking hate it with a passion. The timing is so weird, too. in 2007, my dad found out he had lung cancer. He also found out that he had emphysema, but didn’t tell us that he was terminal. We didn’t find out that he was terminal until he fell and ruptured his spleen. Two days after I got back to Maryland with my daughter, he died. We watched it happen. And here we are. The same time as 16 years ago. This time it’s my mom. I hope that she’s going to be able to hold on until July 3. I just can’t believe this is happening. It hurts my soul. It hurts my heart. I go through crying jags, mixed with terrible jokes about death because that’s how I deal with it. Between my trip to the hospital last week and this new knowledge, I’m lost. I’m not worried about me. But I’m worried about my mom. I’m worried about my sister. She will be 81 on July 9. That’s the same day that the people who are taking her furniture donations will arrive to take her shit. I’m not ready. I’m just not ready. -
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