The News You Need To Know But Don’t Want To Hear

This article is a continuation from the previous post “Who Is The President Of The United States?”

The imagining specialist came into the hospital emergency room wearing his green scrubs to wheel the large bed that comforted my mother. He looked at the group of people standing around my mother as she sat up in the sophisticated bed with all sorts of electronic bells and whistles that did anything from raising and lowering the bed to changing the volume and channel on the television up on the wall.

My sister, Abby, and her boyfriend, Andrew, stopped by the hospital on their way back home from Indianapolis. Mike’s son, Matt, and Matt’s wife along with their two tween girls drove down from Sturgis, Michigan, to join us once they found out my mother wasn’t well. With our minds anxious and concerned, we did our best to keep the mood light and uplifting.

My mother remained confused.  Moments earlier one of the ER doctors stopped by to ask her a few questions. As the full house looked on and wanted so badly to help her answer the softball-like questions, we knew that we had to let the care team assess the situation.

“Melanie, can you tell me what month it is?” the doctor dressed in his white doctor’s coat calmly asked my mother. We all were frozen in place to hear what she would say. She began to speak but then paused right before speaking the month. Her eyes darted from side to side before landing on my eyes. Her eyes told me that she wasn’t able to remember. My heart sank. I looked back at her as my eyes softened hoping my glance could encourage her find the words.

Mike and I looked at each other remembering what we had experienced hours earlier but the rest of the group was in shock. It was hard to watch someone you love so much and who was always sharp not be able to remember simple things. The doctor flashed a concerned half-smile knowing that something was certainly not right. “Can you tell me why you are here?” the doctor continued as he closely watched my mother.

“To take out the muffins,” my mother replied after a short pause. I watched my sister’s eyes widen as we all realized how scary this was. Our minds collectively speculated that she somehow jumped into some sort of accelerated Alzheimer’s. We immediately began to think of our grandmother and how she would say wacky things when we asked her questions. To say that we felt helpless was an understatement.

Once the imaging specialist walked into the room, we all moved away from the bed so he could prepare my mother to get her MRI.  He looked at her and asked if she was ready for her MRI. She looked over at us with a confused look on her face.  I reached for her hand and explained they would need to take photos of her head to see what was going on.

I remember in the past my mother telling me that she needed medication to calm her down before being rolled into the very narrow, circular opening of the MRI tube. All my mind could think about was her freaking out when they rolled her into the tube since something wasn’t quite right with her mind. The imaging specialist allowed me to walk back with her to the imaging room but I would be unable to be in the room with her.

As the bed slowly rolled down the wide hospital corridor, I held her hand and walked next to her. Her eyes stayed on me as I looked down at her and reassured her that everything was going to be ok. I explained to the specialist that she wasn’t making much sense and she had been slightly claustrophobic in a previous MRI so I wanted to make sure she wasn’t scared to go into the MRI tube.

I could feel the cold burst of air surround my body once we entered the imaging room staging area. As the specialists uncovered my mother to lift her up onto the narrow plank that is rolled into the MRI tube, my mother exclaimed, “It’s so cold in here!” The specialists quickly reacted and pulled out some warm blankets to place over her.

And without much consultation with me, they began to place a black face mask over her eyes. My mother just laid there and didn’t flinch. “Mom, they just need to take some pictures of your head so just lay still and relax.  It will all be fine,” I said to my mother like I was speaking to a little kid trying to calm them down from being scared.

I walked out of the imaging room to head back to her room within the ER. The room was empty as everyone had gone out to the waiting area. I sat down on the only guest chair along the wall, stared in silence at the empty space where my mother once laid and then buried my face in my hands trying to cope with the throbbing sensation in my head. All I wanted was for all of this to go away.

THE WAITING GAME

Shortly after the MRI, a room opened up in the oncology unit where she would stay for at least one night, possibly more. It was a much more comfortable room with a long couch along the window that converted into a bed for guests.  And a private bathroom for my mother.

Abby, Andrew and Matt and his family had all reluctantly left after my mother came back from the MRI.  They all had to go into work the next day after what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. Mike and I sat with my mother in the dimly lit room as nighttime had fallen. The monitor that contained my mother’s vital signs consistently beeped with each heartbeat. The automatic blood pressure sleeve squeezed my mother’s arm every fifteen minutes and I could see her face flinch at the onset of the pressure each time.

The stress of the day had certainly taken a toll on Mike and I as we sat staring at my mother while she rested her eyes and we patiently waited for the MRI results. Our eyes exhausted, our bodies weakened, our minds overwhelmed, our hearts broken.

CONFUSED BUT EMOTIONALLY ALERT

Around 9pm, the on-call Hospitalist came into the room to begin his initial check on my mother after being admitted to the oncology unit. Any piece of new information would feed our starving minds. After he was finished with his assessment, we anxiously asked about the MRI results. He explained that while the MRI was complete, the neurologists had to review the images before they could share the results with us. And that unfortunately would most likely be tomorrow morning.

The doctor’s response triggered my heart to explode and I could no longer hold back my emotional release. I had anticipated much needed answers before the end of one of the most stressful days of my life but it quickly became apparent that the emotional wait would need to be extended. My face ached as the tears streamed down my cheeks. It felt like a dagger had pierced my heart and my body collapsed into the chair behind me.

The doctor left the room after his explanation and my mother just stared ahead at the wall not understanding what any of his words meant. Luckily, the team back at the Angola Emergency Room had administered a steroid to her that was relieving the pressure on her brain that had been causing the headaches.  And my mother was not in any pain which was some sort of a relief.

“Is everything ok?” my mother asked sensing that something was emotionally wrong with Mike and I.  Even though my mother didn’t comprehend any of the words that the doctor had just said, she could still understand emotions. I stood up, walked over to my mom as she was propped up in her bed and wrapped my arms around her.  I could feel her head next to mine as I gave her an extended hug.  I wasn’t quite sure what to tell her but I knew my special embrace was able to comfort her soul. And in a huge way, her embrace comforted mine.

My mother’s eyes slowly began to close from the stress of the day. Before she fell asleep, she knew that we were both exhausted also. She calmly told us to go home and get some rest. After much discussion about staying the evening with her at the hospital, both Mike and I determined that we needed to ensure we were well rested for the days ahead. Mike thought he could make the hour drive back home so he took off first.  He leaned down to give my mother a long hug. It pained him to leave her all alone, but he knew he wouldn’t get any type of rest away from his bed back home.

After Mike left, I shut the lights off in the room and my mother began to drift asleep. I told her that I would wait until she was sound asleep before taking off but that we would both be back by 8am the next day, probably around the same time that she would wake up anyway.

As I leaned down to hug her, I whispered into her ear, “You taught me my entire life to be strong. And that struggles always made me stronger once I went through it. So I know that you are stronger than ever. Whatever this is, I will be by your side the entire time to help you get through this journey. You are my rock mom. I love you so much. Sleep well and I will see you when you wake up.”

My eyes struggled to stay open as they fixated on the white dashes in the middle of the highway flashing by on my drive back to my sister’s house. I looked at the clock on the dashboard and the time showed 12:00am. It felt like an entire week had gone by in one day. My mind was pure mush. I couldn’t process any more information. Even though I didn’t want to know what tomorrow would bring, I wanted to have answers that could help me understand what we are up against.  And once I had some answers then I could quickly find a way to help get my mother’s mind back.

My mother’s eyes cracked open as I walked into her hospital room. A groggy smile popped up as she saw me walk in. Mike had arrived about thirty minutes before me. She was just as beautiful as she normally was. It was like she had already showered, did her hair and put her make up on before we had arrived.

Mike told me as I leaned down to hug my mother that the neurologist had already stopped by an hour ago to speak with her without us there. I immediately stood back up and could feel the adrenaline begin to pulse through my body. I emphasized with the on-call doctor last evening to wait for Mike and I to arrive this morning before going through any type of results since it would make no sense to speak with my mother about her condition without us there. She wouldn’t be able to comprehend what was going on and she may become emotional if the news was very scary and somehow she did understand what it all meant.

I looked at Mike and sensed something wasn’t good. Mike motioned for me to meet with him outside the room. He looked like a ghost and I could see that his hands were shaking. With his voice cracking, he proceeded to tell me that the oncology unit’s shift leader met with him a little while ago. He said that I should speak with her to better understand what was going on since he wasn’t able to remember everything.

I took a large deep breath into my lungs attempting to prepare myself for what I was about to hear.  The shift leader’s office was a couple steps away from my mother’s room and I could see her sitting in front of her computer. After a soft knock on the open door, she looked over and I calmly introduced myself. She stood up as if she was expecting me. We found a quiet nook in the family lounge and sat down on the cushioned chairs.

She introduced herself to me as my mind was racing. I felt the pressure increase on my chest cavity while I sucked in as much air as I could to try to calm myself down. My mind repeated positive affirmations over an over as she prepared to deliver the news I had been anticipating for what seemed like an entire week.  “She is going to give me good news.  She is going to give me good news.  She is going to give me…”

THE NEWS

“The MRI results of your mother’s brain show that the mass is very large. And it most likely has been there for a long time. At least six months,” the shift leader began. I sat motionless as my eyes slowly closed to cover my eyeballs trying not to believe what I was hearing.

“We will need to perform a biopsy to understand if the mass is malignant, however we first need to see if we can locate any other abnormalities in her body. Sometimes the tumor cells form in other parts of the body first and then metastasize, or spread to other parts of the body like to the brain.”

I continued taking in deep breaths to calm my stomach that was violently turning as the words were entering my ears. “Performing a brain biopsy is very invasive and risky since we need to go into the brain to obtain some of the tumor’s tissue. But if we know that the tumor began elsewhere, we could potentially perform a biopsy on a different location since it most likely is easier to obtain instead of going into the brain. So today, we are going to run CT scans of her upper chest cavity as well as her abdomen area. This will help us determine if she has any type of mass elsewhere.”

“This couldn’t be happening,” I thought to myself. This had to be some sort of terrible dream that I was experiencing. That I would just shake myself out of this nightmare. That I would just wake up and immediately call my mom to tell her that I love her. I sat motionless on the chair as my brain had trouble trying to process what I was hearing. So many unanswered questions began to pop up. Questions that I wasn’t prepared to hear the answers to. I felt like I was going to throw up.

… To Be Continued. CLICK HERE to continue.