Who Is The President Of The United States?

This article is a continuation from the previous post “Not Yesterday And Not Tomorrow: All We Really Have Is Today”

IMPACTING THOUSANDS OF LIVES

I stepped on the gas pedal of the black Kia Optima that I had temporarily rented for the next couple months while I planned to be home with my family finishing my book and launching my new company.  The rental car bounced around from road condition of the narrow country road as I sped through the rural countryside. The windshield wipers periodically flipped across the windshield to wash away the rain droplets beginning to form.

My sister was still in Indianapolis with her boyfriend since they had watched the Big Ten Championship the night before. I gave her a quick call and told her that I was on my way to the Emergency Room. I told her there was no need to rush home and that I would keep her posted with what I found out.  At this point it could just be bad reaction to our mother’s sinus medication. But my mind was racing about as fast as I was driving.

Please don’t let this be the beginning of something horrible I continued thinking. I couldn’t help but think what the doctors would find.  I wasn’t ready to deal with my mother having Alzheimer’s disease quite yet.  I have thought about my mother aging over the past several years but my mother is still young.  She has a lot of life to live and is only a year and a half away from retirement. She could have retired a couple years ago but she wouldn’t have hit the penultimate 30 years of teaching and her pension compensation would be considerably different if she retired before 30 years.

After spending her time at home selflessly raising my sister and I while my father worked long hours to support our young family, my mother began college when my sister and I were old enough to begin a daytime school program. But she began her career many years after her peers began their careers which is why she is still teaching. She eventually became a second grade teacher at the same school that my sister and I attended. I thought I was pretty cool to have a mother that was a teacher. She would go on to receive her master’s degree and dedicated her entire career to shaping the lives of thousands of students.

PLEASE DON’T BE ALZHEIMER’S

My eyes fixated on the road ahead as the barren farm fields passed by. My mindfulness meditation training was kicking in. I began to chat with myself and told myself to remain positive. It is easy to think negatively in this situation. I knew that whatever the doctors would find out today that we could begin getting my mother the help that she needed.  Maybe we would catch Alzheimer’s early enough to begin medication to slow the effects of long term memory loss.  We have to find out.

My mind kept racing back through the last two weeks… She was strange when her and Mike picked me up at Detroit Airport… She repeated herself randomly within a matter of minutes…  She was more quiet than usual at Thanksgiving dinner with our extended family but that could mean that she was just exhausted from cleaning the house and preparing for the dinner…  The Thursday after Thanksgiving was super bizarre with her not making sense after I asked her if she was feeling ok… She had complained of terrible headaches during the week after Thanksgiving and leading up to our strange conversation.

And she seemed ok the following night at her grand-niece’s play, but Mike had to drive her to meet me halfway so I could drive her the rest of the way.  But she remembered right away where the mailbox was in West Unity, Ohio, and I would have never found the location if it weren’t for her.  She was adamant we had to mail several birthday cards that day or the cards wouldn’t make it on time… She wasn’t able to travel to Detroit the day following the play because she complained of a bad headache. Mike needed to turn around and drive back home after their breakfast stop…

After the forty minute drive to Angola, I pulled into the parking lot and hurried into the Emergency Room waiting area.  After checking in, a nurse came out to escort me back to her room. The place looked all too familiar as I had brought my mother to the same place after she fell out of the shower a couple years ago and broke her wrist.   I thought to myself that a bone break at this point sounded better than what I was about to walk into.

IT’S OK TO CRY

I walked through the large door opening of her hospital room and pulled back the long curtain hanging from the small track attached to the ceiling. My mother was laying down in the bed that was slightly propped up in the back. I quickly noticed that her clothes were off and she had been changed into a hospital gown. She was covered in large white blankets and an IV tube ran out of her arm and into a machine next to her bed. The ice cold air surrounded my body as I moved into the room.

My mother’s hair was perfectly done and her makeup was all on her face.  She sure is a beautiful woman, I thought.  She was alert and her eyes were open. Everything about her looked completely normal other than the fact that she was sitting in an Emergency Room in a hospital gown.

Our eyes connected and I could instantly feel my head begin to tingle. She tilted her head to the side as her lips pressed firmly together and her eyebrows lowered. I leaned down and wrapped my arms around her entire body. I didn’t want to let go. I could sense how scared she was as she began to cry. The lump in my throat became larger as I tried to hold back my emotions.

As I felt my mother’s warm body next to mine, my mind went back to my childhood and I could hear her telling me, “Its ok to cry Cory. Let it out.  You will feel better.” Droplets of water rolled down my cheeks as the lump in my throat flinched trying not to lose it altogether.  I whispered into her ear that it will all be ok. That we are in the right spot to figure this all out. And that we will get the answers that we need.

“I love you so much mom. We will get through this,” I reassured her as I pulled back and looked into her eyes.  I grabbed a tissue nearby to wipe away my wet cheeks and I wiped away my mother’s tears.

Mike had been pacing back and forth on the other side of the hospital bed. His face was flushed and his hands shook with fear. He was beside himself as he nervously explained what had happened earlier in the morning.  How she was unable to find the cupboard with the tea, something she had located every morning for years.

After checking my mother’s vital signs, the nurse pulled out the long, metal arm that connected the computer screen to the wall. As she began to ask my mother a series of questions to log into her record, it became very apparent that something was seriously wrong.

The nurse asked her what her full name was and my mother quickly rattled off her name. Then she was able to quickly recite her birthdate. The nurse asked my mother how she felt and my mother said that she had a slight headache.

“Do you know where you are?” the nurse continued. Mike, the nurse and I all looked at my mother as if she would be able to answer relatively quickly, however a look of confusion slowly came across her face. She turned her head over towards me like she needed a lifeline. Mike answered for her but it made me realize that it was important to see if she could answer without assistance.

Mike looked over at me and I signaled to him that we should let her answer.  He quickly understood. “What month is it?” the nurse continued.

“What month is it?” my mother clarified. The nurse nodded back to my mother. “Well, the month is….” she began but then paused. My body shuddered. I unknowingly placed my hand over my mouth in disbelief and shut my eyes hoping this wasn’t happening.  My mothers eyes shot over towards me.

“Mom, what month is it right now?” I repeated. Chills washed across my skin. It was hard for me to believe that my mother was fine last week and now she couldn’t remember what month it was.  Maybe she was confused because we had just moved into the month of December.  “Mom, what year is it?” I asked trying to give her an easier question.

“Well, it is…” she began and then paused. I could see her mind working hard to find the answer. I held my breath hoping she would be able to answer this question. “It is two thousand eighteen.” A large exhale flowed out of my mouth feeling relieved to know that she still had some sort of memory.

“Who is our president?” the nurse continued to see how my mother was able to respond and to see what my mother had difficulty understanding.  I thought to myself that everyone in the world should know the answer to this question. And maybe it would elicit some sort of reaction? My mother looked over and shook her head. I was in shock. Where had my mother’s mind gone?

The imaging team came into the room shortly after the initial questions and wheeled my mother to get her CT Scan. The room fell completely still as the bed was wheeled all the way out.  I looked over at Mike seated in the chair across the room now that nothing was between us. He was hunched over looking down at the white tiled floor and his hands were clasped leaning against his forehead.

I slowly stood up, walked over and placed my hand on his shoulder. I looked up at the ceiling to prevent tears from rolling down my face. It was scary to imagine what could possibly be going on with my mother. Even though we didn’t have any answers yet, one thing that I did know is that we would get through this together.

Fifteen minutes later, they wheeled my mother back into the room. Mike and I held my mother’s hands, one on each side, reassuring her that it will all be ok. That we will get some answers to why she had been having headaches. We had to stay as positive as possible knowing our minds could easily create unwanted scenarios.

After waiting twenty minutes that seemed like hours, the curtain at the entryway to the hospital room quickly pulled aside by a guy dressed in blue hospital clothes from head to toe.  He introduced himself as the doctor and wanted to walk through the scan results.

He looked directly at my mother as Mike and were seated next to each other on the far side from where the doctor was standing. “We have found a mass on your left frontal lobe. We need to get you down to Fort Wayne immediately to run a more detailed MRI …”

My brain subconsciously shut off the sound coming into my ears as the doctor’s mouth continued to describe what needed to happen next. It was like someone unexpectedly punched me in my stomach as hard as they could. I suddenly exhaled but began to gasp. It felt like the oxygen in the air had vanished.

“Oh God,” Mike spewed out. His head immediately dropped forward and his body became limp. It felt like one of those horrible dreams that is happening but you aren’t able to wake up. Where you just lie there and watch it all happen. But eventually you wake up and realize that it was just a bad dream.  And then become thankful it was only a bad dream and not real life.

My body was completely numb with disbelief. My mind went into shock. Everything happened quickly and the next thing I knew I was driving on the expressway behind an ambulance with my mother in the back.  I could see her laying down through the square windows built into the back doors of the vehicle.

My hands gripping the steering wheel, I couldn’t help but think back to all of the times my mother helped calm me down when I came home crying after school each day from being bullied. My mother would give me a hug, wipe away my tears and tell me that it would all be ok.  That I would become stronger one day because of it.

I wanted to make this all go away for my mother.  I wanted to hug her and tell her that it would all be ok. That she will be stronger because of whatever it is that will happen. But I felt helpless. I had no control over what was happening to my mother. My heart hurt as my tear ducts filled with water. All I could hear is the car’s engine humming as I looked straight ahead. The uncontrollable tears flowed down my face. I wanted to wake up so badly from this nightmare.

… To Be Continued. CLICK HERE to continue.