I had so much on my mind that I didn’t sleep at all last night.
Around 12:30am this morning I read two thought-provoking articles regarding end-of-life issues. It’s important to me that I learn about what my medical future holds, what kinds of decisions I will be faced with, and the feelings I might have.
Author’s Note: This is the time, during a post, when I usually pause. I try to comfort everyone; I tell you not to worry, that I’m still fighting and keeping my hopes up. I’m just so worried about upsetting you, those I care for, too much. I don’t want to drive you away with gloomy thoughts or associate reading my blog with being sad. However, I realize that for this blog to work for me, I need to try to apologize less and write more. Here we go…
I had a small epiphany last night. There are just a few things I’m going to need so that, when the time comes, I can die peacefully. And of those things, there is one that will be very difficult to get.
Somehow – and I have no clue how – I need my mom to come to terms with my illness.
I have told her the truth (or 95% of it) since the beginning. But she has convinced herself that “they” will find a cure. It’s her coping mechanism: she can’t possibly accept the fact that her youngest child is dying. But at some point she must learn to accept the situation and somehow find the strength to cope.
I can’t do this by myself. And I feel like I have no help.
My mom has no close friends (save my brother and me). And she’s living in the middle of nowhere, with little to no support services. It would take her an entire day to drive to see either one of her children, and although she won’t admit it, her body wouldn’t allow her to do it in a day.
That’s one reason it’s so important that we sell the farm as soon as possible. We need to spend time together now. I don’t have the luxury of waiting. If I’m completely honest, one of my biggest fears is dying without her by my side.
And she’s going to need support. I’ve always been the strong one, but there’s just no way I can be struggling to breathe and comforting her at the same time. When my time comes, I need to know that she’ll be okay. Again, that’s where I need help.
I have been her primary support system for the past 18 years. And I’m terrified that if she doesn’t have others to help her through this, she will perish when I do. You just can’t imagine how heavy that weighs on my heart.
I guess this is a plea for help. If you know my mom, please call her often or send her a note. She’s not a social butterfly, but she really needs you.
And if you don’t know my mom, maybe you can continue to brainstorm ways I can sell the damn farm and move her closer to me. I just feel like it’s not a lot of money, and surely there must be someone who can help. Here is the link with the details.
I need to bring her closer to me, closer to family, closer to quality medical and support services. I need to know she’s going to be okay long after I’m gone. Only then will I be able to be at peace.