Soon after I returned home from the RWA conference in Orlando, I received a phone call at work from my older brother.
Of course, if you knew my brother, you would immediately understand why either of those two scenarios alone (1. Calling me, 2. At work) would cause me concern. Put them together, and one has a recipe for a full-fledged panic attack. All this rammed through my head before he said two words.
His message? “Mom’s not doing well and she won’t go to the doctor. Can you call her? She listens to you.”
If I wasn’t so afraid, I would have choked on a snort of laughter. Mom listen to me? Right.
What you may have surmised from the title of this post is that my mom has emphysema. A few months back, the doctor diagnosed her at the moderate phase of the disease. Depending on whom you ask, this could be stage 2 or 3 (out of 4). You’re probably thinking—shouldn’t her doctor be able to clarify which phase she’s in? Yep, he should. But he merely smiles when she asks. The doctor’s 88 years old.
Back to the story–I hadn’t been home in a while, so I told my brother that I’d make a trip down there (5 hours away) after work and cart her off to the doctor the next day.
His next bombshell? “I think she’s beyond her regular doctor. She needs to go to the hospital.”
Ooookay. After this pronouncement, I’m already looking at my calendar to see what appointments need to be shifted around while my brother’s busy explaining all the bullying tactics he’s already tried. Unfortunately, my brother has his own health issues and doesn’t drive, so there’s really only so much he can do.
Fast forward a few hours. My mother, who would rather gnaw off her right arm than go to the doctor, had actually called the paramedics before I ever made it to my hometown. A sense of relief and terror struck me at the same time. Relief, because I now knew she was in good hands. Terror, because I knew she must be very sick to have called 911.
Over the next few days, I spent many hours in the hospital, keeping Mom company, asking questions of the medical staff, and catching up with my brothers. On top of the emphysema, we found out that Mom had contracted a bad case of pneumonia. Talk about a double bad deal.
By the fourth day, Mom was laughing and terrorizing the nurses, so I made a mad dash home to take care of some business issues, then returned downstate when I got word she was being released.
Thank goodness I did. In her 72 years, the strongest medication my mom’s ever taken was Advil and Aleve. Now, she’s plugged into an oxygen concentrator 24/7 and is taking a phlethora of other breathing medications. My brothers are great, but they’re not list makers. Mom needed a list. Actually, she needed several of them to keep up with her meds and the maintenance of her oxygen equipment.
During these two weeks, my mom started calling me bossy. She laughed at the idea of her youngest taking control of the situation. Getting things done. Ensuring she had nurses and home care workers checking on her.
You see, Mom and I have never really had a super close relationship. We’ve always loved each other, but we never felt the need to say “I love you” much, or be all huggy-feely with each other.
So, even though she harassed me about being bossy, she started saying “I love you” each night when I left for the evening. I would return the gesture and top it off with a hug.
On and on it went until it was time for me to leave. When I leaned down to hug her goodbye, she began to cry. I’d never seen my mom cry before. Leaving her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
When I reached home, I called my mom to let her know I’d made it back safe. She asked me when I was planning on returning. Now it was my turn to cry, for I had just received an invitation to return.
In the twenty years I’ve been away from my hometown, away from my mom, I’ve never been encouraged to visit. Never.
So, what did emphysema teach me above love?
It’s never too late.
* * *
RU Readers, have you or your family ever been touched by an illness that made you look at life in a whole new way?
Writer and RWA board member Ruth Kaufman lets us in on her secret to overcoming writer’s block. Be sure to stop by!
Tracey’s bio:
Tracey Devlyn writes historical romance with a dash of danger. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, International Thriller Writers and Windy City, Hearts Through History, The Beau Monde and Kiss of Death Romance Writers of America chapters.
Her first release, A LADY’S REVENGE, hits the bookstores October 2011.
Tracey lives in the Midwest with her once-in-a-lifetime husband and their alpha puppy. For more information, please visit www.TraceyDevlyn.com.
Kelsey's serving up bite-sized morsels for your noggin on her new 
ah, now see? you made me cry. =)
a beautiful lesson, and beautifully told.
She’s in my prayers,
carrie
Posted by Carrie Spencer | September 1, 2010, 12:32 amLOL – thanks, Carrie.
She’s doing much better. Just taking it one day at a time.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 5:21 amHi Tracey,
My mom didn’t give too many compliments, never sentimental or huggy, and tough as nails. When she was sick, she changed: weeping, softer, and appreciative. Cue the music, I had entered the Twilight Zone. I teased her about it and she would revert back to her normal self. But not for too long.
Best to you and your mom,
Mary Jo
Posted by Mary Jo Burke | September 1, 2010, 9:00 amHi Mary Jo,
Our moms sound very similar. One of my favorite things to do is torment her and make her laugh…or grumble.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 5:46 pmTracey -
First, I think this is proof that tough situations can bring out the best (and le’t's face it, the worst) in people. And being reminded of the fragility of life can bring a sharpness and clarity to our everyday actions.
As you know, I faced some health problems with my mom last year, spending about three months on the opposite side of the world from my son and husband. Once released from the hospital, my mom made some life decisions I didn’t agree with. And I became angry. Very, very angry. The anger stemmed from hurt. Hurt that I’d been there, put her first in my life. And yet she wasn’t willing to do the same for herself.
My mom and I have always been pretty close, and I love her and admire her like no one else in my life. But the lesson I learned was that love doesn’t always give two people the same goals. Sometimes love means knowing when to let go, rather than torturing yourself and others you love with anger and frustration.
I’m so glad this experience has brought you and your mom closer to one another. Please continue to take care of yourself as you help take care of her!
Hugs,
K-
Posted by Kelsey Browning | September 1, 2010, 9:24 amThanks, Kels. I thought of you and your situation often over the last few weeks while taking care of my mom. It’s amazing what we can do when we set our Type A minds to it.
Interestingly enough, I saw a whole new side to my middle brother during this process. Another relationship strengthened through an awful set of circumstances. I wouldn’t be able to rest easy if it wasn’t for him. He’s close by and can check on her.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 5:54 pmTracey,
I’m sorry your mom has had to go through this, but what a wonderful gift to have received from a bad situation.
My father and I became much closer throughout his illness. During that time, I learned things about him and began to understand him on a much deeper level. Now that he’s gone, I’m thankful for that precious time with him.
I guess, no matter how old we are, we continue to learn from our parents.
Posted by Adrienne Giordano | September 1, 2010, 12:32 pmSo true, Adrienne!
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 5:54 pmHey Tracey,
I wish both you and your mom strength. But the way you’ve turned this into a beautiful thing– I see that your reserves are already strong.
I have the opposite problem, a mom who holds on too tight. Most days I love it, sometimes not so much. But this inspired me to ease up and count my blessings. Thank you.
Sonali
Posted by Sonali | September 1, 2010, 12:41 pmHi Sonali,
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a mom I could hang out with and have a more intimate relationship with. Knowing me, I’d probably want to plug her “advice hole.”
I’m glad my story helped you appreciate your mom all the more.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 6:00 pmYou can do that? Plug advice holes? Pleaaase enlighten me
(sorry,forgot I’m trying to be appreciative, oops.)
Stay Strong and Good Luck…!
Posted by Sonali | September 1, 2010, 7:19 pmLOL – sounds like a great blog topic, doesn’t it?
101 Ways to Plug Your Mom’s Advice Hole
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 8:29 pmOr, if we want to be equal opportunity…
101 Ways to Plug Your Parents’ Advice Hole
LOL – sorry, I couldn’t resist.
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 8:30 pmTracey, hugs. I know how hard it is to have a sick parent. I’m feeling for both of you. And your’e right, it does teach you about love.
Posted by Edie Ramer | September 1, 2010, 1:33 pmEdie,
Thanks for stopping by! Once we learned she had emphysema, I knew this day would come. And I’m also aware there will be more difficult ones ahead.
Hugs right back.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 6:02 pm(((Hugs))) Tracey. Glad you have this opportunity to reconnect.
In truth, there is a time when it is too late. After that final breath, you don’t get another chance so make the most of your time together, no matter what the past held.
Posted by PatriciaW | September 1, 2010, 2:20 pmPatricia,
Thanks for the advice. I’m certainly going to follow it. Even though we don’t have a perfect relationship, it’s one that will sustain me in the years ahead. I’ve got to gobble up all the happy times now.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 6:04 pmTracey,
What a beautiful way to look at a very difficult time. Thank you so much for sharing it with us.
Hope your mom’s health continues to improve,
Sally
Posted by Sally Bayless | September 1, 2010, 3:27 pmThanks, Sally!
She’s doing better every day, but the simple fact is that there’s no cure for emphysema. We can only try to make her as comfortable as possible.
Thanks for stopping by!
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 1, 2010, 6:06 pmHi Tracey,
Thanks for sharing your story.
It reminds me, as PatriciaW said, that sometimes we don’t get the chance to put things right. Often, we just don’t take that chance because it can be so hard and we keep planning to do it tomorrow.
It is worth remembering that there are just so many tomorrows before it’s too late.
Good luck to you and your mom.
Posted by Cia | September 2, 2010, 8:05 amHi Cia,
You’re absolutely right! Unfortunately, our hectic lives don’t always allow us to stop and consider these things. And there are other, more emotional issues, that can put up a wall too. It’s an odd blessing–in my case–to have a breakthrough.
Thank you for stopping by.
Tracey
Posted by TraceyDevlyn | September 3, 2010, 5:20 amTracey —
You tugged my heart.
You’re being the best daughter. A daughter any mother would cherish. Glad you feel the love from her — and hope you feel the love from me.
Stay strong . . .
Love hugs…………….Margie
Posted by Margie | September 3, 2010, 10:57 am