The New Normal

Well. Here we are.

What had started out as a way for me to detail my mom's cancer journey and my fears about that, will now be focusing on my grief after her death.

But let me back track just a little...
So I did quit that job. And it was a good thing that I did because in January, they ended up cleaning house and everyone got fired.
I went back to NC to be with my mom at the end of August/beginning of September. The last couple of weeks in NY after I quit my job, but before I went back to NC is kind of a blur. I spent time with my friends. I stayed out too late. I got a tattoo. I did all kinds of things around the city I never did during the week before, because I always had a job.

And then I got back to NC to be with my mom... and forgot all about this space. And writing in it. I spent most of my days hanging out with her, making her meals, cleaning her house, taking her to every chemo and doctor's appointment imaginable.
It was terrible. It was wonderful.
I didn't once regret being there. Well... maybe when my rent checks cleared every month with no money coming in. And I did end up having a online fundraising thing that helped out a lot too.

My mom slowly deteriorated. She stopped eating as much - it was too painful. The pain medication stopped working, and upping it only made her sleepy and she couldn't get out of bed.
She slowly deteriorated, until she quickly deteriorated.

Her doctor gave us the news that she had a blockage in a bile duct to her liver caused by inflamed lymph nodes from the cancer. She got jaundiced in a matter of hours. Her abdomen got swollen with fluid. Her doctors sat us down and said there was nothing to be done; that treatment options were over. They could put in a catheter to ease the fluid in her abdomen, but then hospice would be called.

My mom went into hospice on Tuesday March 14th. She lost her battle with cancer 6 days later on Monday March 20th.
We had maybe 2 good days with her once hospice was called. "Good days" meaning she knew where she was, who she was, and who everyone else was. The rest of her stay in hospice was us trying to keep her sedated so she didn't have any symptoms of her "terminal agitation" (seriously, couldn't they come up with a better word than that!?). Drugs being administered to her every 3 hours around the clock. No food. No water. Having to put a diaper on her was probably the worst thing that I've ever had to do.

It was a blessing that it wasn't dragged out any longer than that. I don't think we could have taken it. And she wouldn't have wanted us see her like that. My brother and I were there when she died, holding her hands and telling her we loved her and she didn't need to worry about us anymore.
I would imagine watching someone take their last breath is just a powerful as watching someone take their first. It was only fitting that my mom saw my brother and I take our first breaths, and we were there to watch her take her last.

I took a few weeks after she died to go back to NY. I didn't necessarily feel ready to go, but I was also just sitting around in her house with constant reminders of her, but nothing to do. It was painful to be in her house without her.

What I didn't realize was how painful it would be to come back to NY without her too.

The night before I left to NC, my friend L came over to "help me pack" (ie, drink all of the wine), and it was through tears around midnight that I was confessed that my biggest fear was coming back to NY with no job and no mom.

I am now having to face my biggest fear.

Somedays I'm okay - I can get out of bed, go to the gym, shower, apply for jobs, work on my portfolio, etc.
Somedays I stay in bed all day until the sun goes back down. Sometimes it's just too hard to get out of bed.
I feel like if I had a job, I would be forced to get up and get out and be a member of society. Which in some ways would be good, and some ways I think it would make it easier for me to bury my feelings and not feel anything.

But it's just like I have an overwhelming weight on the chest all the time. I don't cry all the time. I don't even cry everyday. But at the strangest, weirdest times it just hits me that I can't call my mom and see what she's doing.
Or to talk to her about looking for a job, and how I'm worried I won't find one. How I'm worried about money, and she's not there to tell me "it will be okay".

I have to tell myself it will be okay... and I'm not sure that it is okay.
Or I ever will be "okay". What will "okay" look like?