I arrived home and my mom greeted me at the door. It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen. She was COMPLETELY emaciated. And she looked nine months pregnant. I can't even describe how terrifying and awful it was to see your own mother like that. She looked like she was dead.
Because she was so cold from being emaciated (because she can't digest the food, it's like she's anorexic and was unable to tolerate cold), the house was 100 degrees and it smelled awful: like diarrhea (which was all over the floor from her fecal incontinence) and cigarettes. It was hell and my mom standing at the door, looking the way she did, was the gatekeeper.
I immediately told my mom that something was terribly wrong and that we needed to go to the hospital. I didn't know she had the energy, but she got angry and refused. She immediately went back to the couch (walking through her diarrhea soaked rugs) and laid down. The coach was crusted with diarrhea, her pajama pants were soiled, and her white socks were brown with hardened and new diarrhea on them.
I went upstairs and cried. I called my father, unsure of what to do. He told me to leave. He said that I should say goodbye to my mother and go back to my life. So, I called my brother. I told him he had to come TONIGHT. Mom was dying and I couldn't do this alone. My brother called my sister and told her the same thing. They were both planning to come the next day.
I also called my mom's really good friend who used to be a doctor. She was also on her way. This was mom's last chance.
I went back downstairs and mom was too weak to hold her head up. She was soiling herself as I was sitting down. So I waited.
No comments:
Post a Comment