Goodbye mom.

As I wrote in my previous post, my mother was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer in July of this year. She completed radiation and had done her first chemo session but seemed to be getting rapidly worse and was dealing with blood clots in her legs.

On Tuesday, September 29th, my father called me and said “They’re taking your mother to St. Josephs. It’s happening. This is the end.”

My mother, Nancy McCall, suffered a stroke at her second session of chemotherapy from which she was unable to recover.

I took a Lyft to St. Joseph’s Hospital and called my siblings from the road. When I arrived at the hospital she was completely paralyzed on her left side and unable to communicate. She had a few moments where she seemed to know we were there, where she opened her eyes and looked at us, where she squeezed the hand of whoever was holding it at that moment, but for the most part, she did not seem to have any real awareness of what was happening. We were all with her in the hospital, holding her hand and talking to her as if there might still be some hope, but when the doctor came in it was immediately clear that there was none. The effects of the stroke were too extensive. If it were not for the cancer she might have stood a chance to recover but it would take years and she would need to stop chemo and without chemo, she wouldn’t have years. Then again, if it were not for the cancer she probably would not have had the stroke. If it were not for the stroke she might have been able to recover from the cancer… then again… if she had gotten the cancer screening she wanted last year that the insurance company denied her due to her not being a high enough risk… well. I suppose this line of thinking isn’t really useful now anyway. If we’re just making wishes why not go big and wish for an end to all cancer, and throw in world peace while you’re at it.

Mom has always been clear about her wishes should she be incapacitated in this way. She does not want to be kept alive on machines with tubes down her throat. When she was first diagnosed she told me she was not afraid of death because she assumed it would be quick. Dad also revealed that just the day before she had talked to him about foregoing further chemo treatments and just entering hospice. She was ready for the end to her suffering. Dad begged her for more time then, and even in the hospital where she laid there unable to speak or move he begged her, ‘Not today, just please not today.’

We made her wishes clear to the doctor, that she has a DNR and that palliative care would be the next steps. We made plans to move her into an inpatient hospice facility but she would be gone before a bed ever opened up. During her final days, my father did not leave her side. On October 1st at 5:10 am she finally reached the end of her suffering and shut her eyes for the last time. I arrived at 5:15 am. Just missed her.

I brushed her hair before the nursing staff came in to clean her up and zip her into the body bag, which is more of a boxy tent than a bag. My father and I walked alongside her as they wheeled her gurney to the morgue and then we said goodbye and left without her. We met my sister and her husband, my brother, and my best friend Patti for breakfast in Fells Point at the Waterfront Hotel. We had bloody Mary’s and Irish coffee’s and toasted a final ‘Hail Nancy’ and for just a little while it was almost like a normal day.

The last thing my mother messaged me was about her excitement that her mail-in ballot was in that day’s mail. When she left for chemo that morning The night of her stroke, while she was still with us, I made sure her ballot made it into the mailbox. It gives me comfort that we could ensure this task that was so important to her was not left unfinished.

We buried her, unembalmed, at Bestgate Memorial Park in Annapolis in a woven bamboo casket with wildflowers in a mossy wooded spot in a hand-dug grave marked by a river rock. The service was opened by Rocky Racoon by The Beatles. Her son-in-law, Doug, gave a moving and funny eulogy about the loving example set by our parents, specifically the time he saw dad grab her butt while they were walking together in New York on a visit during the Christmas season. He said they helped him to believe in true love. My brother also spoke about the strength and positivity our mother embodied. Cousin Kevin came up and spoke a few words about what his Aunt Nancy meant to him. We concluded the service with Our House by Crosby Stills Nash & Young. I and my siblings and Cousin Cliff and Uncle George carried her pall as Let it Be played us out. We lowered her by rope into her grave and everyone in attendance was able to contribute a shovel full of dirt to cover her.

She’s at rest.

I don’t really know what more to say.

Mom and I could crack each other up. No one but my sister really matches my sense of humor the way mom always did. We used to riff on something and just laugh til’ we cried. We started 2020 running a 5k together in Patterson Park on New Year’s Day. We could never have guessed it would be the last one. I miss her. I always will.