Finding the New Normal

This has, without question, been the strangest and toughest year of my life and it's only September.

In January, I was let go from a job. I was unemployed for a month and then had two offers at the same time. I accepted the role that was in an industry that I hadn't worked in before, hoping to challenge myself. That role was a total dumpster fire. I lost sleep, my hair fell out, I gained weight, I was stressed out all of the time, I was blamed for another person's poor performance, I was belittled by a coworker, I snapped at everyone in my personal life and all around wasn't in a good place. And on top of that miserable six months, my mother died. Good gracious, I wouldn't wish that six month period on anyone.

My father texted me and my sister at 6:15 am on July 4th, 2019 to let us know that he had gone to the hospital with Mom. He found her around 5:30 in the morning on the floor of the den. She had fallen off of the couch and the couch was wet. He called an ambulance and we were with him an hour later. On the way to the hospital, Rae had her doubts regarding the severity of Mother's condition, even throwing out a vague suicide attempt possibility. When we were first approached in the ER waiting room by the doctor, before we were even able to go see her, Rae said to me, "OK, I'm worried now." Upon going through the big ER double doors, Mama was in the unit, sprawled out for everyone to see. Her nightgown had been in half cut down the middle and was still on the stretcher. The ER doctor announced to us that "our mother is on death's door." He apologized for the blunt report and then walked out. I stumbled out into the 7:00 am sun and started sobbing in ugly bellows. I couldn't breathe. I recall my Dad attempting to calm me down. I sat on the curb of an ER sobbing on America's birthday for about 10 minutes. I can still see my sister pacing close-by, crying while attempting to tell her husband that our Mother was probably going to die. That entire day is a complete blur. We were told that our next step was to move her onto the specialized floor for an options discussion. She was still alive, but we weren't sure of for how long. The three remaining Paley family members were in the dismal waiting room for hours hoping for a good outlook. The surgeon came to speak to us and I'll never forget the feeling that washed over me as the doctor was telling us what was going to happen next. It was like the moment you see in a movie where the character's face completely glazes over and you can tell that he's not hearing words anymore. I couldn't even try to tell you what was happening in that moment. I remember physically shaking myself to wake up and pay attention out of that stupor. My dad didn't understand what was happening as I watched him also glaze over. My sister was in professional medical mode. She was asking questions and absorbing everything that the doctor was telling us. All that I got before I began to phase out was "You're either going to let her die or try surgery."

After a few beats, the doctor let us know that this decision had to be made right there and then or there would be no decision to make. We had to do the best that we could for our Mother, so she began the first of three surgeries in nine hours. Rae and I went home for a few hours. We came back to find Dad still crying. I didn't stop crying until I got out of the hospital for a moment. This realization is what finally got Dad to also go home for a bit. We all showered, ate and calmed down essentially. Almost as soon as Dad got back, we were approached by the surgeon. Mom was still alive and the surgeries went as well as they could have gone. Pressure was relieved off of her brain so right now we had to wait. The doctor said he had never seen a patient react so well to the procedure. It was night and day in her levels due that release of pressure. Due to this, we were cautiously optimistic. She got moved to an ICU room so that we could sit with her and get out of the waiting room. July 4th was on a Thursday. Longest day ever. I got home and Ashley came to visit. We watched the large display of Nashville fireworks from my balcony.

I didn't go into work on Friday. We rushed to the hospital when we woke up to go be with Mom. She was heavily sedated, so it wasn't as if she would be waking up overnight but we wanted to hear what the doctor had to say during rounds. In reality, Rae needed to hear that so she could tell us what it meant. She seemed optimistic still. We spent the weekend in the hospital together, taking shifts of diligence. I didn't want to believe it, but Mom wasn't improving. She couldn't get off the sedation meds without crashing. Her kidneys weren't performing as they should be, making her body swell up. She was so swollen that her hands resembled water balloons. It was like they might burst if you squeezed too hard. Her hair had been washed after surgery and as it dried naturally, it was curly. We had never seen Mom's hair dry naturally, so we never knew it was curly. What an odd thing to discover as she's dying. I went to work on Monday, alerting my supervisors of what my next week would look like. I would be working in the morning and leaving in the later afternoon to go take the evening shift. I didn't realize that Monday would be the only day that I would be there. I even called my sister to let her know that I would be there shortly. I put away laundry at the house and really took my time. I thought I had another week of this. No one implied that Monday was the day that we would be making decisions and that I shouldn't have wasted so much time at home.

I bounced into her room with a movie to watch and wearing comfortable clothes. I sat in the open chair and smiled at my father and sister. They looked very somber and they had been upset recently. Without preamble, they announced that they had decided to stop further attempts of Mother recovering. I didn't know what to say. I didn't have time to process; the decision had been made. I started crying and making quite the scene in the room. Nurses began to stare. I broke down, asking how she could leave me like this. I implored my father to start eating better and exercising because he wasn't allowed to leave me too. I had to process her dying all at once as I had been ignoring it all weekend. The decision to not begin the dialysis process was made because her body wouldn't be able to handle the stress of it. I was told that she wouldn't be the same woman (not Mom) even if she did wake up. She definitely wouldn't be able to use one of her arms. Who knows if she could walk. I accepted it but it sucked, to say the least. The following hour was rough. The hospital team removed all of the machines and tubes that were keeping her alive. She had so much fluid in her lungs that her final breathes sounded like they were being made by a haunted house character. I wouldn't want anyone to hear those sounds being made or watch her die like that. I tried to remain composed because I was so tired of crying. I went out to the waiting room to see Dad's friends all there to support him. I started crying on Fred's shoulder but had to lock it up. I made them promise to make sure that Dad eats and that he doesn't waste away at home alone. I went back to Mom's room and she was still gagging on her own breath. It was awful. As much as I try, I'll never be able to get rid of that memory of her dying.

I got home and went upstairs. I almost collapsed in the shower. Cory let me know later on that the shortness of breath and chest pain was a panic attack. Ashley, Melanie and Rachel were downstairs with food. Dan arrived that evening. Miserable. Surrounded with support. I don't like having a lot of attention on me, but there it was. I couldn't sleep. Dan stayed with me that week. I genuinely cannot recall anything about that week in detail, I solely recall events. I remember him bringing me breakfast in bed. I remember going to Granny's house to let her know that her third child has passed before her. We went to the church and funeral home. The planning took place. It was depressing. I wanted it to be over. But Father chose to have the service over a week after she passed. I went back to work the following week on M, T, W. I wasn't much help. I didn't break down crying by any means but my mind was scattered and my workload had been depleted. I was essentially answering phones and running reports for other people. 

The funeral was a visitation, service and celebration of life. The day of the funeral, Rae, Abbie and I got our hair blown out as a way to distract ourselves from it. I had the boys at home (Dan, Evan, Jordan) hang up curtains and mount TVs. We went to Rainforest Cafe for lunch. It was such a nice time that I didn't give my Mother a thought until we were on the way home from lunch. In the garage, I started having a panic attack. I fell into Jordan and Abbie's arms. I genuinely didn't want to go. Luckily, my hair was already done because my hands were shaking so bad that I couldn't get my makeup on. Abbie helped me finish getting ready. There was a very long line of people to wish us well and offer condolences. I heard that it was a nice service. All that I got out of it was the minister calling her Polly too much and that we had to stand up too much. At one point, a single tear fell onto the hymnal. I ran out of the church almost. That sanctuary was suffocating. It started to rain as I walked out. I apologized to Dan for screaming at him due to my fragile mental state. I got to the club before the crowd. I went to the back corner of the room. I never made it out of that corner. I was approached by person after person offering their condolences. My feet began to give out. I was thirsty. The support for Mom was so nice and appreciated. I felt so bad for needing to sit down. From what I saw, the room was full. So many people. I hope Dad and Rae got to see more of it. I finally got to change into my flats. At the end of the night, I was very tired.

Dan and I had a pre-planned beach trip with Abbie, Evan and Jordan the following weekend which was a very nice way to be done with all of this. I had to stay alone in the condo one night to fully decompress. Would life be normal after we got back? Would people always tip toe around me? Would food always be in my freezer? It's September now and things have calmed down. I got out of the dumpster fire. I'm nicer to be around. Things are pointing in the right direction. I still don't know what normal without Mama looks like. We went to Savannah without her. That felt weird and strangely uneventful without Mom stirring things up. I worked in Downtown Franklin one day and I endured a physical pain knowing that we wouldn't be doing that together anymore. Honestly, I probably won't do it anymore without her. If I go, it will be because someone else planned it. The magic of our Franklin days is gone. I don't enjoy going to Dad's house. It's just a house now, not our home. I need to talk to her all the time, but I'm not able to. I still have a clear picture of her walking into my bedroom door. It's so eerie that there are things that she hung on the wall right next to me and if I take it down, she won't be in the house anymore. Sad isn't the right word for me anymore. It's as if I have a hole that I don't know how to fill.

Mom, I miss you. I love you. I hope I always keep dreaming about you.