The Rest Of The Story

I'm spending too long between posts, I know, because I'm having a hard time remembering what things happened in exactly what order, but I'll try not to miss anything and I'll hope that anyone reading this who was also there (that'll mostly be you Trish and Christine) can correct me.

Having said that, I need to back up briefly because Christine won't stop asking me to write this part down. Well, two parts. One that I will refuse to elaborate on here but she told me last night that I need to at least put something down so I won't forget about it: potatoes. That's all. That's a part of the story I'll want to remember years from now, I'm sure, and I'll share in person but it's probably not something I should put in writing.

Second is the very first meeting Trish and I had.

I knew from the text messages that she'd be arriving any minute but out of the blue Mom asked for a slice of apple. We had done that earlier in the day and I'd forgotten that she didn't like the peel and so she'd spit out the peel after she'd chewed it, so this time I was going out make sure I did it right. I stepped out of the room on my way to the family lounge to get a knife and turned and there she was, walking toward me with Jim a few steps behind. She said "Justin?" and I'm pretty sure I replied "Trish!" and then we hugged. Pretty much what you would expect from a meeting like this, common enough in hospital hallways, I image. Then she said "You're so tall!" To which I replied, demonstrating my unique observational skills, "You're not!"

Oh well, I'll have ample opportunity in the coming years for Trish to experience my wit and a dopey first greeting is probably a good tone to set for her to feel like the big sister. Clearly I can be caught off-guard even if I'm 'on' most of the time.

Okay, Sunday morning we got in to the hospital and I waited in the lobby for them. I think we planned to do this, I know I wanted to because I thought it would be best for us to come into the room together. Jim offered to stay in the car until we sent him a text message saying it was okay to come in, so we could have our private talk with Mom, which turned out to be longer than we'd thought but he soon enough had Gregory and Zita to chat with in the parking lot, we found out.

I don't particularly believe in fate, but unlike the previous two mornings, when Mom had been pretty tired and pretty out of it, this morning she was bright and alert and in a good state of mind to talk. I'm resisting the urge to say it was meant to be but that's certainly how it felt. I don't remember how long we talked to her, but I'm pretty sure it was a little before 9:30am when we went in and it was after 10:00am when I left Trish and Mom to talk alone together. I tried to lead the discussion at first, I could tell Trish was having a very hard time speaking and I knew if I didn't do something I'd be in the same boat. I think we got to tell her everything I thought we needed to as her kids. The important stuff, that we'd met, that we were getting along, that we had felt a connection right from the beginning and that we were already sharing the kinds of stories that you wouldn't share with anyone who wasn't family. That we already had that level of trust that you get from being siblings and that we were going to keep it going. The stuff she needed to know in order for her to feel like her dream of us doing stuff together would still happen.

I left them to talk for a while, too, and just waited in the family lounge for her. When she came in I shut the door and her and I talked together again for a long time, sometimes about her family, sometimes about mine, sometimes about our own stories about Mom. We have a lot to catch up on. She still worries a bit about talking about her adoptive family, but I'm sure after a while she'll get comfortable with the idea that I really do want to know about that stuff too since they're the people who were around her all her life and that's important to me.

Anyway, we finally let Jim come in and there was another, now fairly typical, reasonably large group of visitors there so we spread out into the family lounge. We were talking there when Christine arrived. I had started to dial her number on my cell to let her know that the nurses were in with Mom and she should come down to the lounge directly when she popped up behind me. This was, for the record, the first time I had any hint that she had carried through on her long-term plan of getting a haircut. Again I had one of my brilliant moments and said "Oh my God! What'd you do to yourself?"

Thankfully she knows me well enough now to know that was in no way a criticism, in fact I think the new cut looks great, but if I'm not on top of it all the time utterly inappropriate things will fly out of my mouth. It's a curse but it's at least occasionally amusing for the bystanders.

I don't really remember most of the rest of the day now. We visited for a while longer, we went out for a bit, we came back for a bit then we went over to Brenda and Steve's place (I think that was Sunday) and spent the evening going through boxes.

Oh, right, I forgot why.

On Saturday night the curiosity was killing me and I finally had to ask Trish about Mom's paintings. I knew she didn't have any and I knew it was because Mom had been waiting for her to ask for one. I knew this because we had asked Mom if she had given any to Trish and she had said, in a response that is so typical of my mother that I'll be able to hear her say it to my dying day, "No, she didn't ask for one and I don't want to force any on her."

Anyway, so I asked if she knew she had been expected to ask for a painting if she wanted one. I was leading up to asking her which of the ones Mom had done she would like to take because I knew she would want some even if Mom didn't know that. Trish was floored by the idea that she had painted actual paintings, she knew Mom was taking art classes but she never knew she had painted anything she had framed and hung up.

So part of Sunday morning was Trish and Mom talking about the art that Mom had done and was still hanging up in her townhome. Mom told her that she should have the ones hanging in the living room if she wanted them, which included the first thing she had ever painted and framed, a scene from Cavendish beach, and I think the last one she had painted, a farmhouse on a country road in Quebec. Both of which are incredible by the way.

That's why we were over going through boxes on Sunday night, we had started looking at paintings (Trish felt bad about taking anything I wanted but I really, really want to share with her and it's not like I don't already have several paintings from Mom at home) and then we were looking at Christmas decorations (our mom loves Christmas decorations and she's got a lot) and deciding who should take what and then we were going through just other boxes. We found the envelope that was labelled "For Trish" that I'd thought we might have packed somewhere unfindable, and she found treasures there that she thought simply didn't exist, which was the best part of the evening for us both. To her, for finding it and to me for being there to see how happy it made her to discover this part of her history.

Monday morning came and we got in pretty early -- this isn't what Mom had wanted, she would prefer us to come in after the nurses were done with the morning routine, but we really wanted to talk to Monica -- and as luck would have it Monica was running very late. She didn't get around until after 9:00am and then Trish and I were talking to her for quite a while, mostly about what was still going on with Mom and what would happen over the next couple of days. By the time we were done we were all really hungry since we'd made a decision to meet at the hospital, catch Monica, then go out for breakfast while the nurses did their work in the room.

We did get an appointment to meet with Dr. Kelly (again, sp?) at 1:30pm that afternoon, which was the main goal, I guess, because Trish wanted to talk to him before she left and they had to take off on Tuesday morning. Somehow, though, we all nearly forgot about it and it was about twenty-five past before we left the hospital. Made the trip down to his office a little tense but he was running late and we ended up having to wait a few minutes in his waiting room. The assistant couldn't actually find us in his appointment book and I think he probably didn't actually schedule us, that he squeezed us in because of the urgency of the situation.

Finally we get to the point that I wanted to talk about yesterday. I have never sat in a room with a doctor with such an aura of calm about him. He had four people show up when I'm sure he expected no more than two, so he had to find a room big enough to accommodate all of us, then he had to find chairs and he was obviously very busy but at no point during our conversation did I feel rushed or pressured in any way. He seemed to be about 50% priest, as well, in the soothing, reassuring way he spoke and the terms he used and the analytical part of my brain (still running even while I was unable to speak because of the lump in my throat and the total breakdown threatening to hit me any second while we were talking about what is pretty clearly my mother's final days and what is to come) noted with approval that he adopted our manner of speaking, our preferred terms and our language almost immediately, stepping some things up where we showed we were better informed than the layman, reigning it in on things that were obviously upsetting to my sister and I.

And now a bit of utterly inappropriate humour. Since that first meeting I've been trying to place who he reminds me of and I figured it out today. His voice and his appearance are eerily similar to that of Jay from Daily Planet on the Discovery Channel.

I actually held it together mostly in the office and the ride back to the hospital, but that's as far as I got. I again lost it in the parking lot and just had to sit down in the grass outside the hospital for a while for a quiet cry. This situation sucks in ways I cannot describe but it felt better to do that.

We stayed with Mom for the rest of the afternoon, sneaked out quickly for a bite at the Heritage again then came back to the hospital and spent the evening just chatting amongst the four of us around Mom's bed. It seemed like she was asleep for most of the time but she did occasionally just pop up into the conversation and it was obvious she had been following it the whole time. We were there reasonably late -- none of us really wanted the moment to end -- but as we became more convinced she was asleep we felt it was best to let her get some real sleep.

It was on the way out the door that Trish was standing over her, struggling to decide if she should wake her up to tell her we were leaving or not and I remembered that Mom had always told me no matter what time I got in or what time I was going out she wanted me to wake her up and let her know so she knew I was okay. I told Trish she would want us to wake her and so she did and that's without a doubt the best moment of Monday.

Trish woke her up and told her we were going. Mom motioned her close and whispered that she was glad we had our talk yesterday and she was really happy to hear everything we had told her. Then she did the same to me. Given that we're never entirely sure right now if she's completely coherent and remembering things or not, that was probably the best thing that could have happened to us both.

Tuesday morning ... well, I started the first part of the story that I think it was the hardest thing I've had to endure yet and I still stand by it, even in light of what happened Tuesday afternoon. We talked to Monica in the morning, then Dr. Kelly, then her and I had a talk for I don't know how long. It started with us just talking in the hallway, her getting ready to leave and saying she thought she'd like a few moments alone with Mom again, and before long one of the nurses asked us if we'd like a private room, probably because seeing the two of us crying in the hallway was likely to upset other people. I tried to make her feel better about having to leave, we all understand she can't be here now, and she tried to make me believe I'm going to be able to do what I need to do in the next few days and weeks. I don't know if either of us convinced the other but at least we felt better by the time we came back to the room.

She went back into the room to say goodbye to Mom and the rest of us waited in the family lounge, to give them some privacy. I don't know about anyone else but I knew it was a very, very difficult parting with how long Trish was in the room and when she came back she couldn't speak. I don't know how I could've done it, I think she was probably stronger than I could have been in her situation, but realistically she couldn't have found more than a day or two extra here and it would have burned more chances of her getting back later on if she needs to, so it really was the best thing to do. We had our own tearful goodbye in the family lounge where I had yet another first. I have never seen my uncle Gregory cry before, but he was crying as he said goodbye to my sister. This has hit us all harder than we ever would have imagined but I also couldn't have imagined how much we've been able to help each other.

There's more, I'm still a day and a half behind, but it's time to wrap it up for now. The shift has changed and I want to find a nurse and then some food. I'll probably not be back to this until tomorrow, but I will be back, there's a discussion with Dr. Kelly I want to share, the way everyone helped me through Tuesday afternoon, the visit with Loretta, too much to tell here now.