Tag: cancer

The Gift of: A Happy Death

MPiccolo5 Comments

O Blessed Joseph, who died in the arms of Jesus and Mary, obtain for me, I beseech you, the grace of a happy death. In that hour of dread and anguish, assist me by your presence, and protect me by your power against the enemies of my salvation. Into your hands, living and dying, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, I commend my soul. Amen

March 10th 2016 will mark three years since my Mom passed away.

I’ve written about Mom in the past – this one is the fan favorite.

I wanted to write about so many things today in an effort to celebrate this most blessed anniversary of hers.

But after several drafts and re-writes, it seems I’m supposed to write about those 3 days. A Friday, Saturday and a Sunday 3 years ago.

Clearly, this will be a brief version with just the highlights.

There were many of us in the family that were there those 3 days but in an effort to protect their privacy, I’d like to just share my own views of those final days of my Mom’s life.

 

She requested hospice on a Friday and was gone by Sunday. 3 days…just like someone else we know.

“I hope I’m making the right decision.” She just kept repeating that…over and over. How do you even respond to that?

She was incredibly lucid in those first hours, especially that first day, to the point where we were in disbelief that the hospice nurse said she wouldn’t last more than 2 more days.

“But it’s Friday! What do you mean she won’t make it the weekend? This IS the weekend!”

It’s incredibly surreal – The hospice nurses instruct you when and how to administer the morphine and it’s like watching a movie, almost like it’s happening to someone else’s family.

“Will she tell us when she needs the morphine? How do we know if it’s too much? Or not enough?”

But then it becomes too real and you just want it to be over. But you can’t wish for that because this isn’t your battle. This is hers and you just have to be there.

We were told that she is going to go through a “life review” which at first you don’t quite believe but then you actually witness it. And it’s heartbreaking and mesmerizing and awesome and awful all at once.

By Saturday we had to laugh at certain points because if we didn’t we’d go nuts.

“She’s going to be so mad when she sees what she’s wearing and that we let the hospice nurses see her like this.”

The worst moment for me – I sat at her feet when she was in the recliner (before she had to move to the hospital bed) and just looked up at her and realized this was it. I cried at her feet and I can still hear her saying and repeating, “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

She eventually she had to be moved to the hospital bed. She just kept looking at it. She knew her own mother died shortly after being moved from the recliner to the hospital bed. I’m sure that’s what she was thinking. I know she was trying to prolong her stay here as long as she could. Not for herself, but for us. To spare us the pain of seeing her die.

She said goodbye to my nephews who recorded a beautiful voicemail for her that we played on speaker so everyone could hear. The look on her face as she listened was pure joy. I had never seen her smile like that in weeks. It was probably the most heartbreaking moment of all as we realized this was the last time she’d hear their young voices. Her grandsons were her source of joy. Hands down, they were her world. Especially Sean since he was so young and so oblivious to what was happening to “G.”

Time for a sidenote/side story:

Just two weeks prior to her death, she had ended up in the hospital again to drain fluid from her lungs. I was having a particularly bad time dealing with this and went over to my sisters to see the boys. Sean (the younger of the two) was hanging out with my brother-in-law. Out of the blue he pointed out that “Daddy has a cut on his head from shaving.” I glanced and saw, yes indeed he had a tiny cut on his head. Sean was asking me to look at it. I said I saw it but was clearly preoccupied with my Mom’s illness to not particularly care all that much.  Sean looked me in the eye and said in his sweet little 4 year old voice: “I’m going to pray that my Dad is healed from that cut. Because you know what auntie? God hears my prayers. Did you know that? He hears my prayers.”

Twice. My nephew said this twice and looked at me in the eye as if he was channeling someone.  I just looked at him and almost started crying. I wanted to tell him, “God DOES hear your prayers. And right now can you please pray that G is healed? Please?! I don’t want to lose my Mom!”

But I didn’t. I just remember that moment as being so surreal. How innocent a child prays. It wasn’t even a question – “Do you think God hears my prayers??” It was a STATEMENT. “God hears my prayers Auntie.” I will never forget that.

Sunday – I remember that morning as the one that my Mom saw her Dad. She spoke to him and said things like “Daddy, I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?  This wasn’t in the brochure! She’s not supposed to be scared!”

She also said things that were incomprehensible as she flowed in and out of lucidity. Sometimes her eyes were opened and she spoke but you could tell she wasn’t talking to us. I don’t recall responding too often so as not to confuse her. But I also felt like if I spoke or responded to her, that would be…rude. 🙂  She was clearly having a private conversation with someone and I was not about to interfere with that.

It was a sunny day and I thought “What a beautiful day to leave and go home!”  However, things didn’t progress that well. In fact, we called the hospice nurse on call to tell us what to do. We were concerned she was in pain! After all, she kept saying she was afraid. So that must mean she’s in pain, right?

“She’s in spiritual pain. Have you prayed with her?” – the hospice nurse asked.

The look on my face was complete embarrassment.

Had I prayed with my mother on her deathbed?  NO! Duh!!! What the heck was wrong with me?

I prayed with her as best I knew. I think many of us said the Our Father because that seemed to be the only prayer we all knew.

“How do you pray with someone who can’t hear you and can’t speak?”

I was clueless.

Sunday evening – We called her priest to come and give her last rites. He also managed to ask a question I was all too embarrassed to NOT know the answer to –

“What’s your mother’s favorite prayer?”

I went from feeling like a decent daughter to being the worlds worst. I had never even bothered to ask my Mother’s favorite prayer.

We ended up praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet at her bedside which I think she would have approved.

Shortly before she passed, I ran out of “prayers” and instead took all the cards anyone had ever sent her and read them all out loud to her. I took her hand, told her it was okay for her to go and said I would see her in the morning.

My dad took over the “shift” change.

I went up to bed and prayed and cried to God to please ease my Mom’s sickness.

An hour later she passed away with my Dad at her side.

I don’t even recall crying. I immediately thought God heard my prayer just an hour before.  (Thanks to Sean for restoring my faith in prayer).

 

My Mom was always happy and forever smiling during her life and in countless pictures.

As her body lay there, I stared at her. She looked so….GOOD! As if she would just sit up and say, “What are you looking at? Be happy for me! I’m home!”

I couldn’t help but think …

…that’s how you die a happy death.

 

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Mom Comes Home

MPiccolo4 Comments

Momandme1

My mom passed away one year ago today and ever since, I have been adding a little bit here and there to this blog post, knowing I’d want to publish something on the anniversary of her death.

At first I was going to write about her life.  And maybe someday I will.  But now right now.  Today I want tell you the journey she took to her final resting place.

She was diagnosed in August of 2009 with a rare type of T-cell lymphoma.  She had already been displaying strange symptoms since March of that year but it took months of tests to finally diagnose her.  After 6 rounds of chemotherapy, she was declared to be in remission by her oncologist.  We celebrated that Thanksgiving.  It seemed it was a miracle, although we were warned this type of cancer could come back in a few years and chemo might not work.

That news did not deter my Mom from living her life as “wild” as a 62year old could.  She spent as much time doing things she enjoyed and said YES a lot more than she said NO.  She would babysit my nephews more often.  She would attend my nephews baseball games and come with us to Cedar Point and went to every wedding and graduation party she was invited to.  Lots of lunches and dinners with friends and family as often as possible.

justmom1

In June of 2012, she started having symptoms again.  This time, all the tests came back negative for lymphoma.  But it was obvious to all of us, and her, that something wasn’t right.  This time instead of a cough and a rash, it was stomach pain.  And back pain.  And loss of her voice.  Although her voice never completely went away, it was probably one of the worst things to happen to her.  See, she was quite the gabber.  She talked to my sister every morning over the phone for years!  She’d chat with friends over lunch, she’d chat with her customers at the bridal store she worked at.  That was all gone once she lost her voice.  Not to mention the pain she was in was heartbreaking to witness.

Now, I’d come downstairs to see her in the recliner, sleeping, or trying to sleep, and in pain.  The worst was the feeling of hopelessness as you watch someone in pain and there’s nothing you can say or do to help.  Too sick to go to work.  Too tired to go anywhere.  Too weak to even move off the recliner.  This went on for most of the summer until August when removal of her lymph node confirmed that her cancer was back.  It had been a frustrating time since every other test did not show the cancer.  But her oncologist said it was the type that hides.  Well, it stayed hidden for months.

The chemo this time around was changed slightly to treat the cancer.  And after a few treatments it seemed to be working.  As anyone who knows someone or is on chemo will tell you, it’s like a rollercoaster.  She had her good weeks when she was able to have enough energy to shop and visit with friends and she had bad weeks when it took many days to recover from the chemo.

momsleigh

By the time Christmas came around, it seems as though she took a turn for the worse.  It became harder for her to breathe and she seemed weak.  She didn’t want to sleep for fear of not waking up.  She slept downstairs in the recliner and there was always someone with her at all times.  A few days before Christmas she went into the hospital and it didn’t look good.  We weren’t sure she would be home for Christmas at all.  But she was determined.  She knew the situation wasn’t good but she also knew she didn’t want to die in a hospital.  She insisted to her doctor that she was going to go home.  I believe his initial reaction was, “We’ll see.”  But my Mom was quite stubborn.  There was no way she was going to miss Christmas.

The situation was so grim, that she actually sat with me in the hospital and told me her final wishes.  It wasn’t really a conversation.  It was definitely one-sided as she spoke and I cried.  She told me the dreams she had for me, she told me how she knew everyone would be okay but that we should look after each other.  She did say something quite funny actually:  “Michelle, oh you don’t need any man in your life so you’ll be okay.”  🙂  Thanks Mom, ha!

But she also said some sad things like “I don’t think Sean will remember me.”

“I don’t have any regrets in my life…but I do feel like I’m being cheated a little bit.   I really wanted to watch Matthew play baseball one more time.”

“I’ve never been afraid of dying and I’ve always been a faithful person…but I’m wondering where is my faith right now?”

“I know this last round of chemo won’t save me.  But if I could just have a few more months…”

Well, God heard her prayers, all of our prayers.  Because the next day she got the all clear to come home.

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The first thing she insisted on doing when we got her home was to finish wrapping the Christmas gifts.  She could barely lift the scissors and the tape but she insisted.  She was adamant about celebrating Christmas.  It was always her favorite holiday, especially to see the look on my nephews faces as they opened up their gifts.  And us too.

As we celebrated Christmas that year, it was clear this was going to be her last.  You didn’t want to think about it, you didn’t want to believe it.  But you knew.  And you knew that she knew.

January and February of 2013 were pretty good.  We actually had hope for a little bit.  The best was when her voice came back.  I came down the stairs to the sound of my Mom on the phone with my Aunt.  I said, “Your voice Mom!!! It’s back!”  She was glowing, she was so excited.  It was the first REAL evidence that there was some hope here.

But, most of the time, you could tell she didn’t want to get her hopes up too high.  None of us did.  I always prayed for her to be healed.  To be cured.  I couldn’t help but think, “Are my prayers just being ignored?  What gives?”

Mom had one more GREAT day.  She got to spend it with my aunt at the casino downtown and eating Paczki on Fat Tuesday.  She said to my Aunt,  “This was the best time I’ve had.”  She took this picture of her in the car, with her paczki of course.

Fat Tuesday with a Paczki!
Fat Tuesday with a Paczki!

It was literally a week or two later that she was fine one day and bad the next.  You always hear about how that happens and you always think, “Oh I’m sure they’re exaggerating.”  No really, she was really okay one day and the next day she couldn’t breathe.  She went in to get the fluid drained from around her lungs and her heart and while she was there she sent all of us a text that said: “Hospice worker coming at one. Can you come?”

Well that pretty much knocked the wind out of me.  It was one thing for one of US to think about hospice.  But when SHE is initiating it…that changes the ball game.

Ironically, when we all walked in around the same time, my Mom looked better than ever.  She looked like she never had cancer.  It was the strangest sight.  The hospice worker even looked at her like, “Ummm…are you sure you need hospice?”

But that was our Mom’s gift to us.  She knew none of us would ever recommend or even say the word hospice unless she said it first.  It had to be her decision.

It was clear from talking to hospice that Mom wasn’t quite there yet and she had options.

She came home the next day though and we thought, “Okay maybe she has more time than we thought.  Maybe this isn’t so bad.”

About a week later, she was back in the hospital again.  This time she couldn’t breathe again, and needed to be drained, again.  But as soon as they drained her, shortly thereafter, the fluid was back.  It was getting to be too much and they couldn’t keep up with the drainage.

She needed to be put into a wheelchair to get back into the car.  And when she came home we needed to help her into the house.  That’s when she changed right in front of my eyes.

Her voice became tiny and high pitched, and she said her legs felt “weird” and she said she was ashamed and embarrassed that she needed a wheelchair to get into her own house.  We told her not to worry about it but you could tell the life that was inside her was diminishing.  I looked at her for the first time and she looked like she aged 20 years in that minute.

Two days later she asked for hospice.  She sat there with me and told me “This is no way to live.  Call hospice, it’s time.”  I didn’t argue with her.  I don’t think I even cried.  I was more just in shock  that this was happening.

I stopped praying for healing or a cure.  I knew it wasn’t because God wasn’t answering my prayer, He was trying to tell me I was praying for the wrong thing.  This time, I prayed for her to go home.

3 days later, she took her last breath with my Dad at her side.  Those three days were quite possibly the most beautiful moments as well as the most awful three days of my life.  No one should have to see a loved one dying in front of them.  But there were moments from that weekend I will never forget and some day I will write a nice long post about it.

Until then, I take comfort in the memories I have of my beautiful mother.  The notes she left us that we found at Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas.  The pictures of her around this huge empty house.  The sound of her voice and her laugh that I still have on saved voicemails and videos.  And of course, the look on people’s faces when they speak about her.  I have given up trying to tell people how amazing she was.  They simply will never know her and as much as it hurts and pains me to know that YOU will never know who she was, it’s okay now.  She lives on in me and my sister and my brother and my nephews.  So if you ever want to get to know her, just ask me.

I could talk about her forever.

zoofamily

Missing Mother

MPiccolo1 Comment

“How are you doing?”

When I get asked that question lately the subject always goes to the competition.  Always.  And I’m not tired of talking about it….yet.

Everyone wants to know what I’m doing, what I’m eating, how I’m working out, how do I stay on track, who’s your coach, how many weeks left, where is it, how much are tickets, what time will you be on stage???  The questions keep coming and I keep answering them with a smile on face, eager to share all the exciting news and information.

But when I’m alone, and no one is asking how I’m doing, I think about Mom.  I think it’s normal to think of her, especially when it’s quiet, when there’s not much going on.  OR when you’re counting down the hours until your next meal. 😉

But, unfortunately, the more I think about her, the more I miss her.  The more I miss her, the more upset I get.   And I get upset when I realize how much she’s missing out on.

She’s not here to watch me practice in my heels traipsing around the house in my bikini practicing my posing.

She’s not here to see me cook and prep my food and perhaps ask for a taste of something for herself.

She’s not here to take my progress photo’s and tell me my bikini is crooked or my hair is a little bit off.

She’s not here to tell me what she thinks about my ideas for the website or the book I want to write someday or the team I want to build after this is over.

She’s not here to tell me what kind of jewelry I should wear for the competition or how I should do my hair or what color my suit I would look best in.

She’s not here now and she won’t be there in October and she won’t be around to celebrate when it’s done.

And it sucks.

It’ll be the first of many “She’s not here” moments and there are going to plenty afterwards.  There have been many already.

But I do pray that on that day I feel her around me, cheering me on, whispering in my ear to keep going, to not be nervous, to do my best.

I hope and pray she’ll be there.  In the audience, smiling and beaming, proud and happy for her daughter.

 

 

5 months to go

MPiccoloLeave a comment

Or 159 days to be exact.   I wanted to have a special little “anniversary/countdown/I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this” post at the 6 month mark but life got in the way.

So much to update everyone on starting with the most exciting news:  I have booked a photo shoot for early June.  I’m really excited about this opportunity to showcase my progress so far.  I was feeling very unmotivated in March and earlier this month and this really was the goal that I needed to kickstart back into action.  Of course the photos will be posted as soon as it’s done and available. 🙂

Secondly, I joined a BLT Challenge courtesy of Nicole from Curls & Whey Training.

What’s BLT you ask?  Well it stands for Bites, Licks and Tastes.  Those little cheats, as little as they may or may not be, do add up.  For the average person just trying to shed a few pounds, do they make a difference? I would answer that it depends.  For someone like me trying to compete and get ready for a photo shoot? They absolutely matter.  Because in my mind I might say “Just one dark chocolate square won’t hurt.”  But guess what? I don’t have just one. I might have two or three or half a bar.  So what happened to “just one bite?”  Yep, it adds up and makes a difference probably more mentally than physically.

The challenge consists of teams of 3-4 people who pay a small fee that will go towards the prizes for the winning team.  You must record every BLT you have over the course of 2 weeks.  Just two weeks.  If you do have a BLT, you must pay a $1.  What’s just $1?  Well, again, small price you might say.  But after a few bucks, they add up to more $$$ correct?  Hmmm…are you getting the point?

The challenge officially started today and so far I am at 100% compliant with my plan.  Speaking of my plan, I’m trying a new plan out from a difference coach for now.  This particular plan incorporates what’s called Carb Cycling.  Two days of low carbs, 1 day of moderate carbs and one day of high carbs.  Then you start over with your low carbs.   I’ve done it for just a week and feel incredibly better.  I’m not feeling inclined to cheat (nothing to do with the challenge), I feel fuller longer, I’m not staring at the clock wondering when my next meal will be and I feel more alert than before as well.  I’ve also changed my workouts slightly to incorporate less steady state and more HIIT.  I think the combination of both of these is starting work very well.

Speaking of temptations and lack of cheating, one of our members at the studio brought in THESE the other day.

The Devil.
The Devil.

Ummm…Hello there sugary deliciousness, nice to see you again. Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies.  Home made.  Soft batched. Free.

I somehow managed to have zero of these.  But here’s the best part – I didn’t exactly want them.  Yes, I told one of my male co-workers to eat them so I wouldn’t.  Yes I smelled them.  Yes they were described to me as being AMAZING tasting.  But perhaps it helped that they were brought in to work when I was just a couple hours away from the end of my shift.  Or maybe it helped that I had JUST finished eating Meal #3.  Or maybe it was the carb cycling taking effect.  All I know is that I avoided them and they were not at work the next day to stare at me for 6 hours.

This is what we call a Non-Scale Victory, or NSV.  This was a huge NSV.

Lastly, I’ve been getting some really sweet feedback on this blog as of late and I just want to say thanks to all of you who read my stuff.  I know alot of you read it without commenting and that’s quite alright.  I’m happy to inspire as many people as I can!

Not to close on a negative note but I must share that yesterday morning I was surrounded by cancer.  Three items were on the kitchen table – The Plain Dealer, Experience Life Magazine and a letter addressed to my Mom from the American Cancer Society Relay for Life.

The Plain Dealer headline was about Cancer Clinical Trials and showed the journey of a 58 year old brain cancer patient, EL Magazine has a story about “A Healthier Way to Fight Cancer,” and lastly the piece of mail.

I hadn’t read the article in EP…I skimmed through the PD article…but I did open the letter.  I’m not sure what I was expecting to see or read but nothing could have prepared me to read the words “Dear Cancer Survivor.”

It was like a punch to the gut.  I was literally surrounded by all this literature that was a stark reminder of my Mom’s struggle and passing.

As much as it sucked to read all of this, especially at a time when I wasn’t expecting to read it, I had to look at what the message really was:

That there is hope (trials), there is a more holistic way to prevent it (integrative oncology according to the article you can find here) and there are survivors out there still raising funds for a cure (Relay for Life).

So to end on a positive note – Here’s to hope, health and happiness.

-Michelle

All About Mom

MPiccolo7 Comments
May 22nd, 1948 - March 10th, 2013
May 22nd, 1948 – March 10th, 2013

My Mom was my biggest fan. You can see how she commented on quite a few of my posts and was my photographer for my progress pics. She was very supportive of my endeavors and always found an opportunity to say “I’m so proud of you honey!”

Although I know she probably cringed as I became the Tupperware queen as I would leave some of my empty containers all around the kitchen, she did express to me many times how she loved that I cooked and prepared all my meals. “There’s my cooking daughter, cooking up a storm in there!” she would say.

These last few weeks of my mother’s life were especially difficult. She knew her health was deteriorating and although she said she was trying to remain positive, I think she knew something was terribly wrong. Instead of focusing on the negative feelings and the horrible things that happened, I’m trying to remind myself of all the good things that took place, especially these last three months. I can’t help but smile a little as I reflect on them today:

– I was able to make my Mom some delicious smoothies every morning, some of which she said “This is the BEST one yet!”

– When I would come home from the grocery store with food from my meal plan from my nutrition coach, she actually asked if she could eat some of it too.  It was such a joy to be able to cook for my Mom! The orange roughy I baked was her favorite by far.

– Wednesday night, just two days before she asked for hospice, she looked over at me and said “I’m tasting for something but I don’t know what…maybe some oatmeal. Do you have any oatmeal?”  DO I HAVE OATMEAL?!  I have a membership to Costco and stocked up on the stuff, I HAVE Oatmeal Mom! 🙂  She wanted butter, milk and some sugar in it.  I brought it over to her and apologized for not making it very “mushy” and instead it came out “watery.”  But she gobbled it up anyways.

-Thursday night she asked for oatmeal again.  “This time could you make it less watery?”  I whipped up the butteriest, milkiest, sugariest oatmeal anyone could ask for.  It was the last thing she ate.  I was honored to do it.

-She was able to celebrate Fat Tuesday and have a paczki with my Aunt just a couple weeks ago. She told my aunt it was “The best time I’ve ever had!”

Fat Tuesday with a Paczki!
Fat Tuesday with a Paczki!

-I drove her to my nephews basketball game a few days later which would be the last time she was out of the house.  And what a game! Triple Overtime and they won! 

– The last thing I said to her before she passed was reading to her from her own book, “A Grandma’s Book” that was given to my nephews.  It’s all about her.  I read an excerpt from her “Favorite Things.”  For those that didn’t know her, here are a few of them:

“I love my friends, I love my family, I love them more than life itself.  I love hummingbirds, I love CHOCOLATE.  Especially Lindt Truffles.  I love Tote Bags, I have about 20 of them!  …I love baking bread and giving it to my friends at holidays.  I love the smell of freshly cut grass.  I love when it’s thunderstorming outside and I’m safe and sound in my house.”

I know I’ve said it before but my Mom was simply the best that there ever was.  Her smile was the biggest, her heart was the largest, her love was the greatest.

October 17th 2012 - 42 Years of Marriage
October 17th 2012 – 42 Years of Marriage

I had toyed with the idea of throwing in the towel on this competition.  I even thought about giving up on eating healthy, on working out in general.  But after talking to my sister and a few other folks, it’s pretty obvious Mom would be PISSED if I gave up.  She’d especially feel guilty for being the REASON to give up. 

So I’m back on it today.  I started back on my meal plan a couple of days ago but today is the first full day of getting my habits back in line.  It’s rough…but it’s not nearly as rough as she had it.  I have to remind myself my Mom had quite a tumultuous 6 months.  I try to live each day for her now. I only hope I can be a reflection of what she was like.  I definitely have some big shoes to fill, I’m sure I will never fill them.  But I will try to live each day with that bright smile on my face. 

Love You Mom!

"Light The Night" Fundraiser for LLS
“Light The Night” Fundraiser for LLS