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Bonnie Goldberg's Story > Storyteller Feature

Featuring: Bonnie Goldberg
Written by: Adara Bernstein
 

"My Mother, My Best Friend" 


Comments: 5 Published on: May 10, 2009 Views: 17,390

Category: Loss

Runner up for the Mother's Day story contest. A story of the pain and frustration of watching someone enjoy the very thing that is killing them.

My Mother, My Best Friend

by

Bonnie Goldberg

 

For the past ten years, Mother’s Day has been difficult for me.  My boys (16 and 14), with the help of my husband of 25 years, choose thoughtful gifts.  We usually go out to a nice restaurant, but I just can’t shake the sadness.

 

You see, my mom died on Mother’s Day 1999.  She smoked for 40 years, had tried to quit for 20 of those and finally was able to stop by using hypnosis (really!).  Then, 7 years after she had taken her last puff, cancer turned up in her right lung.

 

The surgeon removed her entire lung, but the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes so we knew it was just a matter of time before it turned up again.  Mom kept on going, bravely, one foot in front of the other, like so many of her generation.  She made it 6 more years before it showed up in her left lung.  I was there with her and Dad when the doctor gave her the bad news.  “Well, you’re not taking this one.  Just send me home.”

 

So, the doctor gave us the number of the local hospice and sent us on our way.  This was the weekbefore Thanksgiving, 1998.  I was hosting the family gathering that year.  I was so bitter, what can I give thanks for?  My mom had 6 months if we were lucky, the doctor figured she would be gone by the end of the year.

 

Hospice was wonderful!  The first thing the nurse did was take Mom off all the extra medications that the doc had prescribed.  So many of her prescriptions were for counteracting the side effects of other meds… the hospice staff concentrated on Mom’s comfort only.  I love hospice for that.  Mom actually improved and for a while I fantasized that the cancer would magically disappear from her lung.

 

Of course, it was a fantasy and Mom steadily lost lung function.  I had a wonderful friend during this time that took my 4 year old in the morning and then off to preschool with her son, so I had the morning to help Dad care for Mom.  I wouldn’t have made it without Kelly, and Dad wouldn’t have made it without the hospice volunteers that stopped by every evening after I had to leave to take care of my own family.

 

As spring approached, Mom continued to decline.  It was obvious she wasn’t going to make it to the fall, which she wanted to do as it was to be Mom and Dad’s 50th wedding anniversary.  Instead, we had a little party at the house, celebrating the approximate time of their first date. Instead of 50th anniversary it was 50 years of togetherness, oh well.  I ordered food from their favorite restaurant and played hostess for the evening.

 

The first week in May, Mom slipped into a coma.  The death watch had begun.  My brothers and sisters in law started to take shifts so Dad would never be alone when the time finally came.  There was always a crowd at the house that final week, but the nights were quiet.  I wanted, needed, to take the night shifts on the weekend, and slept on the sofa in the living room next to Mom’s hospital-type bed.  That last night, I didn’t get much sleep.  Her breathing was shallow, her body was very warm.  The hospice nurse said it could be any time.  I woke up frequently, about every 20 minutes, would get up, check her breathing, and feel her by now hot forehead.  Each time I would wake with a start.  Eventually, when I got up to check her, she was no longer breathing.

 

My mom was gone; it was 3 am on Mother’s Day, 1999.

 

So, every year, my husband and boys try to do something special for me.  I try to enjoy myself, I really do, but I can’t help but grieve.  Mom was my best friend.  I miss her so much. 

 

 

Jo Marie Mann, 1948




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Member Since
Feb 2009
MaryHelen Cuellar said:
posted on May 10, 2009
Your mother was beautiful

and I'm so sorry that there is a cloud over your Mother's Day.  It took many years before I could enjoy Mother's Day again with my children after my mother died, but of course, it is doubly hard for you.  You took such good care of her.  When your mother started smoking, as with so many, the detriments of smoking were not known. 


Member Since
May 2009
Bonnie Goldberg said:
posted on May 10, 2009
Thank you

Thank you for the kind words.
Mom started smoking when she was flying.  Everyone smoked in those days and early commercial air travel made people nervous, so even more smoking occurred in the planes.  Mom figured she was breathing it in anyway.  But, they knew back then that smoking was bad.  Cigarettes were called coffin nails.  People knew, they just ignored the obvious until it couldn't be ignored any more.  I was so proud when she finally quit, thought she still had time to repair the damage.  She wanted to live to be 100, and I know she would have made it if not for the smoking.  When I see people smoking today it takes all my self control to keep from grabbing them and shaking them and telling them for their families sake to throw away those cigarettes!  Soap box rant finished...


Member Since
May 2009
Bonnie Goldberg said:
posted on May 10, 2009
Oops, typo

In that last comment, I meant family's (possessive), not families (plural) sorry about that.


Member Since
Aug 2007
Marilyn Rupert said:
posted on May 10, 2009
rant away Bonnie

Smoking is a disgusting, addictive habit that's hard to break for anyone, and is a killer. Don't be shy about those feelings - it might save a life or two.

-an ex smoker!


Member Since
May 2009
Bonnie Goldberg said:
posted on May 11, 2009
I have

thanks Marilyn,
for giving permission.  I have ranted to friends, its the strangers I feel I can't accost...  it is much better now.  Back when Mom started, right after the war, it was almost like the patriotic thing to do.  Now its socially unacceptable.  Remember when sample cigarette packs were handed out on street corners?  I guess one of the reasons I wrote this little essay was that it was my way of accosting strangers.