Monday, February 20th, 2006
President’s Day
8 AM
I have never been a heavy sleeper; the tiniest noises can disturb my slumber. This is how it has been for as long as I can remember; my parents have often said how difficult it was to get me to go to sleep as a baby, and even when I would finally fall asleep, it wouldn’t be for long.
So, when I was sleeping in the living room the morning my mother was rushed to the hospital, it is no surprise that I woke up.
President’s Day 2006, my friend and I were having a sleepover to celebrate our Monday off from school. We slept in the living room because our couch at the time pulled out into a bed, and as fourth graders, sleeping downstairs was a lot of fun.
I rolled over, opened my eyes, and saw an image that will never be erased from my memory: my mother, my rock, my best friend, being carried out of our house on a stretcher, waving goodbye to me.
My friend and I were brought to her house, and I was to stay with her and her family until further notice.
At home, my mother couldn’t stop vomiting. Even when there was nothing left inside of her. The unrelenting dry heaving is what made my father call 9-1-1. And at the hospital, the dry heaving continued. The doctors became so worried that they sedated her, fearful she would break a rib if it continued.
While sedated, the doctors ran a bunch of tests, including a blood test. The results of her blood test were shocking, even to a room full of doctors: her pancreatic enzyme levels reached 40,000, when a normal person’s levels range from 0-160.
From here, my mother was admitted to the ICU.
After much time and debate, the doctors discovered that my mother had pancreatitis. As it turns out, my great grandmother had pancreatitis as well; pancreatic divisum actually, it runs in our family. Of all of the patients diagnosed with pancreatitis, only 7% are caused by divisum, and of that 7%, only 10% actually ever have any symptoms. Wasn’t my mom a lucky one…
She remained in the ICU for ten days. Since I was only ten years old, I was kept out of the loop with the scary details, so much so that only recently did I discover that my mother almost died.
There is no cure for pancreatitis, and eventually my mom required an extremely serious surgery to allow her to live with less pain. She had her gallbladder removed initially, only that wasn’t enough. Then her spleen ruptured, and she needed emergency surgery. And then the doctors wanted to remove part of her pancreas. Traumatized from her two previous surgeries, my mother wanted to do everything in her power to avoid another.
For someone living with pancreatitis, the only way to minimize the pain is to completely cut fat out of your diet. And for about eight years, this is how my family lived. We figured out ways to turn foods with high fat content into foods with remotely no fat. Most of what you can think of, we have transformed: lasagna, cheeseburgers, waffles, pizza, chicken cutlets… we grilled and baked instead of fried, switched to all fat-free ingredients, switched to skim milk, etc. Living in my house, you would consume less than ten grams of fat a day.
But even on this diet, my mother was constantly in and out of the hospital. Check up after check up, procedure after procedure…
Growing up watching your mother go through something like this can really leave a lasting impression on you.
You look at your mom as a hero, as someone who can do anything. She helps you with things that you struggle with, and it’s almost as if there is no problem your mother cannot solve. But when she is sick, she cannot do this, she cannot take care of you; you need to take care of her. Taking care of the person who is supposed to take care of you is a strange role-reversal, and for those who have had to do so, you understand. The person you have always gone to for reassurance that everything is going to be okay is now the one who needs to hear it.
How am I supposed to know if everything’s going to be okay? That’s what I go to you for. You always make everything better; assure me that everything is going to be okay. Make yourself better. Make yourself okay.
Having a sick mom is the scariest reality, and the biggest wake up call; in some situations, even your mother cannot fix everything.
All you want is for her to get better. You would do absolutely anything to take her pain away. I am not a religious person, but I have prayed to every God at least a dozen times over the course of my life for my mother’s health to improve. You cannot even fathom the thought of living without her, and living with that as a constant fear is horrifying. Receiving that phone call from your father telling you that your mother is in the hospital again, fearing that this time might be the time she doesn’t come home with you…
Luckily for my family, my mother is much better today. She ended up having to go through with the big surgery two years ago, and in total, has had her gallbladder, spleen and 70% of her pancreas removed. She has lived with this illness for ten years, and up until the removal of the majority of her pancreas, has lived in pain. My family has been very blessed, and we can only hope my mother’s health continues to stay in this condition.
