a.gloomy.girlie (mytwistedpsyche) wrote,
a.gloomy.girlie
mytwistedpsyche

  • Mood:

RIP Barbara Ann (Bobo) McCormick

my g-ma died, it happened early yesterday morning. We had spent the day and night in limbo just going minute by minute as she continued to get worse. They also told us that she had stage 4 cancer of her liver, as well as the cancer in her lung and that she was terminal with internal bleeding. The prognosis was poor and even if she had gotten released that she would be on hospice since there was nothing that could be done. Early in the day she was awake and aware, just struggling to breathe even with a mask and 100% oxygen. We went and talked and joked with her a little and she told us to keep "talking about love. just to keep talking about love. keep the conversation going." They finally had to intubate (sedate and put a tube down her windpipe to force oxygen into her lungs) so she wouldn't have to work so hard to breathe but by that point with no immune system she had so much infection in her blood that her heart began to fail. We were all out in the hallway discussing options on treatment (or non treatment) when they called the code blue, and attempted to bring her back. They did regain a pulse but did come and let us know that it was only a matter of minutes so if we wanted to say our goodbyes this was the time. It was only about 15 minutes before it was all over.

It all took only 2 weeks, she was in the hospital for her wedding anniversary and her birthday. She was in good spirits, and optimistic that she would return home and that she would be able to fight. Not one minute did she look afraid, or angry, or sad. Her fight was very courageous and she remained strong throughout. She will be greatly missed.

The eerie thing was about 2 weeks ago after she woke up after they did the bronchoscopy (scope into the lungs to find out about the condition of them) and told her that she had the lung cancer but that they didn't know the type yet and thought they could treat it with chemo and see what happened, she told my mother and i "well, that went better than i thought... i thought i'd wake up and they'd tell me that i had two weeks to get my shit together, and i thought how in the world am i going to sort thru all that shit at home in two weeks." and low and behold, it's been about two weeks.

I think she knew. and she still wasn't afraid. I only wish I could be that strong. Don't get me wrong, I am in no way glad that she's gone and it happened quickly, but as compared to the struggle she would have had later this is better. Cancer is PAIN and that's not a life you're leading when it gets to the point of hospice, it's just a continuation of your death.

I only wish I could be that strong. We'll miss you, 'mam.
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 3 comments