I can remember a Christmas once, I was 15.
This particular year, it was my Aunt and Uncle that were hosting the festivities 3 hours north of Calgary in Sherwood park. The plan was, that we would basically get packed up and leave Cowtown by noon on Saturday, which was Christmas eve, and that would get us up there no later than 4:00 that afternoon.
Thing is, Mom had been really sick with the flu all week, and she had spent the last 3 days pretty much alternating between laying in bed and throwing up. It was really starting to look like we were not going to be able to make it to our family Christmas that year and that was going to suck A LOT because in the previous 15 years, we never ever didnt spend Christmas together as a family.
Well see how she feels on Saturday dad said.
Dont tell me we cant go I was thinking.
Saturday morning, My sister and I are up and in the kitchen. I am more than likely eating a bowl of capn Crunch, and she more than likely was layering peanut butter on toast. Were excited for the trip. I hear some shuffling sounds from down the hall, and Mom has made it out of bed and is coming towards the kitchen. She has her housecoat on, her fuzzy slippers, and she is taking really small little shuffle steps. She finally makes it into the kitchen, and shes kinda hunched over a bit like she cant stand straight up and shes making little whimpery whining noises as she walks.
My sister and I exchange knowing glances and I roll my eyes.
Geez Mom, come on. She always has to make it look so much worse than it is, like shes hammin it up for sympathy. Whatever.
Shed been to the doctor earlier in the week because she was really stuffed up and had a brutal sinus headache. Her glands were all swollen behind her ears and she was really nauseous. He just gave her some antibiotics and painkillers, and told her she had a bad case of sinusitis.
I was beginning to think that she just didnt want to go or something, theres no way she could still be this sick.
Then she tells us to start packing up our stuff. Were going to Sherwood Park.
Dad heard this from the living room and came into the kitchen, he wasnt so sure that was a good idea, considering how sick she was, but she would have none of it, and what Mom says goes. That went for all three of us. There was only one boss in that house.
So as bored as I was with her acting job, I was still excited to be going. My sister and I rushed around and got everything together for the trip, and mom went and got dressed.
Two hours later, we were northbound out of Calgary in our Impala, Tracey and I in the back seat, Dad driving, and mom with her head on a pillow on the window in the passenger seat. Not much was said for that trip.
Anyways, we finally got to Sherwood Park, and Mom went straight back to bed once we got there. What the ? Geez. Whatever.
She stayed in bed all day and all evening, so that night the whole crew went in to hang out with her a bit. Eventually we went to bed.
Christmas Morning, I get up all excited and rise to find that Mom is still in bed which is really strange because she was always up before everybody else on that day to get the breakfast preparations ready. I ran down to the hearth and got my stocking, and thought it would be nice to go up and open it with her.
When I walked into the bedroom there, I could tell something wasnt good. My aunt is a nurse and she seemed really concerned about something and she was talking in whispers to my dad. Then I saw Mom. I dont think I have ever felt such shock. It looked like somebody had beaten the crap out of her overnight. Her face was all bruised, and her two black eyes were almost swollen shut. She was saying stuff but it wasnt making any sense. More mumbles than words, and I didnt care about my stocking after that. My aunt wanted to get her to the hospital in Edmonton, but Mom was coherent enough to put the boots to that idea. We were going to open our presents before anybody went anywhere dammit. So we did. It wasnt very joyful though. More of a quick, perfunctory ritual with the only goal being to finish as fast as possible. Just the sounds of wrapping paper being torn by everybody at once.
I got the walkman I had asked for, and my sister got me the new Eurythmics album that came out that year. Sweet Dreams (are made of this). I guess my Aunt had been calling around to the various emergency departments in Edmonton, and apparently they were all overloaded, maybe this is some flu thing that is going around? We decide that it would be best to get her back to Calgary to the emergency department there. She probably just needs some IV fluids and some rest.
So, by 10:00 am, we are piled back in our Impala. This time Moms laying across the back seat, and she has an empty icecream bucket on the floorboards in case she gets sick. Dad, Tracey and I are lined up in the front, and I have my walkman out. As we hit the highway, Mom starts moaning and making all sorts of pathetic sounds. Yeah, I know shes sick, but come on, is that really necessary? Tracey and I exchange knowing glances again, and I put my headphones on to drown out the sounds of her puking.
Jennifer with your orange hair
Jennifer with your green eyes
Jennifer in your dress of deepest purple
Jennifer - Where are you tonight?
Jennifer - Where are you tonight?
(Underneath the water / Underneath the water)
We finally get back into Calgary, I've listened to that eurythics tape back to front about 3 times now, and we drive straight to the emerge at the hospital. Shes really really out of it by then, and is no longer making any sense. They admit her right away and Tracey and I wait in the waiting room for a couple of hours while Dads up there with her in some room.
Finally Dad comes back down and tells us that shes going to be staying there overnight, and that he is going to drive us back home.
Tracey immediately goes to her friends place for dinner, Dad goes back to the hospital, and at 6:00pm Christmas day, I am alone at home, eating a bowl of Golden Grahams cereal for my xmas dinner. I was moping, disappointed and angry, but I was glad she was getting better.
Dad finally came home around 10:00 that night, and said they were running tests on her but shes going to be fine in a couple of days.
The next morning, Boxing day, we all pile back into the Impala to drive down to the hospital to see mom. When we get there, we are told that shes been moved into ICU. Something about how her leucocytes are extremely high, and they are trying to spin it out of her blood in some machine before putting it back into her or something. Shes fallen into a coma.
The black eyes were a result of her blood being so thick with white blood cells, that it was no longer flowing smoothly through the capillaries, and the blood vessels in her face broke because of it. The doctor told us to call the family and get them down here as quickly as possible.
Now I was a little afraid. Maybe dad knew more than he was telling us, but so far I hadnt really been too concerned.
Dad makes the call, and the whole crew from Sherwood park are on the highway. The doctor comes into the waiting room outside of ICU and says its ok for us to go see her if we want.
Thats not my mom.
The swollen face, the breathing machine, the tubes, the heaving chest, the limp hands. Thats not mom.
Mom I say.
Nothing.
Tracey freaks out in hysterics, (she was 18 at the time) and the nurse takes us to a private little room that has 2 couches and a box of Kleenex on the table. The crying room, I guess. I wasnt crying though. I was just staring at things.
A few hours later, the rest of the family shows up, and we all go out into the main waiting room again. I am sitting on the couch watching all the adults over by the nurses station, and the main doctor is saying something to my Grandpa, Moms dad. All of a sudden Grandpa starts to shake like its a seizure and he starts to fall and people grab him and I have never seen him do anything like that ever. He was the strong cowboy, that man, and hes collapsing.
Its his heart! My grandma says, and they give him some pill to dissolve under his tounge. Now hes laying on the couch and Im staring at things again.
Turns out her flu was the last stages of advanced leukemia.
They had to move her from the room she was in to a more specialized room later that afternoon, and I will never forget a few seconds that transpired there.
Ysee, our family never said I love you. Ever. It was just too embarrassing or something, I dont know what it was about, but I grew up that way so I never said it either. But when the orderlies came out of that room with Mom on that bed, I stood beside it while they waited for the elevator and I was looking at this woman that wasnt my mom, and I finally broke the rules and said Mom, I love you and she opened her eyes and looked at me.
Just for a second. She didnt say anything, she just looked at me for a second and then her eyes closed again. There was no change in her facial expression or anything, but Ill never forget that.
They wheeled her onto the elevator, and up to that special room, and around 5:00, dad drove me and Tracey home again.
If this was that year, Mom would die today. The 27th.
What a powerful day for me to quit smoking.
This particular year, it was my Aunt and Uncle that were hosting the festivities 3 hours north of Calgary in Sherwood park. The plan was, that we would basically get packed up and leave Cowtown by noon on Saturday, which was Christmas eve, and that would get us up there no later than 4:00 that afternoon.
Thing is, Mom had been really sick with the flu all week, and she had spent the last 3 days pretty much alternating between laying in bed and throwing up. It was really starting to look like we were not going to be able to make it to our family Christmas that year and that was going to suck A LOT because in the previous 15 years, we never ever didnt spend Christmas together as a family.
Well see how she feels on Saturday dad said.
Dont tell me we cant go I was thinking.
Saturday morning, My sister and I are up and in the kitchen. I am more than likely eating a bowl of capn Crunch, and she more than likely was layering peanut butter on toast. Were excited for the trip. I hear some shuffling sounds from down the hall, and Mom has made it out of bed and is coming towards the kitchen. She has her housecoat on, her fuzzy slippers, and she is taking really small little shuffle steps. She finally makes it into the kitchen, and shes kinda hunched over a bit like she cant stand straight up and shes making little whimpery whining noises as she walks.
My sister and I exchange knowing glances and I roll my eyes.
Geez Mom, come on. She always has to make it look so much worse than it is, like shes hammin it up for sympathy. Whatever.
Shed been to the doctor earlier in the week because she was really stuffed up and had a brutal sinus headache. Her glands were all swollen behind her ears and she was really nauseous. He just gave her some antibiotics and painkillers, and told her she had a bad case of sinusitis.
I was beginning to think that she just didnt want to go or something, theres no way she could still be this sick.
Then she tells us to start packing up our stuff. Were going to Sherwood Park.
Dad heard this from the living room and came into the kitchen, he wasnt so sure that was a good idea, considering how sick she was, but she would have none of it, and what Mom says goes. That went for all three of us. There was only one boss in that house.
So as bored as I was with her acting job, I was still excited to be going. My sister and I rushed around and got everything together for the trip, and mom went and got dressed.
Two hours later, we were northbound out of Calgary in our Impala, Tracey and I in the back seat, Dad driving, and mom with her head on a pillow on the window in the passenger seat. Not much was said for that trip.
Anyways, we finally got to Sherwood Park, and Mom went straight back to bed once we got there. What the ? Geez. Whatever.
She stayed in bed all day and all evening, so that night the whole crew went in to hang out with her a bit. Eventually we went to bed.
Christmas Morning, I get up all excited and rise to find that Mom is still in bed which is really strange because she was always up before everybody else on that day to get the breakfast preparations ready. I ran down to the hearth and got my stocking, and thought it would be nice to go up and open it with her.
When I walked into the bedroom there, I could tell something wasnt good. My aunt is a nurse and she seemed really concerned about something and she was talking in whispers to my dad. Then I saw Mom. I dont think I have ever felt such shock. It looked like somebody had beaten the crap out of her overnight. Her face was all bruised, and her two black eyes were almost swollen shut. She was saying stuff but it wasnt making any sense. More mumbles than words, and I didnt care about my stocking after that. My aunt wanted to get her to the hospital in Edmonton, but Mom was coherent enough to put the boots to that idea. We were going to open our presents before anybody went anywhere dammit. So we did. It wasnt very joyful though. More of a quick, perfunctory ritual with the only goal being to finish as fast as possible. Just the sounds of wrapping paper being torn by everybody at once.
I got the walkman I had asked for, and my sister got me the new Eurythmics album that came out that year. Sweet Dreams (are made of this). I guess my Aunt had been calling around to the various emergency departments in Edmonton, and apparently they were all overloaded, maybe this is some flu thing that is going around? We decide that it would be best to get her back to Calgary to the emergency department there. She probably just needs some IV fluids and some rest.
So, by 10:00 am, we are piled back in our Impala. This time Moms laying across the back seat, and she has an empty icecream bucket on the floorboards in case she gets sick. Dad, Tracey and I are lined up in the front, and I have my walkman out. As we hit the highway, Mom starts moaning and making all sorts of pathetic sounds. Yeah, I know shes sick, but come on, is that really necessary? Tracey and I exchange knowing glances again, and I put my headphones on to drown out the sounds of her puking.
Jennifer with your orange hair
Jennifer with your green eyes
Jennifer in your dress of deepest purple
Jennifer - Where are you tonight?
Jennifer - Where are you tonight?
(Underneath the water / Underneath the water)
We finally get back into Calgary, I've listened to that eurythics tape back to front about 3 times now, and we drive straight to the emerge at the hospital. Shes really really out of it by then, and is no longer making any sense. They admit her right away and Tracey and I wait in the waiting room for a couple of hours while Dads up there with her in some room.
Finally Dad comes back down and tells us that shes going to be staying there overnight, and that he is going to drive us back home.
Tracey immediately goes to her friends place for dinner, Dad goes back to the hospital, and at 6:00pm Christmas day, I am alone at home, eating a bowl of Golden Grahams cereal for my xmas dinner. I was moping, disappointed and angry, but I was glad she was getting better.
Dad finally came home around 10:00 that night, and said they were running tests on her but shes going to be fine in a couple of days.
The next morning, Boxing day, we all pile back into the Impala to drive down to the hospital to see mom. When we get there, we are told that shes been moved into ICU. Something about how her leucocytes are extremely high, and they are trying to spin it out of her blood in some machine before putting it back into her or something. Shes fallen into a coma.
The black eyes were a result of her blood being so thick with white blood cells, that it was no longer flowing smoothly through the capillaries, and the blood vessels in her face broke because of it. The doctor told us to call the family and get them down here as quickly as possible.
Now I was a little afraid. Maybe dad knew more than he was telling us, but so far I hadnt really been too concerned.
Dad makes the call, and the whole crew from Sherwood park are on the highway. The doctor comes into the waiting room outside of ICU and says its ok for us to go see her if we want.
Thats not my mom.
The swollen face, the breathing machine, the tubes, the heaving chest, the limp hands. Thats not mom.
Mom I say.
Nothing.
Tracey freaks out in hysterics, (she was 18 at the time) and the nurse takes us to a private little room that has 2 couches and a box of Kleenex on the table. The crying room, I guess. I wasnt crying though. I was just staring at things.
A few hours later, the rest of the family shows up, and we all go out into the main waiting room again. I am sitting on the couch watching all the adults over by the nurses station, and the main doctor is saying something to my Grandpa, Moms dad. All of a sudden Grandpa starts to shake like its a seizure and he starts to fall and people grab him and I have never seen him do anything like that ever. He was the strong cowboy, that man, and hes collapsing.
Its his heart! My grandma says, and they give him some pill to dissolve under his tounge. Now hes laying on the couch and Im staring at things again.
Turns out her flu was the last stages of advanced leukemia.
They had to move her from the room she was in to a more specialized room later that afternoon, and I will never forget a few seconds that transpired there.
Ysee, our family never said I love you. Ever. It was just too embarrassing or something, I dont know what it was about, but I grew up that way so I never said it either. But when the orderlies came out of that room with Mom on that bed, I stood beside it while they waited for the elevator and I was looking at this woman that wasnt my mom, and I finally broke the rules and said Mom, I love you and she opened her eyes and looked at me.
Just for a second. She didnt say anything, she just looked at me for a second and then her eyes closed again. There was no change in her facial expression or anything, but Ill never forget that.
They wheeled her onto the elevator, and up to that special room, and around 5:00, dad drove me and Tracey home again.
If this was that year, Mom would die today. The 27th.
What a powerful day for me to quit smoking.
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