I had no idea what to do next. My mother was not in her room the first time I called. I called back to the nurse’s station through the hospital switchboard again, back to the cancer ward. Hearing it a second time somehow confirmed it in my brain. I explained who I was and asked what was going on. I was told my mother was quite ill, that she was admitted for anorexia and hypercalcemia, with extreme dehydration. She was assigned to an oncologist with a possible malignancy.
She stopped then, I believe she reached a certain note on the chart. “Oh dear.” It seemed my mother had left note that my sister and I were not to be given any details about my mother’s medical state. The nurse was sorry but she really could not say any more. I told her I needed to book a flight across the country. Was I supposed to do fly on the next available flight out or sometime in the coming week? The week following? “You’d better talk to your mom about that. She should be back in her room at any time.” I was furious and shaking, bewildered. What I knew for sure was that this did not sound good at all and that I did need to get back to New England.
I don’t remember the drive back from Oregon. We must have driven, cause Kala was with us. I must have been on the phone most of the time, between talking to Robin, talking to the hospital, talking w/ Rebecca for moral support. I must have reached my mother, who was slow and drugged. Morphine haze and tiredness, she would be alert one moment and then lapse into sleep the next, forgetting the sentence she had spoken just before. Somehow it was decided that I could wait for the first affordable flight, a little over a week away.
What I remember of the week in between is very sparse – just the overall tone remains. I would be at work, my mother would call. She still would not tell me what was going on, would not talk to me about the tests, would not talk to me about her doctors. She desperately wanted us to come but did not want us to know anything about her medical condition, and did not want us staying in her house. It’s not that her trust in me was ruined by the events that followed – I realize now she never trusted me at all.
I don’t know how we managed to fight, but we did. Angrily and loudly. I remember feeling cast out. Like once again we could have a relationship on her terms or on none at all. She could tell me what she wanted me to know and I, once again, had no right to question anything she said. No right to make suggestions (how dare I “accuse her of being incapable” or lazy!) or offer help (did I think so little of her that I’d “assume she could not handle things herself?”)
I remember staying at work late and sitting in one of the empty offices. I stared out the office building glass at the silhouettes of trees and buildings darkening against the sky. It was November and getting dark early. I recall wanting to throw the phone through the window.
I don’t remember now who got there first, but Robin’s the one who got the hotel. I was perfectly content for her to be in the driver’s seat. It’s important to remember that through to the end. I didn’t know how this sibling thing was supposed to work. This was the first time I’d really had to do it. For the first time that really counted, the first time for something real, my older sister was in charge.
So we arrived at that dank hotel, the grey New England trees wrapping around the square concrete box. Grey rental car parked outside. The walkways surrounding the building were icy and slushy alternately, with the temperature. Somewhere in the bowels of the building was a hot tub to soak in and a small gym to work out in. There was internet so we could both work. We were only 5 minutes drive from the hospital, and we would get up tomorrow at 9 and head over. We would wait until she was done with breakfast and some tests.