My mom was diagnosed with congestive heart failure in July of 2013. The doctors made it sound like given some medications and rest, she would be able to heal and get back to her active self. Over the next several months, she ended up in the hospital almost every other week. She was not able to go grocery shopping for longer than 10 minutes and was not getting any better. I had already signed a lease to move to another state in September and she assured me that she was going to be okay. I did not know what to do but I ended up listening to her and moving.
She was in the hospital again and almost died the week that we moved there. I wanted to be with her so badly but I was trying to get a job so that she could move with me and my roommate. I surprised her in October 2014 and within that weekend she was in the hospital again. That was the final straw, I made some phone calls and, broke the lease with the 1 bedroom apartment and then signed a new lease for a different apartment. In the meantime, she stayed in the hospital and I cleaned and emptied her home of 13 years. Once moved in with me, she was back in the hospital within three days and the cardiologist said her only chance of surviving was a LVAD. She made it out of surgery but machines were supporting her whole heart. I stayed with her every day, and all day… I knew in my heart that she was not going to make it, despite what the doctors were telling me about her progress. She ended up being placed in a coma the last two and a half weeks of her life. I still sat next to her and held her hand the whole time. She died when the bleeding could no longer be controlled and her lungs failed even with the machines doing the work for her.
She died on December 21 2014, and I was holding her hand. What still hurts is that I was not able to hug her for that last month because she was not allowed to stand up even when she was awake. I was not able to talk to her one last time like I was expecting because she was in a coma. I am 25 and still try to wrap my head around the fact that I am motherless. I still “forget” that she is gone sometimes and go to call her or think that maybe that phone call is her. I wish that I knew someone else that lost so many so quickly, no one seems to know what to say or understand.