Hospitals Are For Losers

My mom was in the hospital for 3 months.

April, 2018- July, 2018

By April my mom was using a walker full time. She could not go up or down the stairs, so she was stuck on the upper floor of our home. She could not get in or out of her own bed by herself. We had to physically lift her into and out of bed. She used a bed rail to help her turn her own body in the night to reposition herself. She had to wear adult diapers because she could no longer make it to the washroom in time to pee (or more because she was losing bladder control). We couldn’t bathe her as our shower is down 2 flights of stairs and we couldn’t get her in or out of the bathtub either.

By April my mom told us that she wasn’t going to make it to the end of the year. She told us she was dying and she could feel it. In hindsight now, she was right. But at that time we told her once we got it all figured out she would be able to get better. We just had to wait for the doctors.

Since the neurologists (nee: 2 neurologists) could not figure out what in the HELL was wrong with my mom, she asked them to admit her to the hospital until they could figure it out. We could no longer, safely, care for her at home and they hoped that testing and treatments could be provided at a faster rate.

So they admitted her in April. We spent a month and a half mostly sitting on our hands. Some tests were done. Some treatments began while we waited for results to things that she didn’t end up having.

I pushed again for a referral to the neurologist who specializes in ALS, 2.5 hours away from us. The neurologists still said that there was no way she could have ALS. They fought me tooth and nail to give me that referral but in the end I won. We were sent to London at the end of May.

I will never forget that day in all my life.

After fighting with doctors for 6 months we got the answers we didn’t want, but did need. Our mom had ALS. A very rapidly progressing form.

When my mom asked how long the Dr thought she had to live, she said she didn’t know but it would definitely be on the lower end of the “average”.

On average a person with ALS dies between 3-5 years after diagnosis. My mom made it to 7 months.

The only thing my mom said before she started sobbing was “I won’t even get to see Brook graduate”. Those words broke me.

My daughter was 11 and my mom was her other parent. My mom worked sooo hard to help my daughter succeed. She came to every school meeting, every school function, every after school activity. She was the only person in the room when my daughter was born. She helped me care for her every day. She was there for it all. It broke me that, she was more worried about Brook, about us, her family, than anything else.

And it’s not fucking fair.

Christmas Just Wasn’t the Same pt 2

It was quiet in our house Christmas morning. We opened presents and loved on each other more than ever. For New Years we went to my aunt and uncles for a few nights. My mom could barely make it up their stairs to bed at night. We had to help her walk from room to room by letting her hold our arm for support.

Christmas 2018 came and went. And with it, any good feelings we had of mom possibly getting better without intervention.

We saw doctor after doctor. Specialist upon specialist. The neurologists are where we stopped. 3 neurologists in fact.

First were tests. So many tests.

And then possible diagnosis after possible diagnosis. Everyone was sure it was MS. “Definitely MS” the doctors said, but the tests confirmed it was NOT MS. Then it was clearly brain cancer. Then “It has to be cancer hiding somewhere in your body” all of the doctors were sure. But all of the tests confirmed it was NOT cancer of any kind. Then it was an autoimmune disease, then definitely Lyme disease, then definitely an infection in your brain, definitely, definitely, definitely.

I knew what is was. I am not a doctor. Or anyone in the medical field. But I KNEW.

I asked both neurologists “could this possibly be ALS?”. The answer was always no. “No way, ALS is not this rapid. This is not what ALS looks like. This is not ALS”.

Then came the 3 month long hospital stay.

ADHD Life-A bad day

This is an older post that I wrote on a bad day. At the time I had decided not to post it because…*what would people think?!* But if you have read my blog, then you know that I try to be honest…sometimes to a fault.

I am going to post this today because well, I cannot be the only mother who has ever felt this way at one time or another.  This is not a constant feeling, it was just a feeling in the moment. This does not make me a bad mom, it makes me a REAL mom. A real PERSON.

A Bad Day

As I sit at the dinner table all by myself, tears falling into my untouched plate of food, I wonder if anyone else has ever had a moment where they hate their child?

It sounds so awful. I cried just thinking it. But I have had moments, like right now, where I have hated my daughter.

Maybe it is not hate towards her, maybe it is hate towards the life that we live or the way that we have to behave or the uncontrollable screaming and name calling that is coming from the other room.

It only lasts a few minutes. I should be able to handle it. But when your child is calling you an awful mother, screaming it at you with such venom, saying they don’t want to live because you are so awful, over and over, it is hard to keep your composure.

When we have a good day, it is SO GOOD. When we have a bad day, it is SO BAD. Sometimes it only affects the time that the ‘BAD’ takes place but a lot of time it puts tension on the entire day and it is so hard to shake it off.

Patience mommies…patience. It will get better.

-3rd Generation Mommy

I AM IN

I AM IN.

Those are the three words that have started the ball rolling in the game that will save my life.

Confused? I bet you are. But for me this is the first time I am seeing with clarity.

I am fat. Actually I believe the technical term is ‘Obese’ or even ‘Morbidly Obese’. I am 5′ 7″ and weigh 230 lbs. I have approximately 70 pounds to loose to be at the top of what a doctor considers a ‘healthy weight’ for me.

I am a confidant beautiful woman, do not get me wrong. I am happy with my life. I have an amazing family, great group of friends, and a crazy little girl who has stolen my heart. But I want more. I feel like I deserve more in this life than I am letting myself experience. That I am ABLE to experience because of how heavy I am.

I AM IN.

I AM IN is what I had to say to get in on a 30 day beach body challenge that my coach was offering, for free, to a select few.  The challenge starts Monday and I am terrified.

I am terrified but I am ready! I am ready to take back control of my life. I am ready to work my ass off (or my stomach to be more exact) and get healthy. I know that there is a long road of blood, sweat, and tears ahead of me. I know that it is going to be unbearably difficult and at times I am going to want to give up. But I am done with this life. I am done with saying no to playing with my daughter because I am to tired. Done with getting winded running up a few flights of stairs. Done making excuses.

This is me and….

I AM IN!