Today I decided to write about selflessness, based on an emotional experience I’d had with my mother before she passed away of Pancreatic Cancer. I also wanted to keep my word and begin giving you some of my life experiences, so that you can partly understand how Luxe Statements came into existence.
Today’s excerpt is from chapter 6 of a book I am currently writing – I’m still working on the title. Unfortunately, for this blog we’ll be starting off in the middle of the book. As you progress through the reading, you will note aliases such as The Enabler, Sociopath #1, and The Snake. These are adjectives used to describe my siblings (sisters) based on their character, as well as my emotions during that time. It is also to avoid any litigious activities in terms of defamation of character. I ask that you stay to the end of this blog, otherwise the title will not be of value to you.
The Beginning of the End
We’re all aware that at some point in our lives, we’ll have to sit on that front pew eulogizing one of our own. But when the time comes you’re never really ready - especially when it’s your mother.
The year was 2006 when one day, a female friend and I were driving back to work from a funeral we’d attended and I grimly said to her, “I know one day I’ll be in that position”. The universe clearly heard me because about ten minutes after we arrived back at work my eldest sister, The Enabler, called and said that mom was in the hospital. I call this one The Enabler because she knowingly assists the diabolical schemes of Sociopath #1.
I didn’t really think much of it because I thought it was probably some old person’s mishap like a fall or just being paranoid about their blood pressure.
So I made my way from Pomona, a suburb about 45 minutes east of Los Angeles, down to my mom’s house in LA, and when I arrived, she was sitting on the couch as usual. I asked her “What did the doctor say”? She responded, “Cansa” (cancer), with a worried grin in her Belizean dialect. In my mind the response went something like “What the hell did she just say”? In all of my years I’d never cursed in front of my mother and I wasn’t going to start today. We were brought up the old fashion way.
So I worked up the courage to ask her “What does that mean”? She said “6 months”! Huh?! It was Pancreatic Cancer. It is one of the most formidable Cancers because it attacks the Pancreas, the Liver, and the Spleen. Those are the body’s purifiers - your excretion system. The diagnosis is generally 6 months though many have lived longer. One of the theories is that it originates from the preservatives (nitrates & nitrites) in processed meats that we gorge ourselves on.
Now they say once Pancreatic Cancer has been detected it’s usually too late to address it in terms of saving a life - the mortality rate is extremely high. So what are we supposed to do with that?! Better yet, what is my mom supposed to do with that?! Adding insult to injury, I found out one of my mother’s sisters died of the exact same thing at the exact same age of 62.
At that point it was pure disbelief for her, myself, and everyone else in our family. Unbeknownst to me at that time, is that you go through at least 5 stages of grief when dealing with death: denial, anger, bargaining, depression & acceptance.
I’d never heard of this, probably because I hadn’t experienced death this close yet. I’m certain I was rotating between denial, anger, and depression up until my acceptance of both of their deaths (my father died in 2009) in the beginning of 2013. Seven years of famine. I don’t believe anyone knew just how bad I was struggling with this because I tried my best not to show it. If you ever catch me crying, it’s because I have been cut to my core - my soul!
So there it was that while everyone was trying to adjust to this life changing news, my kinfolk The Enabler, Sociopath #1, and The Snake (also a staunch supporter of Sociopath #1) worked shifts to look after my mom and dad. I was happy they did so. For my part, I would come down on weekends since I lived so far away, and watch over them at night. Be forewarned that anytime a sociopath is willing to help, it is only to create turmoil and clandestinely destroy you later. I don’t know if she’s been diagnosed as a sociopath, but based on my research, she fits every single trait listed. This is why she is given this adjective.
In all fairness though, I have to honestly say the aforementioned siblings were on top of it in terms of doctor’s appointments, medicine, injections, cooking, etc. I mean you name it, they were on it. I would sleep on the couch and wake up every hour on the hour, and I mean every hour on the hour, and walk the long hallway way to my parents’ room and watch their noses and stomachs to make sure they were breathing. Every night I was there I did so. Honestly, I trembled with fear every walk down that hallway to their room that I would find them not breathing on my watch.
I remember one night my parents were arguing about taking up residence at the home of Sociopath #1 instead of their own. I’m guessing the master manipulator had convinced my mom that being there in her care would probably be best for everyone. This was more of a calculated move so she could control the situation in order to create the chaos she desired. She wanted that power – it is what they crave most. I don’t believe my dad wanted to be there because he knew that would spell nothing but trouble.
Anyway, so during the argument my mom blurted out on the verge of tears, “I am dying - stop fighting with me”. That was very sobering to me, but ultimately, I think the weight of her statement fell on deaf ears with my dad. I’m not sure if he was still in denial or if he was just being the man’s man that he was, and wasn’t going to show any emotion.
There were times where I would show up to my parent’s house in the wee hours of the morning, and my mom would be sitting up in the dark just staring into space. The look on her face was clear; is this really happening to me? If I had to guess, I believe she was pleading to The Universal Creator that she’d served him well, so why would he make her final days full of fear, pain, and betrayal before her crossover?
The fear and pain is self-explanatory, but the betrayal part even took me by surprise. All of the women she selflessly devoted her time to, the people whose rent she paid with money she crow-barred from my dad, were now circling like buzzards on a dying animal in the African Serengeti. I was disgusted in the way these people were acting!
There was one woman in particular who I grew up knowing, that was one of the main vultures waiting for my mother’s demise. From what I understand she’d been circling for years before her death with invitations from my dad. Right now, as I write this chapter, I’m having feelings that I am betraying my dad. Sorry daddy, but I have been compelled by a consistent quiet whisper to write this for the last several years. And I’m sorry about my anger after you passed away – I should have known better than to accept the words of known liars.
Apparently her and my dad were acting like two high school students that were sweet on each other going back to that nation changing year of 2001. I had been gone from my parent’s house for years so I wasn’t aware of any of these shenanigans, and quite frankly, it wasn’t any of my business. It appears as if they were getting cozier during my mom’s decline.
My only issue was if what was being said was true, I just wish he would have waited until she passed on. We found out about these two from a diary my mom was writing, pleading with the Universal Creator to find a way out of her marriage. She conveniently left them to be discovered before her incapacitation. If you’ve ever heard the expression, “It is easy to physically kill a man, but it is even more devastating to kill him while he’s still breathing”, that’s what those letters did to my dad his final three years on this earth. That’s something we’ll discuss another time.
Now, during the early stages of my mom’s sickness I was back and forth between denial and bargaining. So, I was up late one night watching television about 3 or 4 in the morning, and I came across a guy that we’ve all seen at some point during our short term insomnia. His name is Kevin Trudeau, currently in prison, and he totes the Natural Cures books. I do not know him nor am I paid by him or any of his companies. Nor am I stating that his information is a cure for anything.
So I decided to look into the data based on the fact that we have nothing to lose. I found a lot of the information to be very credible and some not so much. I first learned vitamin C, in huge doses (in the thousands of milligrams), has much more of a positive and powerful effect on the body’s immune system than the miniscule amounts we get out of those store tablets. Number two, I learned that coffee is a natural diuretic, and that some cancer patients can actually use it to cleanse their body with the use of an enema before starting an alternative regimen.
Here I am empowered with this new information that could quite possibly save my mother’s life, even though the doctor’s said her cancer was terminal. I am an eternal optimist! So I talked to The Enabler about this and she said she knew of someone who practiced alternative medicine. She managed to get the Alternative Medicine Man to meet us at the hospital where my mom was housed; it was a small room just big enough to fit all nine of us.
So he started giving his dissertation, focused mainly on the power of high concentrates of Vitamin C, its properties, and its effects on cancer. I was feeling pretty encouraged about the information being given and I thought all of us were until I looked over to my right. Of course, Sociopath #1 was doing her best to show up our guest and to let him know she didn’t want him there. She was constantly turning away from him in disgust, loud sighs, and writhing in pain although no one was touching her. I couldn’t believe my eyes!
This is where I wish I would have been aware of another of one of the rarely known characteristics of a sociopath. A true sociopath despises any activity that uplifts a person or group; it is like nails on the chalkboard to them. We’re talking about helping her mother here!
I’m not sure if my mom knew of the meeting we had with the Alternative Medicine Man, but I don’t think it would have mattered now that Sociopath #1 had different intentions other than prolonging my mother’s life. Sadly enough, my mother trusted this one because she has some type of minor medical certificate. But I don’t believe that small certificate qualifies her as a medical authority.
In any case, ultimately my mother said the Alternative Medicine Man was a “Quack”, so she shot down the Vitamin C method. After thinking about it, I believe my mom did so most certainly after consulting with the wicked one, aka Sociopath #1. Sometimes I wonder about my mother’s complicity in her schemes.
The next thing my mom said to me was very sobering, but later, very funny. I was speaking alone and very candid with my mom about the coffee enema method we discussed earlier. She sternly said to me, “Why don’t you put an enema in your butt”! The severity of the situation wouldn’t allow me to laugh at that moment, but to this day I still laugh to myself when I think of that conversation. It amused me because my mother doesn’t speak with that kind of aggression. I suppose a death sentence keeps you pretty honest.
The following was the sobering part of the conversation. My mother said, “I’ve lived a good life. I don’t want to do chemotherapy or any of that stuff because I’m too tired”.
I didn’t know at the time that part of her reasons for saying that was the embarrassment she was feeling from the interactions between my dad and his squeeze. I think she was crushed that in her time of need he would be carrying on in this way. I never spoke another word on finding a way to beat cancer; later that night I cried at her bed side while she slept.
The following paragraphs are the whole reason for today’s blog.
During these trying times my mom had a habit of giving me $100 each visit because she knew I was struggling to find my way in life. Maybe some of that was guilt for recognizing the choke hold my upbringing put on my decision making abilities early in life, or maybe they were just being my parents. I don’t know because we never had the chance to talk about it.
But during my mom’s last moments before she would slip into a coma, the final stage of Pancreatic Cancer, I was in the room alone with her and she didn’t really talk much; I was just sitting there quietly with her at Sociopath #1’s house. You guessed it, she’d reached her goal of gaining control of the situation with the help of The Enabler and The Snake.
In any case, while I was in the room with my mom, she motioned with her hand and head to go get her purse. She took out $100 and gave it to me. I don’t remember if I even thanked or kissed her. I don’t remember because I was so taken back by the fact this woman knows she is going into a coma she will never wake from, and until the end was thinking of someone else – ME. You have to respect that - I know I do. That is a true reflection of the Universal Creator. That was the last memory I had of her, and the last time I saw my mother alive.
Three days later, on Tuesday morning September 26, 2006, my mother past away at the age of 62!
This is one of the reasons I write a blog on healing, wholeness, giving, and uplifting those worthy enough around you because it carries forward. It is why I have others in mind when I expose my experiences with this platform. It’s because someone else had me in mind, and I promised her I would do my best to touch the world in a positive way! Do yourself and the world a favor today and impact someone with a positive deed!
Until next time Feel Good. Look Good. Be Good.
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