My mother Maria Elena Jimenez Guzman is back home with Father God

[MexicanMalena]

Tomorrow at exactly 9.43 am local central time, will mark one week since my mother left to go back home to God Almighty.  She was 73 springs old, merciful, joyful, pious, and devout. Her agony started in December 2021, however, we, her daughters are too fucking stubborn to just let her go, so we clung to her and pulled her through a crisis after crisis.  Until one day she yelled at us asking us to let her die, to let her go home. 

Still, afterward, she told us that she did not want to die.  So we clung to her a little more. She decided that she did not want to take any more cancer medication, no more chemo, no more radio.  She had breast cancer, and then was diagnosed with Nash (non-alcoholic cirrhosis).  10 years later, damn cancer returned with mets in the lung, T10, and hip.  She was a trooper and took the chemo and the radio.  It took more than a toll on her, then some idiot decided to eat some bat soup´; she was sequestered at home because we did not dare to risk our most precious being to covid.  She got depressed.  

We were SO focused on the BC, the anemia, the reaction to the covid vaccine, with the idea that the hepatologist said that her liver was recuperated and that we never thought about the cirrhosis.  Two months ago we were desperate and finally took her for a scan.  The "recovered" liver never recovered, the cirrhosis was very much alive and well.  It was full-blown cancerous, with mets in lungs, L2 and mediastino (sorry, don't know the English word for it).  There was nothing we could do, she already had ascites. 

Someone told us that a Denver shunt would help her survive.  BD never told us that they don't do it anymore.  US providers told us they had it.  We spent one month and a bucket of cash trying to get it home, then we learned that they were trying to sell us a Denver shunt that is not suitable for humans.  We could only make her comfortable. 

We did try one last resort.  it did not work.  We were forced to put mom on heavy pain medication.  Cleaning her up was extremely painful for her, so much so, that despite the painkillers she would come out of the pain-free world and scream at me to let her go, as I moved her as little as possible, just to clean her up.  

It came to a point where when she hear my voice, felt my touch or smelled my scent she cringed and cried.  she sobbed once or twice.  The funeral home came and took her remains in a blanket.  she lost 3/4 of her weight due to the ascites and cancer itself. I was pissed at the way they moved my mother's body.  But I was too numb to say anything. 

They prepped her body and were kind enough to remove the liquid from her stomach cavity.  If you have seen any documentary on world war 2, and you have seen the bodies of the prisoners in Auschwitz, you know how my mother looked. she was just a small, precious sack of bones.  I never knew if cancer had reached her brain, but I suspect it did as my mother had personality chances that were sometimes very radical. she forgot things and even words that she used every day.

This week I've seen old people walking around on the street and I am filled with anger, anguish, and jealousy.  Why are these people alive?¡???  Why isn't my mother with me?!?!?! I know she's in Heaven.  She's told me so.  on the day of her cremation, my stanged family (my father's brothers) took my sister and me to eat something.  We had asked mom to let us know loud and clear that she had arrived at heaven, that she was with our granma (her mom) so that we could be at peace.  

This is something that weighed heavily on our minds and hearts. During lunch, a lone troubadour came about and sang two characteristic and heavily mom-related songs.  My mother was at some point a preschool teacher, she loved children and she would teach them this little nursery song.  that is the first song the troubadour sang.  The second one related to the pet nickname I would call her constantly.  I would call her "bonita" (pretty) and she would complain that she felt I was talking to a horse. I replied to her that it was "bonita" like the song (pretty, like the toys I used to have in the day of my childhood" goes the song) and that is the second song sung. 

I am a bit more at peace now.  I still cry and I expect I will do so for the longest time. My mother died of cancer.  My father's family (9 siblings) have had diabetes or cancer or both) so I know I am screwed.  I am considering smoking as it can't hurt. LOL  

I want to thank everyone in this forum.  I came here not often as I was busy helping mom.  Now,  I plan to visit a bit more often and help others.

[reader]

Dear Malena,

I'm deeply sorry for your loss. It's incredible hard to lose a beloved parent.  Please know we are here with you. x 

[MexicanMalena]

Thank you.  I'm slowly recovering my life.  I didn't marry nor do i have human children, i have furkids... It was my choice and I'm happy with it.  It is breathtaking how much of my life was my mother, caring for her during these 14 years...

 

I miss the mom i had even to those early years of cancer, i miss her terribly.  Childhood fears are beginning to appear and I'm battling between logic and the whole superstitious idea of religion, faith and old wives...  

 

Not that religion or faith are false, but as i practice the Catholic rights, fear appears.  Childhood trauma too and of course, the "wonderful" ifs... My sister and i joke about them, but they are there... If we had done this.  Maybe we made the wrong choice. Maybe we caused her death....

If course not, logic states that a patient with nash will develop cancer on its own. She had mets in t10 and l2.  Mets in her lungs as well...  And i believe some sort of brain problem...  So there is nothing you can do regarding those three...

 

Not a dang thing and we managed to cheat death a few more weeks than expected...  I should be happy, I'm at peace...  More or less...  I hope that suffices and that these irrational fears vanish soon or maybe i need medication... Idk