I have been thinking in the back of my head for quite some time about how I have been neglecting this blog. Once Lauren posted the now infamous #LolasBucketList, my attention turned to her new blog, Love Like Lola and the completion of the aforementioned list. When things took a turn for the worst, I had a hard enough time keeping the Team Lola Facebook page updated, much less two different blogs. Alas, I digress. It is what it is...
Dates. They play an ever changing role in our lives. Births. Graduations. Weddings. Anniversaries. Milestones. Since the death of Lauren's best friend Megan in June 2009, I had always told Lauren don't dwell on the day that she died but rejoice on her birthday. We set off balloons to Megan every year since on her birthday in November. But as much as I would say that, I know that day would forever be etched in her memory. June 10th was the day we were told to go home and love one another, because there was nothing more that could be done to help Lauren and her fight against the worst swear word in the English language - cancer.
I tried to stay as optimistic and upbeat as I could from that day forward. If she wanted to talk about "stuff" then we would, but I would never bring it up on my own. I worry myself now about the things that must have crossed her mind. How she must have been thinking about her own mortality. It literally breaks my heart when I think about it. I remember when hospice delivered the oxygen tanks and how long the concentrator stayed unused in a corner. My optimism in believing that it would be weeks if not months before she would even need it. Sigh. If I would have known that I only had two more months with her, how I would have done things so differently.
When her NP told us about George Mark, I remembered a dear friend in my same situation saying it wasn't for her and her family. I hesitated. I spoke briefly to Lauren about it. We had many discussions about me stepping back and taking back my role as Mom and letting hospice take care of her. Of course, I would still need to administer medications round the clock but by this point, she was sleeping with me in my king size bed. It was easy. The night before we decided to go to GM, Lauren was restless and in pain for most of the night. She was still having problems with nausea as well. At one point, she woke up and told me "I think its time. Tonight will be the night mom." I wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not and I told her "That's fine bebe. If it is tonight, then you should not be scared." I laid awake watching her every breath, looking for movement in her chest. Nope, tonight would NOT be the night.
I have briefly mentioned on a few occasions about a psychic reading that Lauren had when we were in LA. Without going into it too much for privacy reasons, I will say that after speaking to the psychic, Lauren had a calm about her and life just made more sense to her. But she was solemn. Reasons became more clear. Unanswered questions were answered. She was holding on for so long because of us, her family, her loved ones. She always put others first before herself. She waited until she thought we were ready and then she did what we told her to do, she let go. I know it was hard for her. She loves us so much and having to watch us go through the pain of losing her was weighing on her every thought.
When I got the news one day after arriving at GM that radiation was no longer an option, my heart sank. She would not be leaving GM like we had planned and moving into our new house in Sacramento. It was Friday and my mom and Tyler were in Reno packing and Jim in Sac working. I called Jim and we decided to drop everything and they would come to us and they would bring Lola, Lauren's beloved child pup. I took Lauren for a walk in her wheelchair to break the painful news to her. God how many times have I had to have these conversations, but this one, this is it. We cried. She played the organ and the piano and we went back to the room. She loved George Mark from the moment we arrived and even asked me on that first day "Can I die here?" (because of television, she had this wild idea that she didn't want to die at home and burden us with that memory) Oh yeah, and she got to throw a slushy on one of her nurses from Children's. It was on her bucketlist =) There is a video on the Love Like Lola site.
They arrived late and mom and Tyler settled into the apartment and Jim and I stayed in the room with Lauren. I had them move in a full size hospital bed that I could sleep in with her. She was on high levels of oxygen by this time and in constant pain, but she was lucid and very aware and talkative. We made a plan to invite a few close friends to visit Saturday. Jim and Tyler went out for surprise tattoos in Lauren's honor while she visited with her friends. They made painted hand-print pictures, laughed hard and had a great time. None of us knew that this would be the last time they would see each other. Plans were made for them to come back the next day, but she began to deteriorate quickly and asked me to not let anymore visitors in, as she was very adamant that she didn't want anyone to see her like that. Always my strong girl.
The last twenty four hours of Lauren's life were the worst, for me, that I have ever had to endure. There are no words to describe the excruciating pain you feel having to watch your child suffer. While we had already started her on the heavy hitter sedation drug and had her on the maximum oxygen, each time her poor little cancer infected body took a breath, her chest would rise and then fall back, and I could tell it was difficult. The end stages of life are not beautiful like in the movies. The last ten hours of her life I begged her to let go. I promised her that it would not be scary. I sang to her and held her hand so tightly. Jim laid on the bed to her right and me in a chair on the left side of her. We stroked her hair and kissed her cheeks and told her that we were ready for her to go. We would be sad, but it was time. Please let go baby. You don't need to suffer anymore.
Shortly before 8am on Thursday, August 8th, Jim noticed that the swelling was back on her right side. The right side. It's always been the problematic side, but also the same side as her port (which is why we had to battle her the day before when her port stopped working - theorizing that it was tumor/end stage related - and had to start a peripheral IV of which I had to hold her down to get it done). The swelling was visually alarming, but in the back of my mind it was just another symptom to throw in that pile of things that I was just unable to control. I wanted to vomit. I stood up and I shouted "Why are you doing this to us God? Why are you letting her suffer like this and making us watch it? I just don't understand!" and at that very moment, Lauren took her last breath. Sweet dreams bebe. Rest well.
George Mark was supposed to be a transition place for Lauren until we got moved. Two days after we lost Lauren, my family moved from Reno to Sac. The house is smaller but I like small. Its cozy. Thankfully between my mother and Danielle, Tyler's girlfriend, Lauren's room was mostly packed. Her bed was still up and made. I laid down in it and held her blanket close, inhaling her scent. Ugh. That vomit feeling again. I still have all of her stuff in boxes on one side of the garage. It takes up one side of the garage! I tried a couple of weeks ago to look through it. I've bought purple plastic bins to preserve certain things. I got as far as opening the lid of one box and couldn't bear to go any farther. In time right?
I tried for hours on the day she passed to figure out what all the eights meant. I mean, August 8 at 8am. Then one of Lauren's friends mentioned the infinity sign and it all made sense. Lauren loved the infinity sign and even had a tattoo of it on her wrist that said "stay strong". Her first of three. Tyler and I have both gone out and got our own renditions of the infinity sign. It will always have a very special meaning for us. She was telling us that she would be with us forever.
We had her Celebration of Life on September 8th. It was amazing and beautiful and everything that was Lauren. We had everyone bring her favorite foods and it was a crazy potluck we affectionately called #EatLikeLola potluck. Some of her dear friends spoke about her and we had two amazing singing performances, one of which was Lauren's favorite song "Warrior" by Demi Lovato. I displayed all of her art from her room along with 70+ pics of her wearing sunglasses. There is a video of it on the Love Like Lola website as well. Thank you so much to everyone who came to say their final goodbyes and to remember Lauren. It was standing room only!
The first couple of weeks after we moved were filled with unpacking, organizing, and decorating. As things started to calm down, I still had the Celebration to plan. I am hoping to find a part time job soon to fill some time. I have cared for Lauren for three and a half years, round the clock. That constant worry feeling is no longer there, for obvious reasons. I often find myself irritable and restless. I do craft projects when those moments hit. There's always candy crush too. =) But honestly, when the bad days come, they hit hard and even the thought of having to work on a day like that is not appealing to me in the slightest.
Its been eleven weeks today. It still feels like yesterday. I made plans to join a support group for parents but haven't gone yet. They only meet once a month. I've spoken twice to palliative nurses at the hospital over the phone. It was nice to let some things out. I have so many memories of Lauren, especially over the June and early July. Fresh GOOD memories. But the ones that are etched in my memories right now are from the last three days of her life. They are not full of joy and bliss. They are straight up out of a horror story and they play over and over in my mind. The picture in this post is the very last picture that I took of her. Six days later she was gone.
My mother went home today. She has stayed with us a total of 17 months in the last three and a half years. I am so thankful that she has the ability to do this. I don't know what I would have done without her. I love you mom and I will miss you. But today, the band-aid was ripped off and I feel as though I am starting the process all over again. This time though, there will be no more major changes. This time I can start to grieve properly and start to settle in my new life, without my daughter.
If you are still with me, thank you for taking the time to read this. It has been a few months in the making and there is so much more I could probably include but I have already spent two days composing this one. It is time to hit the post button and share it on social media. The first thing I am going to do tomorrow is make a list. I need to keep myself busy. I need a list of things that need to be done (more boxes to unpack - procrastinating), a list of classes I want to take and a list for getting started on the creation of The Love Like Lola Foundation. I will also be updating #LolasBucketList with everything that has been accomplished by our wonderful friends around the world as well as anything in the future, as I plan to take care of most of the travel items to spread her ashes.
Really, all I can do right now is live moment to moment. Rinse, lather, repeat.
My beautiful baby girl ... I can no longer see you with my eyes or touch you with my hands, but I will feel you in my heart forever.
#LoveLikeLola
