January 31st

January 31st. 38 years ago, on January 31st, 1987, my mother was diagnosed with brain cancer. Glioblastoma Multiform. It was not a question of IF she would die, but WHEN. It was so invasive throughout her brain, there was nothing they could do for her.

I’ve written about our journey with her illness here and here. Boy, did it suck. Her decline was so rapid, it was like she let out a sigh of relief from getting found out. I felt so fecking helpless. Maybe that’s why I always cajole my family members with a “you’re fine, you’re fine!” Like I can will their pain or illness out of them because I couldn’t do it for her.

So many years later, I see myself standing at the copier at work hearing my name as I’m paged for a phone call. I hear Gail saying, “I’ll always think of this when I pay my taxes”. I see me sitting with my sisters in the hospital cafeteria discussing what she’ll wear for her funeral. Weeks later, trying to force her to eat because the visiting nurse said when she stops, the end will only be a few weeks (it was). I went out that afternoon for the St. Patricks Day parade in New Haven and tied.one.on. We knew it wouldn’t be long.

She died 8 weeks after her diagnosis. Every year between January 31st and April 4th, I remember what it felt like to see her slip away.

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Author: nancyb422

I am a collector of family history - pictures, stories, facts - whatever I can get my hands on. I share that at It's All About Family. I started Thoughts From the Passenger Seat because I have a lot on my mind! It started riding on the back of my husband's motorcycle and on business appointments but I don't do much of either anymore but the thoughts are still there. I enjoy writing and I hope you find something that you connect with on either of my blogs. Thoughtsfromthepassengerseat.blog - Thoughts From the Passenger Seat NancyB422.com - It’s All About Family

14 thoughts on “January 31st”

  1. i had a similar time with my grandmother after a car accident compromised each and every organ function one by one from January to Valentine’s Day. the reason i didn’t drive her was because i had a date that night. i’ll never let myself forget it. “slipping away” is the only way to describe this situation. It was tough for me but I know it was unearthly traumatic for my mother. I’m sorry. those things never leave, they just become a silent resident in your house forever. i wish you and your family grace and peace through your remembrance of this time. life can be absolutely cruel and i make it my business to know that every morning when i wake up and before i go off doing stuff not thinking of any peripheral consequences. Mike

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  4. It’s so hard to lose a mother, especially when it comes so quickly that you don’t really have time to adapt to the hard reality of that loss. It’s no wonder it still hurts, all these years later. I’m so sorry!

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  5. I came across your blog while searching for blogs about glioblastoma because my own mom is suffering from GBM. The story you wrote about her decline beginning with forgetfulness is similar to ours. GBM is a hell in another universe and if people haven’t personally seen it up close, they don’t understand.

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