I frequently get one song stuck in my head throughout the day. It may momentarily be silent while my mind becomes otherwise engaged, but as soon as the engagement is over that one song of the day returns. The song for today was Tim McGraw's, Live Like You Were Dying; not b/c I'm a big fan of country music, but it was on Mackenzie's radio when I went upstairs, as I've done every morning for 17 years, to check on my daughters. I'm not sure when I developed this fear that something may have happened to them during the night. It probably started way back when they were babies, and I worried about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). I guess it's doubly ironic then that this Tim McGraw song was playing on the radio this morning as I assured myself that my daughters were still breathing, and as I questioned whether Mom lived like she was dying.
When we received the first prognosis that she only had two to three years, did she start living like she was going to die, or did she live to keep from dying? The former accepts the prognosis and sets about fulfilling a "Bucket List" while the latter rejects the prognosis and sets about doing all she can to outrun death. I think Mom wanted to do the former, but we made her do the latter. Looking back I believe she had her own private Bucket List b/c deep in her heart, several years before the fatal prognosis, she set about doing some of the things she always wanted to do. At age 75 she finally rode in an airplane. It was only a 20-minute ride at a 4th of July Flight Breakfast where I live, but she flew. At age 76 she took an Amtrak trip w/ Dad to California to visit her cousin, Evelyn, w/whom she was raised . There's a certain symmetry in that train trip. The first time she saw Evelyn a train brought her from Colorado to Iowa, and the last time she saw her a train brought her from Iowa to California. I think Mom knew that she had to live like she was dying before the doctors confirmed that she was dying. B/c once that confirmation came, all the rest of us cared about were the surgeries and treatments that would keep her alive even though she wasn't living. I look at the pictures taken in the last year of her life and realize there's no spark, no life. Sometimes I wonder if all the medical treatments actually lessened her quality of life and made her last year less enjoyable than if we'd just accepted the reality and enjoyed every day we had w/ her. Just now a single-engine plane from our small airport flew overhead. Could very well be the same one Mom rode in.
Tim McGraw's song is a reminder for all of us to enjoy every day as if we were unsure if there would be a tomorrow. But when the reality that the number of Mom's tomorrows was truly limited, we became more concerned w/ prolonging her life rather than sustaining her happiness. All living creatures possess an instinct for self preservation, which is necessary to keep the race or breed going, and Mom fought to live for us. From the time of her lung surgery three years ago, she lived in pain b/c she knew we weren't ready to let her go. I guess we needed a gestation period, of sorts. Expectant parents use that time of development to prepare for the arrival of their newborns. Expectant mourners of cancer patients should use that time to develop a plan for living and not just a plan to keep from dying.
(NOTE: I'm posting this on 20 June b/c on the 19th I was prolonging my happiness through memories of watching three softball games, spending time w/ visiting relatives, and celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary w/ my husband.)
No comments:
Post a Comment