Cane You Help Me?

Cane You Help Me?

The next ‘Chapter’ if you will, would be when my mother got her cane. This was hard as this was the end of May. May 19th to be exact. It was my brother Marc’s birthday, and Eric (my other brother) all flew home to celebrate Marc’s birthday at our house (since my mother could not travel). At this time, in the house was only my dad, myself, and my mom. So mainly my dad and I had been seeing my mother every second and could track progress. Her having a cane was normal for us. It was simply a device to help her move. But to her, it was a sign of defeat. I think a simple cane was more defeating to my mother than hearing she had Cancer. She was one tough bitch. She had me call my brothers beforehand to “prepare them” to see her like this. Quite honestly, she looked fine but just had a slight limp with facial slouch. She was still the same woman. Same spark, but she had just seemed to be a bit preoccupied. I mean who wouldn’t. We treated this visit as any other. It felt the same; my mom moved around, it was truly the same except she just had a cane. Little did we know that cane served as the door to what had begun to be the wildest summer we would ever see.

At this time it was announced my dad had received the award for ‘Planner of the Year’ at Lincoln Financial. The magazine that would go out nationwide asked for a family photo. This meant this photo would have been taken during this time. We went out to our front porch. We soon realized our next main obstacle: Stairs. I have pictures still of my brothers and my father holding my mother up. They were 3 stairs down to our lawn, but to my mom they symbolized another demonstration of how her tumor was affecting her. My brothers helped her down and we all posed together. Right before the photo was taken my mom said “This looks like a bad Puerto Rican wake”. Her humor never was affected. I swear, the people going through the most are always the best spirited. Her realizing that three simple steps were now a new obstacle were just opening the door to seeing the obstacles around her.

After this weekend, it felt like a strange lul. We knew it was bad, but we didn’t see many changes after a week or so. For Brain Tumor timelines, a week is like a year. Everyday was something new, so you can just imagine how much one week felt like. At this time in the summer, my Mother was able to use the bathroom alone, walk alone, eat alone, and hold her own. We helped her, but in a way an elderly parent would move. She had the cognitive ability to function independently. This also meant my dad and I were able to continue what ‘Normal’ life was. My dad went to work everyday 9-5, and I had worked my internship part time during the week, and worked as a waitress during the weekends. Anything to feel normal. Every time I walked into my internship at the time, I forgot what was happening at home. I could be a normal 20 year old. I didn’t have to think about how there was an evil tumor eating my mother to death. I just thought of how I could make the office a happy place. Be goofy, yet professional. Then by the first week in June there was a shift. Closer to the end of May, my dad and I started saying home for more hours than we did in the beginning of the summer. We also started going to the beach house on the weekends. One weekend in particular I remember getting my nails done with my mom at a salon near the beach house. Thinking back, it was the last time my mom and I got our nails done together. During this, I remember sitting at the pedicure chairs. I was texting with my supervisor at the Restaurant and realized there was issue with my schedule as I wanted to be home more, and work was becoming a lot. I had told my mom about this conversation I was having with my supervisor, then out of nowhere, my mom suggested I quit. She would have never done this before. She was all for women working hard. I didn’t realize it in the moment, but when she said that, she was saying ‘Stay home with me to enjoy the time I have left’. Which turned out to be the case. So I quit. This left only my internship during 3 days during the weekday, which was manageable with my father’s schedule. Quitting my restaurant job meant another chapter in this horror story. It meant that time was becoming short. It wasn’t months with someone that mattered, it was the days. The days turned to hours, and hours to minutes. So I started staying home all the time, except for the few days a week I would commute into Manhattan for my internship. Even then, my mother was never alone. Her mother, or my Aunt would come over as my dad and I kept on trying to be ‘Normal’.

I had been interning at House Casting, which is part of Milk Media LLC. It was my first internship in casting, and the first I came across not knowing anyone at all. Funny enough, in January I applied for both internships at House Casting and at Telsey and Co Casting (where I ended up interning after my mom died). House had gotten back to me and hired me by the time Telsey had reached out to me. This in a way was a blessing in disguise, as Telsey required interns to be in work everyday, whereas House was dependent on your credits. Little did I know, if I had to intern everyday the summer my mom got sick, I would have had to drop out or quit the internship and fail my credits. House let me go home to my mother to make dinner or take care of her, or to miss a day to be home with my mom. I remember when I was talking about how accommodating House was with me as a caretaker with someone my direct supervisor Nicole (an actual saint) said to me “ When you are at a place that allows you to put family first, you know you’re at the right place”. That was House. It truly was a home to me. Boy was she right.

Sadly, not everyone is like House/ Nicole. You truly expect people to get it. You expect people to ask how you are and if you want to get food or see a movie. You expect people a month after to feel the same endless agony as you. To not function. It’s the opposite. You’re expected to just be sad for a little bit and then go back to pretending like life is great like any other day. I had an idea of what it would be like when my mom died. Selfishly speaking, for me. I expected to shut away for weeks. Hoping people would ask where I was, or to check in, or want to see me and see if I’m okay. That’s how it works in movies right? The person is shut away, and their friends band together and take them out? No. I had to go right back to my life. Immediately. No rest. My first job out of college taught me if you’re not moving forward and putting work before your life you’re failing, but that’s not true..but we will get to that later.