Chapter 4: Jermaine
! ! I remember the day my Mother was
diagnosed with a brain tumor. It was the day after Christmas when she was admitted to the emergency room, feeling lightheaded and weak. We stepped directly into what turned out to be a year and a half whirlwind of emotions and difficult decisions. Mom had a brain tumor and it was growing fast. !
Mom did not have health insurance. She had recently been laid off and was living
with me as a way to make ends meet. No job, no insurance, and a mountain of bills left her overwhelmed. Â We all were making adjustments as our blended family began living under one roof. Even with a less than ideal situation, I really appreciated her being close and having the opportunity to see my 3 little ones grown up. This was the beginning of that strange time most children experience when they begin to support their parents because they can no longer support themselves. It was
heartbreaking, but I knew I had to become Mom’s supporter. !
Brain surgery was her first treatment. Prior to surgery, Mom was a God-loving Christian who always found the silver lining in situations. Â She sincerely believed and trusted that God would heal her, and she went into surgery hopeful. The surgery left Mom slightly paralyzed on the right side of her body. We were not prepared. I watched as the positive spirit Mom cherished began to fade. I watched as she began to physically
deteriorate, unable to help with much of anything. I watched, as her limited physical ability created a level of frustration and negativity that I did not think possible in such a God-loving person. She was forever changed. !
She stayed in the hospital for several months after surgery, waking up frustrated that she was not able to move her limbs. We were hopeful that physical therapy would help her regain mobility and alleviate some of the frustration Mom was feeling. She
eventually came home and we weren’t prepared. I had no understanding of the amount of compassion, patience, and commitment required to care for a loved one. This was my first experience with cancer and I wasn’t ready. Mom was angry. It was not clear what triggered her anger, but there were so many possibilities. She was angry and emotional and overwhelmed. Her overwhelming feeling increased after learning that her medication caused her to have diabetes. So much was changing with
her condition in such a short time, and we all were scared of what would happen next. !
Chemotherapy left Mom weak and scared to walk. She lost all hope and secluded herself to her room, not wanting to speak. She went from walking into her doctor’s office for checkups to eventually requiring paramedics to pick her up. Her tumor reemerged and she lost all faith. She officially gave up. !
To say that living with cancer is difficult would be an understatement. Even though Mom had the diagnosis, my whole family was living with her cancer. She needed around the clock care, and her growing anger put a strain on our relationship, as well as my relationship with my wife. I was torn. My loyalty and support had always been to my wife, but my mother was dying. There was so much tension in my home, and I started avoiding Mom as much as possible. I was unaware at the time but the growing tumor was causing her to be mean and
violent both in her words and her actions. The tension continued to grow in the house; the kids were not immune to its effects. Things got so bad that a year after her diagnosis, Mom and my sister moved out. I hoped that with a little distance things would get better, but they did not. I loved Mom, but our relationship was strained and my family life had been damaged severely. It’s amazing how one diagnosis can cause so much pain. !
On top of all the drastic family dynamic changes, Mom began to deteriorate faster. The doctors finally had to admit that there was nothing else they could do to help her and the entire family was heartbroken by the news. Her fate was sealed, and we weren’t ready.  The tumor spread to both sides of her brain and doubled in size. Mom had to move again- this time, to a state-run nursing home that we hoped could provide her with around-the-clock support. She had no insurance, so our options were limited. !
I know that she had given up, but had I given up on her as well? I began to question everything as Mom faded further and further away from me. The family and I would visit, but loving her from a distance seemed unnatural. My wife and I wanted to be by her side constantly. We loved her unconditionally and, despite her deteriorating state, wanted her to know. We had years of memories, and we clung to them hard during this time. Staying positive and hopeful was hard.
Mother’s Day 2012, I went to visit Mom. I found her lying in the bed with unchewed food from the previous day sitting in her mouth. She had suffered a stroke, and no one had checked on her since meal time the previous day. I was heartbroken and angry. Mom was moved again, this time to a local hospital for what I hoped would be more attentive care than what the state nursing facility provided. !
The next several weeks were the most emotionally intense weeks of my life. Mom
made me her health care agent, which meant I was officially in charge of her life. I wasn’t ready. I would never wish on anyone the moment in a loved ones life where you have to decide if they should remain on life support, if they should have a feeding tube, and if they should be treated at a Hospice. I questioned myself constantly, wondering if picking life support would be selfish of me. Hospice was the next choice, and I wondered if moving her there would be me giving up on her. The power of determining when someone passes away is agonizing
and dark. The stroke in the nursing home left Mom unconscious; it was now time for me to make a decision. She was moved to hospice. !
Mom spent a few days in hospice before I received a call on May 27th, 2012 from the staff informing me that her breathing was abnormal and that she would not make it through the night. They encouraged me to come in to say goodbye to her and to notify my family should they want to make a final visit. I knew this call was coming, but I didn’t
want to hear it. I wasn’t ready, and my wife and I decided not to go. Remembering Mom as the loving and compassionate person she was before cancer changed her is all I could think of doing. She was gone. !
Over the last 11 years, I had lost my grandmother, grandfather, brother, and now my Mother. They were my family and the closest people to my heart. Mom’s funeral was different from the rest, because from her last living moments to her funeral I was in charge of her arrangements. She didn’t
have life insurance, so organizing her funeral was a true community event. I offer big thanks to family and friends that we were able to help send her off properly. To God be the glory! !
Patricia Jeanette Mastin-Moore was laid to rest on June 7, 2012. Speaking at Mom’s funeral was something I knew I had to do because I still carried with me the regrets of not speaking at my brother’s funeral. I shared with everyone the different manifestations of cancer we all suffer with,
both biological and emotional. We all are vulnerable to destructive and poisonous behaviors, attitudes, bitterness and the inability to forgive. Mom was in pain at the end of her life, and it was important for me to release the pain I felt towards her and the cancer she carried before laying her to rest. I truly believe that living is about overcoming cancers of all forms and holding true to faith. !
Mom is missed incredibly, but her cancer is not. I think of her daily and thank God for
her presence in my life. We are all still healing from her cancer, and she has brought a true understanding of faith to my family that has left us forever grateful. It’s amazing how the most unfortunate trials can birth amazing healing, blessings, and change in the lives of others. It’s how we view the trial that counts. !
My story has been offered up in many situations to help others deal with their personal trials. Mom will forever live in our hearts, along with our trust and faith in
God. God is always in control and he will never leave us. !
Jermaine Turner @Jpixphoto