Easter night was the start of my impromptu medical training, with a specialty in terminal colon cancer. I had 3 computer monitors in front of me, eyes glazed over, 64 open tabs of information...searching for something. Anything, really, that would tell me my mom was okay. Unfortunately everything pointed to something horrible.
I was probably halfway into eating the ears off my third chocolate bunny when I had had enough. It was in that moment that the roles reversed in our family. I knew something was wrong, and no one seemed to be concerned about it besides me.
Having been a drama queen growing up, I didn't exactly have the best track record in the crisis department. But I knew I needed to find a way to convince them that this was very serious.
I called my dad and urged him to take mom to the hospital. I explained how her stomach distention was (according to my newly-found medical training) likely a bowel obstruction of some sort, and that people can die from bowel obstructions.
Perfectly on brand, he didn't know her stomach was distended because she had never told him. She had promised him she was fine.
I insisted they call her PCP in the morning to get her in ASAP. An appointment was scheduled for later that week for an endoscopy, CT scan, and, ALAS! A COLONOSCOPY. I was still concerned about her stomach distention, and I asked if she or my dad had conveyed the concern to her doctor. The response was a resounding, "No."
Her endoscopy was done the following day, Tuesday, April 6, 2021. They found nothing alarming, other than Barrett's esophagus, which we already knew she had.
SIDE NOTE: My grandma Olga, my mom's mom, had died at age 60 from Esophageal cancer. My mom's brother, Ken, had also died from cancer, cancer we had believed to be Esophageal cancer as well.
I mention this because there was always an underlying focus on potential Upper GI issues since she was genetically predisposed to these types of issues. No one seemed to think below the belt.
The following day, April 7, 2021, mom started her colonoscopy prep. She was scheduled the next morning to have a CT scan and the colonoscopy. Only one of these appointments took place.
Attempting a prep for a colonoscopy is challenging enough, but coupled with already-existing nausea and diarrhea, the prep was almost too hard to complete. She became violently ill, and spent the evening feeling even sicker.
Thursday, morning, April 8, 2021, my dad took her for her CT scan. She had been throwing up all night and morning (again, this is out of character for her because of her "iron stomach."), and the hospital SENT HER HOME.
I had had enough and was worried she could die, so I drove to their house, and they weren't home. I immediately called my dad, and he said they were walking into St. Clair Hospital because her doctor had called with the results of her CT scan, and the results were not good.
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