Hi all, my mom died about 1.5 years ago. We took her to the hospital on my birthday because she was having trouble reading and with motor skills, and were told after an MRI that she had aggressive Glioblastoma Multiforme, stage 4. From that moment I didn’t leave her side. I stayed every night with her in the hospital, assisted her as bodily functions and motor skills rapidly failed her, and quit my 3 jobs to care for her around the clock. I had just gotten home from college the week prior and hardly had any time to spend with her before all of this happened.

For some reason, the place that I feel connected to her most is the hospital where she went into a near vegetative state post-surgery that was a failed biopsy attempt which was only 4 days after we arrived. I would go to the cafe at midnight and order an Earl Grey tea and a latte, chug the caffeine, and wander the halls at night. She’d wake up every hour on the hour and refused hospital staff assistance, so I changed her sheets and talked to her, got her food and helped her with hygiene. 

I will never ever forget the quiet of that room, listening to her sleep, holding her hand and listening to the moniters, praying they didn’t stop. I alerted staff to issues and helped everyone stay on the same page about her status. She died less than a month later. She went into the hospital walking, talking to my dad and I, begrudgingly doing tests telling us we were overreacting. Less than 2 weeks later she went to a nursing home for end of life care. By then she was exhibiting little to no consciousness. Then she just… left. 

I don’t know why the negativity of those memories doesn’t hit as hard as the relief of being with her does. It was the most horrifying experience I have ever had in my life, watching helplessly as she rapidly became more confused, begging to go home. Wasn’t able to express that she was in pain until I demanded they run tests because her HR was elevated for so long. The smell of her body was foreign, she lost so much weight, the life literally just drained out of her body and eyes. But that hospital is the place I feel closest to her, it was our last quiet loving moments together through the pain and confusion. The only peace I can comprehend is that she was never, ever alone from the moment she walked in there, and I can’t deny that. 

My favorite quiet place is the hospital where she died