November 22, 1997

As I look around my apartment, I see the semblance of a Museum Ode to My Family. Among the memorabilia, I have my dad's cowboy hat, 1950s radio, and bowling pin trophy.

Daddy's treasures

I have boxes of family photo albums that were rescued from my dad's apartment the day we cleaned it out. I have my grandma's quilt, glasses, robe, and flower shoes.

Grandma's special things

A special treasure is my bronzed baby shoes that were on my parents' mantle.

A family heirloom

Oddly, I don't have anything of my mother's. I'm not sure why that is, but I do have pictures like this one I keep on my nightstand.

Helping Mama blow out her birthday candles

Twelve years ago today, my mother was receiving one of her dialysis treatments at the center she went to three times a week. Grandma took her since Daddy worked and I was in school.

At approximately 7:00 pm, my roommate at the time came running into the Baptist Student Ministries event I was attending. She told me that my dad had left a message on our answering machine (the days before cell phones) that my mother had been taken to the hospital and I should go down there.

I was not overly concerned because my mother's health had been poor for five years, and the hospital had become a second home. She went in, and then she always came home.

My friend, Zandra, and I drove to the hospital. My father and grandmother were at the ICU, and told me that my mother had a heart attack while at dialysis. She had gone about 8 minutes without oxygen to her brain, and they weren't sure how much damage had been done. The doctor was asking us whether or not we wanted to file a DNR.

That's when I knew this was a hospital visit like none of the others.

I went in to see my mother. It was very disturbing. She was in a coma. There were lots of tubes, and blood kept dripping from her nose. Mama wasn't there.

We decided to file a DNR.

We spent that night in uncomfortable chairs in the hospital.