One day she found herself in the hospital demanding “Enough is enough.” The treatments were no longer bringing her extra life, instead they were negatively impacting the fleeting life she had left. Her cancer was unbeatable. There was no longer a treatment or a cure.
Instead of enduring painful medical plans that were no longer working she knew when to stop. So at that moment, she did. Sometimes being heroic is knowing when you’re fighting a battle that has no winner and boldly exiting that fight. Sometimes being heroic is knowing when to stop even though others are begging you to keep going.
She was being heroic and we knew it but we also knew that it meant the end. We knew that it would mean she would quickly turn from a hero to an angel. Those knowings are indescribable.
Laying in that hospital bed she declared that enough was enough. She declared that she was done with treatments. She declared that she was stepping out of this hospital into her last days with every amount of energy, poise, and love that she had left within her. She declared that she was taking back the power and deciding what she would do with the time that remained. We’ve always trusted her, so we trusted her then too.
While she was confidently proclaiming “enough is enough”, we were silently screaming “nothing will ever be enough!” Her referring to her treatment plan, us talking about her time. We would both be right. Both would be true. Enough was enough while also nothing would ever be enough.
We let her lead her last steps and her last days. We let her plan each moment for as long as she physically and mentally could. We let her guide us and direct us and teach us the last lessons she held. We gave her anything and everything she wanted, wishing desperately that she could do the same for us. And all we wanted in those moments was her for longer, all we wanted was for her not to go.
Who knew that within days we would be the ones repeating the harsh words we resented when she spoke them. Who knew that we would be uttering the very same three words she did just a week before. Enough is enough.
Words I never thought I would say, especially relating to the life and precious soul of my mother. But watching someone you love slowly die and fade away changes you and has you praying for things you actually hate yourself for praying for.
Eventually it was us boldly and heartbreakingly whispering “enough is enough”.
Enough pain.
Enough medicine and needle pricks.
Enough delaying the inevitable.
Enough of keeping her here just for us.
Enough.
If she cannot be healed. If she cannot be free of pain. If she cannot be the next miracle. Then enough is enough.
Enough is enough, mom. You were right.
