Hope in Times of Despair – A Tribute to My Mom

By Maya J. Carter

I was trying to fall asleep last evening; it seems that a decent night’s sleep is something that has eluded many of us for the past four plus years. When I finally closed my eyes, I was haunted with memories of a phone call placed by my mother and her Gastrointestinal specialist this past October. They called to discuss the results of her endoscopy and the corresponding pathology report – the doctor told us she had stage IV gastric adenocarcinoma, and my mind went blank. I felt a sense of despair that I have never before experienced in my lifetime, and the feeling washed over me again. I could not fall asleep for over an hour afterwards.

My mother passed in mid-November, leaving behind me and my brothers, family, friends, and co-workers who cherished her kindness, love, compassion, optimism, and desire to ensure fairness and justice for all, particularly the forgotten and downtrodden. I have the white board I created to keep record of her medications and medical results; the calendars which I used to track her numerous medical appointments; photos of the thank you board I made to express gratitude towards those who visited to comfort her and my family; sunflower displays inspired by my brother that I made to add to the color and atmosphere of liveliness in her room; the text messages my mother and I shared to send messages of encouragement; the voicemails she left to check in on me from time to time; some of the family photos she stored away capturing important events in our lives; and some small items which I felt represented her best like the glass angel she kept in a box in her closet. I do not physically have her with me anymore, yet she occupies the places in my heart and soul where joyful memories of her are kept.

I do not wish to rehash all of what happened between the short time of her diagnosis and unexpected passing; just know there were many sleepless nights. I did not sleep well for that month. But one memory of that time will forever stick out in my mind, and if you please, I will share it here with you.

The afternoon of November 1, 2020 was not a good one for my mom. She was in excruciating pain, unable to keep anything down even with receiving nutrition only through tube feeds, and feeling just miserable overall. I suspected something was wrong as her stomach grew more and more distended, and took her to the emergency department where we would spend most of the night, not being discharged until early the next morning. We were both exhausted. During the visit I nodded off too many times to count, waking up only to speak to the nurses and doctor, to hear buzzes and alarms of the medical equipment in the ER, and to check on my mom, holding her hand to comfort her as by this time she rarely spoke. At around 2:30 AM, the nurse kindly provided me with a cup of black coffee and two packets of sugar to ensure that I made the seven minute trek home safely.

We settled back into the house where my brother, aunts and I eased her back up the stairs to her room. We placed her in the recliner we had recently purchased at her request – she preferred sitting upright in that chair to the antiquated hospital bed the medical supply provided us. I found it funny that she never told me the recliner had a massage function, which I had not discovered until after she passed. My mom, always the keeper of funny secrets…

At around 8 AM, my mom awoke slightly groggy from the medications she took the evening before. The daytime caregiver was starting to help her out of her chair, when my mom said something that let me know that she was still aware of all that was going on around her. She said, “I need to vote!”

After chuckling, I asked my mom if she was still tired as she had had such a rough day and night before, but she just gave me that look that read, “I said what I said.”

So, being one to never cross my mom who had the determination and focus of a lioness, I replied, “Let’s do this then!” Days before she had diligently sorted through her mail to search for her absentee ballot to no avail. We got her dressed, masked up and ready, slowly helped her down the stairs and into the wheelchair that awaited, and lifted her into the SUV. The caregiver and one of my aunts drove my mom to the poll, while I stayed behind at home grinning from ear to ear. I could not have been more proud of my mom at that moment. She had been going through so much with this startling, life altering diagnosis and its associated treatment, yet selflessly thought about the good of the nation. My mom was determined to get into Good Trouble.

About 30 minutes later, they returned feeling a bit deflated. They were unable to accomplish the task at hand because the poll was closed. My mom was helped back into her recliner and dozed off for a bit. I wondered what she was thinking. I was hoping she had not felt discouraged, because that would be a horrible blow on top of all that she had been dealing with – thinking over her life and wondering how she contributed, reflecting upon her very mortality, worrying about how her children would be taken care of if she were no longer here.

I think I ate lunch that day, as most days my appetite was diminished. I went back upstairs after eating, and sat again with my mom. I think it was around 12:30 PM that she suddenly awaken, stared at me, and said with the same determination she demonstrated before, “I NEED TO VOTE!” I laughed and thought, “Go head, Momma!” I replied, “Yes, ma’am!”

So, her caregiver and I got her ready again for mission roll to the poll take two. We gathered her up, got her down the stairs which took about 5 minutes, eased her in the wheelchair and then back into the car. We checked and rechecked for her ID. Certain that we were indeed ready to make this happen for my mom, I drove wishing I had had another cup of that strong black coffee; I was my newfound destiny to get her there by hook or crook…rooting more towards the hook part. When we arrived at the poll, the caregiver rolled her up the ramp and into the building as I sat in the SUV watching with a sense of absolute pride. What strength my mom had within her, and I was humbled to witness her might in action.

I must have fallen asleep again, because I was suddenly jolted into consciousness, hearing sounds and thinking someone was breaking into the back seat. I turned around, and there she was with the biggest smile, proudly wearing an “I Voted” sticker. After struggling to get into the back seat – she had been feeling so physically weak as of late – she held up both hands flashing the “V for victory” sign. I laughed and snapped a photo. My mom was my heroine before, but she became my personal superhero at that moment.

I still have the photo and her “I Voted” sticker which will always remind me that even in times of darkness, when it feels as hopelessness permeates the collective psyche of a nation, there can be found shining moments of triumph, hope and tenacity to remind us that we will get through the haze and that good will always prevail.

In the meanwhile, after she voted, my family and I continued to watch the cable news, staying up well into the night while cycling through the then routine ritual of administering medications and following up on lab results and making appointments. The election results were rolling in slowly on November 3, 2020. We witnessed what was happening in Georgia with a glimmer of hope. We expressed our disgust regarding the lie that the current administration was perpetuating about voter fraud. My mom remained mostly silent, but during the few moments when she could focus on the news, she would occasionally nod in agreement or shake her head in distress. The election was not being called for what seemed like an eternity.

On November 7, 2020, we were back in the emergency department. The first visit was to diagnose a painful small bowel obstruction; this time to treatment fluid building up in the lungs which caused my mom to have difficulty breathing. There were too many hospital visits during that time. Oddly enough, while we were keenly aware of the prevalence of COVID-19 and hospital restrictions for visitors, I was able to accompany my mother to all of her visits due to her inability to be able to communicate, but mostly the healthcare teams were sympathetic to us because she was receiving end-of-life care. During his visit, my mom and I watched the election finally being called for President-Elect Joe Biden on a small hospital room television. We watched the jubilant crowds celebrating in the streets across the nation. We watched the relief of news correspondents covering news of the gatherings, where they could report on a sense of progress and feelings of hope and determination expressed by the attendees. I watched my mom as she watched it all unfold. By voting for a better vision for this country, by doing her civic duty despite the personal battle she faced, she knew that she had made a difference even in her final days. Her eyes would open briefly, a smile would quickly flash across her face, and I knew at that moment, we would all be alright come what may.

I share this story of my mom to remind us that there are those fearless warriors with indomitable spirits still here fighting for the future of our nation. The unsung heroes and well known figures alike are guiding lights during this trying time in our nation’s history. No wicked insurrection inspired by a narcissistic tyrant can defeat the spirit of Americans that are determined to see to it that our democracy remain free from the nefarious ideologies and actions of the dregs of our society. We, who are positive agents for change, have the power to create an all inclusive society where we all benefit and push forward progress. We must remember to speak our truth, actively engage in our civic duties including voting, and speak up for those who may feel the future is bleak and hopeless because it is not. No matter what our personal struggles, we must always make Good Trouble, just like my mom…

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