My Mom, Helen V. Kiel, was born September 8, 1917 in Wilmington, Delaware. Her parents were Helen and Edgar Owens. At the age of 12 it was necessary for her to leave school to care for her younger brothers and sister. Times were hard and her mother needed to go to work to help support the family. At around the age of 15 my Mom started smoking (Lucky Strikes).
At age 17 she married my Father Belmont R. Kiel in Keyport, New Jersey. Together they had four children, my sister, my two brothers, and me. My Mom went back to school and to work when I was seven. My father had become disabled and she needed to work to take care of us. My Dad died at age 67, and that is when my Mom came to live with me, 1982.
We became the best of friends, going shopping, going to Atlantic City and bingo. We did everything together. At age 75 Mom was diagnosed with emphysema and finally quit smoking. Her health was pretty good except for a little shortness of breath going up and down stairs. In 2001 we moved from New York to North Carolina, I thought the warmer weather would be good for Mom, and my oldest brother lives down here.
In August of 2002 Mom started having a lot of fatigue. Her shortness of breath also seemed to be getting worse. The doctor we started using prescribed oxygen for her to use at home and a few different inhalers. September 2002 Mom was given clearance to have cataract surgery. She was so pleased she could finally see all the things she had been missing. October 2002 Mom had lost 5 lbs. , and was still getting tired very easily. Her doctor advised her to increase her oxygen and try and eat a little more.
November 2002 Mom was still complaining of fatigue and shortness of breath. Her doctor did a pulmonary function test and said her lungs were good. At 85 they expected her to be tired. She was also given clearance to have her other eye operated on in December for cataracts. The holidays came and went.
January 2003 Mom just didn�t seem to have the get up and go she always had. I was starting to worry, as her appetite was also getting poor. January 18, 2003 I finally said Mom you have got to go to the Emergency Room and find out what is wrong. They did the normal blood work and a chest x-ray. A large mass was found on her right lung. They said is could possibly be pneumonia or a tumor. She was admitted that day. On Sunday January 19, 2003 a CAT scan was taken of her chest and abdomen. I couldn�t reach her doctor on Sunday or Monday. Monday evening I finally went to the nurses desk to ask about her tests. The nurse looked at me and said, "You know she has cancer don�t you?� I wanted to fall through the floor, and to scream, "No, I didn�t". I had to walk back to Mom�s room and tell her the tests weren�t back yet. How could I tell my Mom she had cancer? I finally reached her doctor and the next morning my brother and the doctor and I went to tell her. They took a lung biopsy that morning. It came back small cell lung cancer. It had also spread to her liver. We were told nothing could be done and she was sent home that day with hospice.
My brother and sister came down to stay with us that weekend to help with Mom. Family came in from all over the states to see her. Within days of her coming home Mom started to experience pain in her abdomen. Oxycontin was given at first, and then she was switched to a morphine patch with a liquid morphine for breakthrough pain. I was so nervous giving her these medications. I was afraid I was going to hurt her, or even worse. I kept calling the hospice nurse getting advice all hours of the night and day. They were wonderful and assured me I was doing everything correctly. The last few days Mom couldn�t get up anymore and took nothing but a little water. She slept a lot. The whole family took turns sitting with her, so she would never be alone. Every night I slept on the floor beside her bed. I was so afraid she would need me and I wouldn�t hear her. The final day Mom�s breathing seemed to be labored and very quick. I would not leave her side for a minute. The last half hour my sister and I were with her and her breathing seemed to calm down. I didn�t know if that was good or not. I was singing to her and telling her stories. At 7:30 p.m. February 5, 2003 Mom took her last breath. I had lost my best friend. The emptiness overwhelmed me, but I knew she was no longer in pain. Only 18 days from the time of diagnosis. I am still trying to let it set in. Please watch down on me Mama, and help me to find the way.
