A little of the Back Story

Looking back, Colton went through many challenges with his health. As a toddler and in his early school years, he suffered from constant ear/nose/throat issues that came with extremely high fever. I was forever taking him to the Doctor’s office, then specialists, and quite often the Emergency room. These constant infections led to a lack of the ability to concentrate at school and I spent countless hours with workbooks at home, teaching him the basics one-on-one which I found he could grasp quite easily. A group of teachers, speech and language pathologists, and learning assistants told me that he would likely always need extra help in school due to his learning disability. I told them, quite angrily, that he didn’t have a learning disability, he had health issues. So, we agreed to disagree. By middle school, Colton made the work habits Honor Roll, and by high school he was on the Academic Honor Roll. Then his health started to take a turn for the worse.

During his Grad year he suffered from a condition called Pilonidal Sinus. It caused several infected cysts that required two surgeries, hospital time and in-home care.

Then, leading up to and including his 19th birthday, he suffered an extreme sinus infection that moved in behind his eye, literally moving his eye over with the swelling. The infection spread through him so bad that he suffered extreme headaches that took us to the Emergency room on several occasions where they simply treated him for migraines. Thankfully our family Doctor happened to be there one night, saw him and said “that’s no migraine, he needs surgery immediately!” They went in at the corner of his eye as well as his nose to drain the infection which could have killed him if it had burst in his head. A close call.

By 2015, he told me about a spot that the dental hygienist saw at the back of his tongue during a routine cleaning. Colton never missed a dental appointment, and had never had a single cavity. He then tried to open up and show me this spot but I couldn’t really see much. He said it didn’t hurt but that the dentist would keep an eye on it. Eventually they scraped it and sent it away to be tested and it came back fine, and we didn’t worry about it. Over time, several months to a year, he mentioned that it was starting to be painful and hurt when he ate, like a canker sore. By this time, Randy and I had been transferred to Edmonton, 8 hours away. He had to make all of his own Dr. appointments and follow through by himself. He was living on his own, with his girlfriend and they were living life. All grown up.

Thanksgiving weekend in Edmonton. Randy had taken a week to go back to Prince George to go hunting with his eldest son and his father. Colton and his girlfriend decided to take a road trip and visit me. We had such a great time that weekend, and now it’s one of my fondest memories. October in Edmonton is cold. We wore our winter coats to take Louie our Frenchton puppy for walks to a nearby park. I took a video on my phone of Colton and his girl playing on the merry go round like a couple of little kids, then going down the slide taking the puppy with them. We just enjoyed our time immensely, going to the West Edmonton Mall where we played mini golf, video games, saw a movie, all the fun stuff. We took the time to visit the Science center. I cooked a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving, God I loved to cook for that boy and watch him eat! I will cherish that visit always as it was the last one before he got his test results back before Christmas. The spot on the back of his tongue was Squamous Cell Carcinoma. Cancer. We weren’t sure what to expect but it wasn’t that.

A conversation in Hospice

He said “mom, this morning I woke up to someone crying and saying ‘I missed it'”. I said “Well, honey, many people wait until their loved ones are out of the room before they pass. They go to get coffee or go pee and when they come back it’s too late. They think they’re saving them from the pain of seeing them go”. He looked at me and nodded, a very thoughtful look on his face. I looked him right in the eyes and said “Don’t be that guy”. He said to me “I’ll see what I can do, mom”.

I spent hours and hours holding his hand. I had Randy sneak a few photos of our hands so that I could remember how it felt. At first, in the hospital, he didn’t want me to take pictures and would get angry about everything, but later in Hospice he didn’t mind. Most of his anger was gone. His true sweet personality shone back through and he was full of love, laughter and kindness for all of his family, friends and visitors that dropped by. He pushed himself to stay awake when he should’ve rested, knowing time was short.

He would make the effort to get up and walk over and wrap his arms around me and say “love you, momma”. He always did a little tickle thing on my back with his fingers. His signature thing. I would move heaven and earth to feel him do that again.

A letter to my brother, Nov. 30, 2017

Colton Update

Hi bro, here’s a brief update

The Dr. doesn’t want to move him to Cochrane but it’s Colton’s wish to be with me so he’s trying to get his meds regulated so that he can manage without an IV. He’ll be on a fentinol patch and pills for the pain management and we have contacted our Dr. in Cochrane already.

We’re hoping for this to happen in a week or so. The oncologist told us he thinks he has several months left. He’s starting to eat more so he’s gaining a bit of energy so that’s good. The go fund me page has raised $6500 so far so that will definitely help. Also there’s an event planned at the pub by their place on the 17th with a silent auction, 50/50 etc. Thankfully he has loan protector insurance on his debt so he is in effect debt free, as this is important to him. He has signed a DNR. I have a copy. He and his girlfriend will likely have a small ceremony to marry once we’re settled, she wants that so bad. The cancer is the same Squamous Cell Carcinoma but has spread to his lung, ribs, vertebrae, liver and now skull. It is not in his brain. Although he is fairly short tempered on occasion he is ‘all there’ and wants family around. His father and step mom left to go home today but I’ll be staying to fly back with him so it had better be soon. They gave notice to be out by the end of the month. Randy will take back whatever he can when he heads back in a day or two. Work is so crazy heading into Christmas, I can’t believe I’m not there. Honestly I can’t believe any of this. Randy says this is just another River of Shit that we have to cross, but for me, there’s just a world without Colton on the other side of it. The body has an endless supply of tears, and the heart has the ability to beat while continually breaking. This is fucking unfair. No one should have to be in such pain or to witness their child trying to endure it. Love you, Nancy.

Colton never made it to Cochrane. We stayed 2 weeks in hospital, 2 weeks at his rental place, then a final 2 weeks in Hospice.

Letter to Colton

Oct 24, 2020

I’ve been procrastinating all day. Yes, I know that you know that I got my chores done early, did the shopping, started the laundry, walked the dogs, everything that I knew had to get done. All done in silence and as if sleepwalking. Thankful that it’s not an expectation that I be sociable as I carry out these tasks, Thankful that I’m wearing a mask, One of fabric, one of grief. I know the front yard needs to be weeded, and the front entryway needs to be painted. Instead, I sit here frozen. My head hurts. I can feel my forehead crumpled as my eyes squint and my brows come together. The pain of losing you, the physical pain is now permanently etched into my face. I see it every day. It’s aged me in a fiercely unfortunate way. Since I’m alone I find myself talking out loud to you, to God, the Source, the Universe, the Angels, to all and anyone listening, to ask to make sure that you’re ok. And that eventually I’ll be ok. And I cry. And cry and tell you how much I miss you. And I let the pain roll down my face for anyone and no one to see. Time keeps marching onwards and here I am because nothing is changing except maybe that I am getting older and sicker and you don’t have to anymore. I’ve made it to my final destination. I’ve made it to the island. It’s so breathtakingly beautiful, and I am fully aware of every sacrifice it took to get here. So I’m making a conscious effort to make the very most of it. I am mindful every day as I look at the water that it is looking back at me and yes, it brings some comfort. Maybe it time, much more time, I can sit here and think of you and not cry so hard. Maybe my chest won’t feel like it’s caving in. Maybe I won’t feel like I’ve been badly beaten. Maybe I’ll have enough energy to get up and get on with my day. I look at your pictures and I can’t breathe. I would not wish this pain on anyone. It is crushing in its weight, and yet it is only I that must carry it around every day. As the wave of grief crests and passes over me, I am thankful all over again that not every day is this bad. Some days, I am thankful that this feels like one of the ‘good’ days….

So hard to understand…

Give me a moment if you can stand it

You need to know that I feel stranded

Tell me what is the boundary,

An acceptable level of misery?

For try as I may I can’t catch my breath

Seemingly unable to accept your death

Just as light starts to shine through the veil

I try and I try but I just seem to fail

I keep being told that it’s ok to cry

That it’ll get easier as the years go by

What they don’t know is that time has stood still

And crying out memory only makes it refill