My mom has always been the backbone of our family. From as far back as I can remember, she always made sure my dad and I were taken care of. We had home-cooked meals and clean sheets to lay on every night and clean clothes to wear every day. She did this while working 40+ hours a week to ensure bills were paid early so they’d never be late. After working for nearly 50 years, she finally retired in December 2019. It killed her to retire, but we knew it was getting tough on her. That’s also when we started to see changes in her mental status. She’d forget little things here and there, but we chalked that up to getting older... until we couldn’t anymore. My mom was always independent; she never liked anyone doing anything for her that she couldn’t do herself. Last year, that independence became a memory. She was paying bills late and forgetting to pay them entirely. Sometimes she didn’t remember me. In late November 2024, she stopped getting out of bed, complaining of her hip hurting. She also stopped eating for a few days. After an ER and doctor visit follow-up, she was back moving around again and eating her chicken salad.

Fast forward to the beginning of 2025. She stopped getting out of bed again. She stopped eating, stopped drinking, and started having bladder/bowel accidents in bed. With the help of a wonderful EMT, she allowed them to take her back to the hospital. It was that day our world was completely obliterated. We knew she had Alzheimer’s (or at least suspected it) so that confirmation wasn’t surprising. It was the doctor telling us that my mother, the one who raised me, the lady that I’ve always known and could always turn to if I ever needed anything from a simple fix-it recipe to life-changing advice, not only has lung cancer but pancreatic cancer as well, and that we have 6 months left with her, if we’re lucky. This wasn’t something we were expecting. She’s always been invincible, never sick a day in her life that we can remember. How can we only have 6 months left with her?

This news not only puts a physical, mental, and emotional toll on my dad and me, but it puts a major financial toll on my dad. They’ve been making ends meet from their social security checks each month, and mom’s health insurance is helping pay her medical bills while in the hospital. But she’ll be coming home on hospice, to go peacefully at home like she’s always talked about. Unfortunately, her health insurance will only pay for a nurse to come out once a week and we need someone there at least 3 times a day. While mentally and physically I could handle making sure she’s clean and comfortable, hearing my mom scream from being touched will do something to me emotionally that I don’t think I’d ever recover from. Both Mom and my Dad raised me to never ask for a handout; if you can’t do or get it yourself, you don’t need it. But my dad needs help in ensuring my mom gets the care she needs for her final months of life, however long that may be. They’ve given me and their grandkids everything they possibly can in our entire lives; the least I can do is try to make them financially comfortable while we navigate this final chapter together. Any help that we can get we’ll be eternally grateful for.