I remember Mama

Less than two weeks after being diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of lymphoma, she was gone. My mother, one of the strongest individuals I've ever known, could not fight off this final assault on her broken body and passed away peacefully last Friday night at 8:40.

For those who do not know Lee Nichols Upchurch, please allow me to fill you in on some of the details of her life. She was born November 10, 1924, in Durham, NC, the first child of Owen and Sara Nichols. Mama graduated in 1945 from Women's College (now UNC-Greensboro) with an undergrad degree in social work. The following year, she married Silas G. Upchurch, and embarked on a journey around the world, thanks to daddy's career in the Air Force. They lived in Japan, Germany and finally England, where I was adopted. They returned to the States in 1961. Only two years later, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer and died in November 1965 at the young age of 45. My mother, with no marketable skills to speak of and a 5-year-old in tow, moved from Maryland back home to North Carolina and enrolled at Duke University. In 1970, she earned a Master's Degree in Education and started teaching. For most of her 20-year career, Mama taught 7th-grade language arts and social studies in the Durham County Schools. I am still amazed at her incredible will and strength, and the fact that she was able to pull it all together after being widowed so early in life.

Mama's downturn began shortly after retirement. It started with short-term memory problems and forgetting how to get to my apartment. It got really scary when she believed she was being followed, her car and phone were "bugged" and that people were living in her attic. The dementia that seems to affect so many of Mama's family was apparently coming home to roost. In all, we went through 15 years of mental illness and related hospitalizations, and I saw things that scared the hell out of me and made me fear for what her future would be like.

In the summer of 2007, Mama finally had to move into a "memory care" facility because she was so confused about people, places and events. By October, we noticed a rapid decline in her physical health as well. This tough old broad was finally giving out. She entered the hospital in early February after we thought she'd had a stroke. No evidence of stroke was found, but Mama was aspirating when she tried to swallow, so doctors put in a PEG tube and released her two days later for recovery. Three days after that, she was readmitted and that's when blood work revealed the lymphoma-- which hadn't even shown up just the week before. On Monday, February 11, Mama was moved to Hospice Home at High Point. She died there just four days later.

My family and I would like to thank the doctors and nurses at High Point Regional Hospital who took such good care of Mama, especially the ER staff. But a special place in my heart goes to the amazing people at Hospice Home. Their unconditional caring and devotion to what they do is unmatched anywhere. They enabled Mama to regain a lot of the dignity she had lost late in her life and kept her comfortable to the very end. Laura, Martha, Donna, Janice, Rodney, Brenda, Crystal, Sherry, Dr. Nelson, everyone...I cannot thank you enough. You are angels right here on Earth and you are truly doing God's work.

Mama, fly away, be free and I'll see you again someday.

Forget me not

At the same time the news was devastating, yet somehow a relief. Mama has Alzheimer's. We got the official diagnosis a couple of weeks ago after years of dementia and delusions that doctors were at a loss to explain, despite repeated MRIs and CAT scans.

I now realize I have a calling. I will be walking in the Greensboro Memory Walk, a fundraiser for the Alzheimer's Association, on June 2nd. And during this time, I have truly found out who my friends are. Even friends I didn't know I had. After I talked about it on the radio, I suddenly had people wanting to join me on the walk-- people whose lives had also been deeply affected by Alzheimer's. Generous donations are coming in from friends and family.

I have also found out that you might as well laugh as cry when someone you love has this disease. It's the only way to keep your own sanity when that person is slowly being robbed of his or her personality. It truly is an adventure. In the past two months, Mama thinks she has gotten married, saved someone who's been dead for two years from a fire at their home and taken Pat & John on a trip to New York. While the stories are harmless enough and even comical, I wonder how I'll feel the day I walk in and she no longer recognizes me.