My love affair with Guatemala (part1)

The beginning of a journey that begins with a death

As part of my studies I had to go abroad to do my internship. The planning had been lengthily, and it was soon time to go on this great journey, as I foresaw it would be an adventure as well as a part of my education.

I was due to leave on Saturday the 1. of February 1997 and both my parent and my siblings were anxious about me going, mainly because I'm the baby in the family and because I foolishly had shown them pictures of barefooted children playing in streets of the shantytowns. On the other hand they were also exited for me, because they knew that I was really looking forward to going away again. I had previously stayed in Spain for 6 month attending a semester at the University of Valladolid.

However my mother fell ill in November and was slowly getting worse. She was in tremendous pain all the time, but was never bedridden. She claimed that lying down she couldn't breathe. She went to doctor several times before Christmas, but the doctor said that there was nothing wrong, and she just had a light case of the flue. She basically told to her face, that she was wasting the good doctor's time, and she was a hypochondriac. So my mother resigned in the fact that she was not sick, although she was now so tired that she couldn't prepare all the things she would normally do for Christmas. 

We all came home to celebrate Christmas that year, not knowing that it would be the last Christmas with our mother, and it was a rare situation, since my sisters and my brother usually alternated between their in-laws and being at home.

My mother sat at the end of the table, practically hanging on the edge of the table, because this was the only way, she felt she could breathe. Still commanding how thing were done, and happy doing so. Even though she was in a lot of pain, she was very much present, but incredibly tired.

In January she went to doctor again and this time she asked her directly "Do I have cancer?" and she was told of course not! She couldn't understand that she was in so much pain, and the doctor caved in and awarded her an appointment to see a pain specialist, who unfortunately wasn't able to relieve much of her pain. The diagnosis was now that she had a bad back. We then took contact to the doctor and asked for some tests at the hospital. She was in so much pain that not even the cocktail of drugs she was prescribes helped her in the least bit.

We called the doctor to come for a house call and now the diagnosis was lung flu and she settle for that for a couple of days, but why was it then, that nothing helped? We were worried about our mother and my father was even quieter, than normal. Late one night we had to call in an on-call doctor, and he had access to her file and came and gave her a morphine shot and diagnosed her with pneumonia, and gave her some penicillin.

On her stomach she had what appeared as swollen bruise about 8 inches in diameter, and she was told that it was nothing to worry about; it was just a bruise. 

She made it to the hospital for the test and they send her home again, she had to wait for the results at home, this was on Monday and by Thursday we had gone through yet another diagnosis, this time it was a lung infection. On the Thursday she then received the call from her own doctor, who told her, that the test had shown that if she wasn't admitted in to hospital she would most likely be the dead by the weekend. She was no longer producing oxygen.

My mother was reluctant to go, because I had to leave for Guatemala on Saturday. But we of course told her, that there were no other option and she was rushed of to the hospital, and put on wet oxygen immediately. No one had said anything about cancer so far, and my mother who was so proud of the fact that her baby attended university, told me that I had to go.

At this time I was still sure that my mother would live forever, and I guess I didn't want to comprehend that she was not going to be with us for that much longer. The night before I left I had a talk with my sister, and I remember saying to her "it's not like she going to die", and she said "well, we don't know that, but what if she is, then how would you feel about being that far away."

I felt that I had no choice, if I didn't go, I would loose my internship and a full year in University. So I went so say goodbye to my mother and on Saturday morning I left for Amsterdam. I was sad and upset and I had thought long and hard on the plane taking me there. I also checked my travel insurance, and I realized that if she were to die, I would not be able to go home before she was actually dead.

For some stroke of fate or divine intervention I had a 24 hour lay-over in Amsterdam, it's usually only 4 hours, so I stayed at a friends house. As soon as I got there I telephone my sister Sol, to tell her to go to the hospital and talk to doctors. I wanted to know the situation before I went any further. She called me back two hours later and said that the doctors had told her, that it was best if I didn't go.

I then told her to book a plane ticket home, and I was back in Denmark again Sunday morning. My mother was very happy to see me, all though she probably knew that my being back was bad news. I just said to her that no way was I going on the side on the earth as long as she was in the hospital. She chose not the comment on that, just happy that I was there a long with the rest of the family.

On Thursday she was diagnoses with lung cancer, and was given very little time, a week at the most. The cancer had spread from the lungs to lever and was practically everywhere in her body. The "bruise" she had was in fact a tumour growing from the liver.

She then asked to come home, because if she was going to die anyway, she would rather be in familiar surroundings. We took care of her our selves with the help from the nurses provided by the County. She died on the morning of the 16 of February. Only the last 18 days of her life was she bedridden. I think that my mother was one tough cookie for being a hypochondriac.

We buried her on the 20. The chapel was packed and over a 100 people attended the wake afterward.

Through out the whole process I had been in contact with the organization where I was to work during my internship, and I faxed them to tell them what happened and that I would leave Denmark on the 25 of February as it wouldn't have been in my mother's spirit to stay home. The University has called me to let me know, that if I wanted to stay at home I could. But my mother would've never wanted that.

I landed in Guatemala la Capital and as I stepped out of the plane the heat was hitting me, and I was not even exited to be there. A friend from University who was also staying in the capital came to peak me up, and my first glimpse of Guatemala was from an old unmarked cab, with plastic pasted on instead of a window. I hated it; I thought it was the ugliest place in the world. And I felt no joy, what was I doing there???

Little was I to know....

NB. In an after note, we all changed doctor afterward. We didn't have trust in her anymore. This is not a doctor bashing, I am very satisfied with the doctor I have now. He is kind, understanding and an acting man. He was extremely good to my father until the day he died!

The end of part 1.

Mona S. Svendsen