Once again, my mom defied the odds as she always had in life, and even though we couldn’t celebrate with her, it felt good to know she wasn’t so far away from us.īut the celebrations were short-lived. Courtesy Pamela Brownįinally, around 5 a.m., the doctor texted to say they found the bleeding and Mom was stable. Pamela Brown, left, and her mother, Phyllis George, in an undated photo. She is my only mother in life, and how dare this virus keep me from her during this critical time? The entire time I kept thinking: Covid-19 may be invisible but I’ve never felt like I’ve ever had a bigger enemy to fight. Just staring at the phone endlessly waiting for news. It felt like a form of torture not being by our beloved mom’s side and having no idea what was going on. My brother and I stayed overnight in the car right outside the hospital, wide awake until the sun came up, waiting for news while my friend stayed overnight with my baby at home. The doctors told us over the phone they had done all they could. Hours later, our worst nightmare came true: Her blood pressure plummeted from an internal bleed doctors couldn’t locate. As Lincoln wheeled her into the hospital to hand her off to the medical professionals, I reminded her how tenacious she was and how much we loved her.

She made it no secret how much she wanted me and my brother by her side, but her courage to go in alone was admirable. Weeks later, we dropped her off at the hospital for her procedure. Pamela Brown, Lincoln Brown and Phyllis George Courtesy Lincoln Brown It upset her not have her children around more – one day she said through tears, “You guys are who I live for and I feel like I can’t even be with you.” Limiting the amount of time we spent with her felt emotionally agonizing – my heart wanted me to be with her every second I could, but my mind knew I needed to follow the doctor’s orders and focus on the necessities. I wanted to stay overnight to help her feel safe but we were too scared about the risk.

When we finally arrived, she saw her granddaughter for the first time from afar – but never got to hold her. The doctor warned us she was one of his most vulnerable patients and every caution should be taken to make sure she didn’t contract it. It was an odd and terrifying experience as my brother and I tried to navigate taking care of our mother while also making sure we didn’t give her Covid-19. Little did I know then that I wouldn’t be back home for three months. Next thing I knew, my older brother Lincoln, my newborn and I were loaded up in the car on our way to Kentucky to help Mom while my husband and young son stayed behind in Virginia. Around the same time, after just giving birth to my second child, we found out Mom’s caregiver chose to go into quarantine indefinitely because her husband was still going into work. In March, the doctors made clear the time had come for a critical procedure we hoped might extend mom’s life. Phyllis George's children reflect on her trailblazing life It was very hard for me to reconcile the fact my mom who was a dynamo in every sense of the word lived for decades with a blood condition that slowed her down so much, especially these last several years. One of my most distinct memories of her growing up was how she would lie in the bed backwards with her swollen feet propped up after a long day to help with her blood flow. She thought it was just the stress of the job, but after throwing up in the tulips in front of our home, she got checked out and 35 years ago, the official diagnosis came: polycythemia vera – a rare blood cancer that makes your blood too thick.

She was under crushing scrutiny with god awful hours and it didn’t take long for the headaches and dizzy spells to kick in. My mom, Phyllis George, was anchoring CBS morning news, flying back and forth on the weekends from New York to Kentucky where my brother and I lived. And she talked about not being able to plan a proper funeral – after all, it was a funeral where she suspects he caught the virus in the first place.Īll of that suffering so closely paralleled my own pandemic experience, although my mother’s story begins long before the pandemic. She described the family members going in one at a time to say a final goodbye. Since she was prohibited from being by his bedside in person, she had to give her consent over the phone for her father to be intubated. Hina described her feeling of helplessness as he lay in his ICU bed alone, telling her over FaceTime how scared he felt. Hina and I both lost one of our parents this year under different circumstances, but we also shared the compounding pain Covid has created.

Pamela brown rita glavin