Sorry, I can't blog about mom anymore. I am trying to get over the sadness and it doesn't help anymore. I really miss my mom. I had them take the blog off our station website.
Anyway,I am just writing this to the 16 people or so that have been following me.
Thanks for everything. My writing and your responses really did help.
Emily
PS - My email is emmycatmoore@gmail.com if anyone needs to reach me.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Lying in Wait
Mom is still here... in body at least. She has spent the last five days or so in a semi-comatose state.
She was completely unresponsive for about 28 hours. She could not be awakened. Then, she briefly woke up, albeit mentally still in another world. One time she was talking to her deceased mother. Another time she was quietly mumbling about jury duty. I think they would give her a pass. Other than that she sleeps, and she hasn't mumbled anything in more than day.
Since she is a 'do not resuscitate', there is no feeding tube, no ventilator, and she started refusing her oxygen about two weeks ago when she was still mentally here.
I drop her pain meds in her mouth every few hours, put on her Chapstick, and keep her mouth moist with a sponge. That's it.
I have made peace with her dying. I don't want to sound harsh, but now I am looking forward to her passing. If you were here you would understand.
Mom... Brenda... is really no longer with us. This is not life, this is not death. It is limbo. It is time to pick one or the other, and the former is no longer an option.
She doesn't seem to be in pain. I don't think she can really sense much of anything now.
It's time to go.
Thank you to everyone who has contacted me about your personal experiences with the death of a loved one. Your support has truly helped.
I debated about posting the latest photo of her, but since mom has allowed me to take photos of her and post them in this blog during her journey, I truly believe she would give me verbal permission to post this one as well... if she could. Why? Because this is what cancer can look like, and this is part of her journey.
However, I wanted you to see what mom normally looked like during her life, so I posted a photo of her in nursing school in her 20s, and one taken late last year after her surgery to remove the colon tumor.
Such a beautiful woman.
(2nd photo credit: Henry Barrios for San Joaquin Community Hospital)
She was completely unresponsive for about 28 hours. She could not be awakened. Then, she briefly woke up, albeit mentally still in another world. One time she was talking to her deceased mother. Another time she was quietly mumbling about jury duty. I think they would give her a pass. Other than that she sleeps, and she hasn't mumbled anything in more than day.
Since she is a 'do not resuscitate', there is no feeding tube, no ventilator, and she started refusing her oxygen about two weeks ago when she was still mentally here.
I drop her pain meds in her mouth every few hours, put on her Chapstick, and keep her mouth moist with a sponge. That's it.
I have made peace with her dying. I don't want to sound harsh, but now I am looking forward to her passing. If you were here you would understand.
Mom... Brenda... is really no longer with us. This is not life, this is not death. It is limbo. It is time to pick one or the other, and the former is no longer an option.
She doesn't seem to be in pain. I don't think she can really sense much of anything now.
It's time to go.
Thank you to everyone who has contacted me about your personal experiences with the death of a loved one. Your support has truly helped.
I debated about posting the latest photo of her, but since mom has allowed me to take photos of her and post them in this blog during her journey, I truly believe she would give me verbal permission to post this one as well... if she could. Why? Because this is what cancer can look like, and this is part of her journey.
However, I wanted you to see what mom normally looked like during her life, so I posted a photo of her in nursing school in her 20s, and one taken late last year after her surgery to remove the colon tumor.
Such a beautiful woman.
(2nd photo credit: Henry Barrios for San Joaquin Community Hospital)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Ready
My brother Adam is coming out from Washington, D.C. today. This means she will have seen all of her children shortly before she dies.
The Hospice nurse visited today. Mom is hallucinating, sometimes anxious, but mostly near comatose.
I told the nurse outside that I was ready for mom to go. This is no life for her. She is suffering. She said I needed to tell mom this because she thinks mom may be hanging on out of worry for me.
So I did.
A few minutes ago I pulled up a chair next to her and said I needed to tell her something.
"I'm OK with you dying," I said. "I'll be fine."
I told her not to hang on for my sake, and I know the time is soon.
"I know," she said, still holding my hand.
I tried to fight back the tears, because I don't want her to see me sad. I didn't do such a great job - but I maintained.
"This isn't living," she said.
"I know," I said. "But, I will see you again someday."
I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her.
She said she loved me too... and she is ready.
The Hospice nurse visited today. Mom is hallucinating, sometimes anxious, but mostly near comatose.
I told the nurse outside that I was ready for mom to go. This is no life for her. She is suffering. She said I needed to tell mom this because she thinks mom may be hanging on out of worry for me.
So I did.
A few minutes ago I pulled up a chair next to her and said I needed to tell her something.
"I'm OK with you dying," I said. "I'll be fine."
I told her not to hang on for my sake, and I know the time is soon.
"I know," she said, still holding my hand.
I tried to fight back the tears, because I don't want her to see me sad. I didn't do such a great job - but I maintained.
"This isn't living," she said.
"I know," I said. "But, I will see you again someday."
I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her.
She said she loved me too... and she is ready.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I Don't Even Know What To Call This One
I last blogged last Tuesday - Wednesday mom crashed. Bad. In 24 hours she went from walking on her walker, to wheelchair bound, to bedridden.
Thursday morning I called the nurse, family and close friends to say I thought the end was within days. She was pale and clammy, had shallow breaths, was not eating, could barely talk and did not have the strength to even sit up.
She was fading, I was a mess. She could not swallow pills and I had to put drops of her pain medication in her mouth. The Hospice nurse came over and took her vitals and said it was time to prepare myself for the end, though mom was not 'actively' dying at that moment. A chaplain called. Some close friends stayed with me throughout the day.. I could not have done it alone - Thank you Robert, Randy & Elaina.
The Hospice nurse suggested a diaper or catheter (she already has a colostomy bag for the other). I wanted her to go with dignity, I said she wouldn't want them. She was able to tell Randy she didn't want them either. She was taking a medication to relieve edema (swelling in the legs) and it makes her pee. The nurse said stop taking it. We did.
Friday came, and she was still bedridden, but a bit more 'with it'. She was not in much pain, just tired. Very tired. We had to lift her in and out of bed to put her on the commode to pee. Mom is 120+ pounds, so it is a two person job when she can't bear any of her own weight.
I don't know what happened Saturday, but she got a burst of energy. She could sit up, wanted to eat (albeit just a few bites here and there), and wanted to be wheeled outside to smoke. I don't have children of my own, but now I understand what it may be like to have a newborn child. A really big one. That smokes. Her legs were really swollen, and she wanted to take her edema medication. She was able to swallow pills again, so she did. (Remember, it makes you pee. A lot.)
Sunday was much of the same, she was bed-bound, but stable. I was running around and unstable. Luckily, my husband was here, and on Sunday he took care of mom's failing health and my failing emotions. I hurt my back with all of the lifting. Hubby was the lifter Sunday. He also lifted my spirits. Thanks Francis.
On Monday we knew there had to be a change. I could no longer pick her up so many times throughout the day to put her on the toilet. It was hard on her, and hard on me. By this time she could stand on her own for a few wobbly seconds, but it was getting her up and down. So, we revisited the catheter option. Mom agreed, it was time. She says it makes her feel like she has to pee all the time, but it is not that uncomfortable. This morning she said she was glad she did it. She is getting more rest now.
I took a few days off during this time and went back to work today. I did the morning show, and came home for the changing of the caretaker so Francis could go to work. I had not been outside of the house, not counting the porch, in six days. It was good to be out.
I will end this here without a snappy ending because there is no ending.
But I have realized what if really feels like to think the end is here for someone you love and is suffering, and sometimes a catheter is necessary. Yeah.
Thursday morning I called the nurse, family and close friends to say I thought the end was within days. She was pale and clammy, had shallow breaths, was not eating, could barely talk and did not have the strength to even sit up.
She was fading, I was a mess. She could not swallow pills and I had to put drops of her pain medication in her mouth. The Hospice nurse came over and took her vitals and said it was time to prepare myself for the end, though mom was not 'actively' dying at that moment. A chaplain called. Some close friends stayed with me throughout the day.. I could not have done it alone - Thank you Robert, Randy & Elaina.
The Hospice nurse suggested a diaper or catheter (she already has a colostomy bag for the other). I wanted her to go with dignity, I said she wouldn't want them. She was able to tell Randy she didn't want them either. She was taking a medication to relieve edema (swelling in the legs) and it makes her pee. The nurse said stop taking it. We did.
Friday came, and she was still bedridden, but a bit more 'with it'. She was not in much pain, just tired. Very tired. We had to lift her in and out of bed to put her on the commode to pee. Mom is 120+ pounds, so it is a two person job when she can't bear any of her own weight.
I don't know what happened Saturday, but she got a burst of energy. She could sit up, wanted to eat (albeit just a few bites here and there), and wanted to be wheeled outside to smoke. I don't have children of my own, but now I understand what it may be like to have a newborn child. A really big one. That smokes. Her legs were really swollen, and she wanted to take her edema medication. She was able to swallow pills again, so she did. (Remember, it makes you pee. A lot.)
Sunday was much of the same, she was bed-bound, but stable. I was running around and unstable. Luckily, my husband was here, and on Sunday he took care of mom's failing health and my failing emotions. I hurt my back with all of the lifting. Hubby was the lifter Sunday. He also lifted my spirits. Thanks Francis.
On Monday we knew there had to be a change. I could no longer pick her up so many times throughout the day to put her on the toilet. It was hard on her, and hard on me. By this time she could stand on her own for a few wobbly seconds, but it was getting her up and down. So, we revisited the catheter option. Mom agreed, it was time. She says it makes her feel like she has to pee all the time, but it is not that uncomfortable. This morning she said she was glad she did it. She is getting more rest now.
I took a few days off during this time and went back to work today. I did the morning show, and came home for the changing of the caretaker so Francis could go to work. I had not been outside of the house, not counting the porch, in six days. It was good to be out.
I will end this here without a snappy ending because there is no ending.
But I have realized what if really feels like to think the end is here for someone you love and is suffering, and sometimes a catheter is necessary. Yeah.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Dazed and Confused
Mom's body is fading, but her mind has been sharp, up until today.
We had her first 'confusion' episode. It happened this afternoon.
I was laying down because I had a blasting headache. I heard the clink, roll, clink, roll sound of mom's walker, but didn't think much about it. My husband happened to come home just then. He came into the room and woke me up out of my half-sleep.
"Your mom is confused and walking in circles," he said.
Since she hasn't shown any signs of confusion before, I thought he was the one who was confused.
"She's fine, I'm sure. Besides, she could use the exercise," I said.
Yeah. Bad, bad daughter.
I later found out that Francis went back out and guided her back to reality, and the couch. Good, good son-in-law.
Tonight she told me she wasn't afraid, she knew she was confused and it was just annoying. Where is it coming from? Liver/colon cancer isn't supposed to do this. It kills the body, not the mind. This confuses me.
Now I will keep a closer ear out for aimless walker sounds, and keep a closer eye on her mental state.
Oh yeah, and I'll try to be a better daughter.
We had her first 'confusion' episode. It happened this afternoon.
I was laying down because I had a blasting headache. I heard the clink, roll, clink, roll sound of mom's walker, but didn't think much about it. My husband happened to come home just then. He came into the room and woke me up out of my half-sleep.
"Your mom is confused and walking in circles," he said.
Since she hasn't shown any signs of confusion before, I thought he was the one who was confused.
"She's fine, I'm sure. Besides, she could use the exercise," I said.
Yeah. Bad, bad daughter.
I later found out that Francis went back out and guided her back to reality, and the couch. Good, good son-in-law.
Tonight she told me she wasn't afraid, she knew she was confused and it was just annoying. Where is it coming from? Liver/colon cancer isn't supposed to do this. It kills the body, not the mind. This confuses me.
Now I will keep a closer ear out for aimless walker sounds, and keep a closer eye on her mental state.
Oh yeah, and I'll try to be a better daughter.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Mom's Poker Face
I hate to say mom isn't doing well again, but she's not. This time it's a bit different.
She doesn't have a fever. There was no fall. She's just going down.
I give her a few weeks. She gives herself that as well.
She is having bad pains in her side, and her side is hard as a rock.
On a lighter note, my sister came out from Washington, D.C. and stayed for a few days this past weekend. On Saturday night we set up a poker game. To our surprise, mom wanted to play to. My sister had never played Texas Hold'em, and can't bluff worth crap. My husband thinks he can, but really can't. I underestimated mom.
She can't eat, can barely stay awake, but damn can that woman play poker! She bluffed her way into the lead, raising $1000 in chips in a game with a $20 buy in!
Talk about a poker face. Maybe it was years of experience. Maybe it was the morphine.
Either way, she was good. She didn't want to play for long. That was probably a good thing for us rookies.
OK, back to the sad stuff. Mom cut back on her pain meds because she thought they were making her constantly tired and giving her a lump in her throat. When the meds were down, she was still tired, had the lump, but the pain came back - so I told her to take more again.
Last night she said, "I'm sick of being sick."
This morning she told me, "I hope this is over soon, I don't want to feel like this anymore."
I don't want her feel like that anymore either.
She says she is still not depressed or anxious, and ready to go.
I believe her, despite her poker face.
She doesn't have a fever. There was no fall. She's just going down.
I give her a few weeks. She gives herself that as well.
She is having bad pains in her side, and her side is hard as a rock.
On a lighter note, my sister came out from Washington, D.C. and stayed for a few days this past weekend. On Saturday night we set up a poker game. To our surprise, mom wanted to play to. My sister had never played Texas Hold'em, and can't bluff worth crap. My husband thinks he can, but really can't. I underestimated mom.
She can't eat, can barely stay awake, but damn can that woman play poker! She bluffed her way into the lead, raising $1000 in chips in a game with a $20 buy in!
Talk about a poker face. Maybe it was years of experience. Maybe it was the morphine.
Either way, she was good. She didn't want to play for long. That was probably a good thing for us rookies.
OK, back to the sad stuff. Mom cut back on her pain meds because she thought they were making her constantly tired and giving her a lump in her throat. When the meds were down, she was still tired, had the lump, but the pain came back - so I told her to take more again.
Last night she said, "I'm sick of being sick."
This morning she told me, "I hope this is over soon, I don't want to feel like this anymore."
I don't want her feel like that anymore either.
She says she is still not depressed or anxious, and ready to go.
I believe her, despite her poker face.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
