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.
Monday, June 29, 2009
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.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Beautiful Breakdown
It's been a slow smooth ride for the past few days. Mom can't eat to much because it hurts to swallow and she's sleeping more and more. She given up on putting her teeth in because that hurts too.
The roller coaster has slowed, now we are just coasting, albeit downhill.
As for me, I had an emotional breakdown(away from the eyes of mom). Crying, cranky and crass. I'm glad I did.
I have recently often felt overwhelmed, and there was a nagging urge to get away, take a break. Space. Diversion. Escape.
After my mini-meltdown, things have changed. Being here at home with her gives me a sense of peace. I don't need to get away anymore. I just want to be with her. She watches the Turner Classic Movies (TMC) channel 24 hours a day - literally. I caught myself turning it on in my room while I went to take a nap today. It was soothing to me - reminds me of mom - even though she was in the next room.
Geez, am I in the 'acceptance' stage of grief? The 'denial' one wasn't too bad, but the 'anger' one sucked.
I hope it lasts, when mom does not.
The roller coaster has slowed, now we are just coasting, albeit downhill.
As for me, I had an emotional breakdown(away from the eyes of mom). Crying, cranky and crass. I'm glad I did.
I have recently often felt overwhelmed, and there was a nagging urge to get away, take a break. Space. Diversion. Escape.
After my mini-meltdown, things have changed. Being here at home with her gives me a sense of peace. I don't need to get away anymore. I just want to be with her. She watches the Turner Classic Movies (TMC) channel 24 hours a day - literally. I caught myself turning it on in my room while I went to take a nap today. It was soothing to me - reminds me of mom - even though she was in the next room.
Geez, am I in the 'acceptance' stage of grief? The 'denial' one wasn't too bad, but the 'anger' one sucked.
I hope it lasts, when mom does not.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Numbers Game
Good news, mom is better. I think I am too. How long will it last? Don't know. Today she had two requests:
1. Iced, decaf, latte, venti, vanilla squirt from Starbucks.
2. Beans from El Pollo Loco.
I got her both, including a topper of macaroni and cheese and cole slaw (from El Pollo Loco, not Starbucks).
I asked her today on a scale of one to 10 - one being deathbed, 10 being fabulous - where she was at?
She said she is a nine.
Cool. What a difference from the four she was just days ago. That takes me from a four to a nine as well. OK, maybe an eight. I know a nine for her is not a nine for a healthy person - but a nine is still a nine.
Albeit, a nine today may have been a five three months ago. But a four this week would have been a one two months ago. To confuse you even further, mom usually starts going down past a six when her fever is more than 100-degrees. When it hits 101-degrees, she is a five, and I need to be by her side.
Now, she is under 98-degrees, which elevates her to eight+, depending on how her stomach feels (+ or - two points margin of feeling crappy).
Her stomach feels fine. So, I am happy with a nine.
1. Iced, decaf, latte, venti, vanilla squirt from Starbucks.
2. Beans from El Pollo Loco.
I got her both, including a topper of macaroni and cheese and cole slaw (from El Pollo Loco, not Starbucks).
I asked her today on a scale of one to 10 - one being deathbed, 10 being fabulous - where she was at?
She said she is a nine.
Cool. What a difference from the four she was just days ago. That takes me from a four to a nine as well. OK, maybe an eight. I know a nine for her is not a nine for a healthy person - but a nine is still a nine.
Albeit, a nine today may have been a five three months ago. But a four this week would have been a one two months ago. To confuse you even further, mom usually starts going down past a six when her fever is more than 100-degrees. When it hits 101-degrees, she is a five, and I need to be by her side.
Now, she is under 98-degrees, which elevates her to eight+, depending on how her stomach feels (+ or - two points margin of feeling crappy).
Her stomach feels fine. So, I am happy with a nine.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Oh, Crappy Day
Mom has a fever tonight. She is sleeping about 18 hours a day, and taking enough pills to kill a junkie on Union Avenue. I need to be at home with her now - so I am taking a vacation day off work.My emotions - upside, downside, inside out. Will the next day hold relief? Misery? Where do we go from here? It's like a poker game - you never know the next hand you will be dealt. But in this game - there is no bluffing.
I pulled the Hospice nurse aside tonight - out of ear-shot from mom. Despite the so-called guide to dying "Gone From My Sight"(included in the Hospice welcome pack), there is really no concrete blueprint, no exact step-by-step manual for death. The nurse agreed, it could be tonight, tomorrow. It could be weeks, even months (I doubt the latter).
I have said this before - but I think the end is near, or at least near-er. Obviously, death is closer than it was before.
(Sorry, I'm going to emotional here, but these are my thoughts)I know the day is not far away when I will never see her, touch her, feel her again. Forever. Forever is a very long friggin' time.
Hence, the reality, sadness, utter devastation of the absence in the sole largest part of my life since the day I was born is setting in. She changed my dirty diapers, wiped my snotty nose, fed me, clothed me, cared for me when I was sick, punished me when I was acting like an ass. She encouraged me and believed in me when no one else did.
And (at least we think) her efforts paid off. Thanks mom - I love you.
Since my mom was diagnosed with metastasized colon cancer to the liver, I have had two friends who have lost their loved ones for the same condition. They were diagnosed later than mom, and died much earlier, within several weeks.
I cherish the time I have with her, but it hurts to see her deteriorate like this.
On a positive note - mom's spirits are fine - maybe it's her solid foundation in her spirituality, maybe it the morphine - either way, she is accepting and has found serenity in her fate.
As for me, I got some counseling from Hospice today. Good news, they say I am not 'depressed', but rather going through the first stage of grief. Good - I'm normal. This makes my grief much more manageable.
Mom let me take this picture of her tonight.
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