Watching your parent waste away from an illness is not something anyone can prepare you for. I watched my mother improve until she broke her hip. After that, everything went down like a waterfall. Between the hospital visits, the nursing home visits, she did not improve. When they sent her home, I was only given 24 hours to prepare. My mom kept crying and telling me that she didn't feel well. She went back and forth to the hospital because she was constantly sick. The nursing service that came out at first was great. The doctors kept sending her home, telling me she was stable. However she was not. I finally had to stop being polite and tell them to find out what was wrong with her. I told them that she could not come home until they did more tests to figure out why she was constantly so sick. They finally told us what was wrong, (ischemic colitis) and that it was too far gone for them to do anything about it. They recommended that she be put on hospice, and I took care of that the next day. She went back and forth about several things, like going back to a facility or staying home. She decided that she would stay here. The hospice was great. They were available at all hours of the day and night, and would answer any questions we had. If we needed them to come out, they did as soon as they could.
My mother had to stop dialysis treatments because they were no longer benefiting her. I tried to find answers as to how long it would be before her kidneys shut down. There is no definite answer; it depends on how strong the person was. My mother wasn't as strong as she was. Her pain levels had increased, and she was put on constant pain medication. Slowly she began to lose touch with reality, she lost her sight, her speech, and her ability to absorb nutrition. I began mentally shutting down, as I could not handle watching my mother like this any longer. I would go talk to her, but I will never truly know if she heard me or not. When they told us to stop using the feeding tube, I did not realize that it would be that fast. I knew you could only last so long before you would pass, but she passed the next day.
My son had an assembly at school, which I promised him I wouldn't miss. I went, took pictures, and came home. I brought my fiancee and I breakfast, and we sat and talked in the living room. He had checked on her before I left, and I was only gone for about an hour. I went in her room to tell her about my son's award. As soon as I walked in, I realized something wasn't right. I watched her chest, but there was no movement. I grabbed her hand, and there was no reaction. I put my head on her chest and I felt NOTHING. No breathing, no heartbeat. I immediately went to look for my fiancee, and screamed for him to come back in the house. He ran back and confirmed that she had passed.
I went into reaction mode. I could not think about anything except making the proper phone calls. I called the hospice to have them come out, and I called my sister. My fiancee went across the street to tell our neighbors, whom I have known since I was 6 years old. They came and sat with me until everyone started arriving. I could not go back in there, no matter how much I tried. The RN from hospice arrived, my sister arrived shortly after. The RN gave the time of death and made the proper phone calls. Everything felt surreal. I was walking around, speaking to people, answering questions, but nothing felt the same. I knew she was no longer suffering. I knew that the universe has a better place for her where she will no longer feel any pain.
Why am I telling you this? I am a far better writer than an orator. I needed to get this out so I can try and move on. My mother and I were two very different people. Throughout my life, I tried to make her proud of me. I was her creative child, she would tell me. When I was younger, I always thought it was a bad thing. She never understood they way I did things, and I never understood why she would get so upset about them. We had many falling outs through the years, but she was always there when I needed her. When her health was failing, I would take care of her. She would insist that she would do it herself, but I would have to remind her that she could not. Did she like it? No. As we both grew older, I think we had some semblance of understanding of each other. My therapist reminded me that my mother was set in her ways, and nothing I could do could change that. I knew she was right, but I didn't want to admit that. We both stopped trying to change each other and accepted who we were as people.
I know my mother would want me to be happy. I am quite sure she is happy where she is. I would like to think that she is on some cosmic beach, with her nails and feet done (she religious about getting her hands and feet done), with a bucket of KFC (she kept asking for it), with a order of garlic cheese bread (she wanted that too), with a large diet coke (it was her favorite).
