Mom in high school as the drum majorette
Touched. Buoyed. Loved. Understood.
There aren’t enough words to describe how your comments on Getting Personal made me feel.
For those of you who’ve had a similar experience of losing a loved one, thank you so much for sharing your story.
For those of you who join me in this ridiculously difficult journey right now, God bless you.
I thank you all for giving me a safe haven to share my words and emotions. So much has happened over the past 6 days. No, my mother has not died. Quite the contrary. She has “rallied”.
I put the word in quotation marks because it’s a term hospice uses for end-of-life patients. They “rally” for a time.
“Shocking” doesn’t begin to describe the associated emotions.
From September 19 when she was discharged from the hospital until last weekend she was on a steady decline. It was clear her time was passing and I tried my best to prepare myself, yet still enjoy any moments of interaction with her. There weren’t many. The “comfort” medications knock her out for the most part but having her in no pain is a huge blessing.
Last weekend, however, was hard. No, “hard” doesn’t begin to cover it. Gut wrenching. Early Saturday morning – we’ve been getting up at 5 a.m. for quite some time now – I tried to give her the morning meds. She clenched her lips and shook her head. “NO!”
But Mom, it’s your medicine. It will make you feel better!
“NO! You’re trying to kill me! My own mother is trying to kill me!”
Have you been through this, where they don’t know you? Dear Lord. I simply cannot imagine what people do who have loved ones with Alzheimer’s.
It was just too much, seeing that look in my mother’s eyes as if I were trying to inflict harm. I would say it was the “last straw” except with a terminally ill loved one you never know what lies ahead.
I called my dear friend at 6 in the morning, barely able to mumble out the words that I needed her and she was there in a flash – calming me, calming Mom, giving Mom the meds and basically saving the day.
Of course I put in a call to Hospice and the nurse knew exactly what to do, said this was very common, this “terminal anxiety”, and ordered haloperidol. Sure enough, within an hour of her first dose, Mom was clear-minded, knew who I was, and was totally compliant again.
The rest of the weekend was tough though with a myriad of new ailments – itching all over, a nasty bedsore, and then nausea. Many of her medicines are liquid, but not all.
I’ve learned how to crush pills, mix them as well as the bitter liquids into yogurt just to make them fairly palatable. I’ve learned how to roll her onto her side when I’m alone with her so I can tuck a pillow under one cheek to remove pressure from the bedsore. I’ve learned how placing Sadie, our boston terrier, into bed with Mom will calm her down no matter what.
I’ve learned all this and more, things I hope you never have to learn yourself. But if you find yourself taking care of a loved one, the main thing you will learn is that you can do it and you will get through it. Somehow. I pray you have a friend like I do who can be your advocate, helper, sounding board, and shoulder to cry on.
Anyway the weekend was beyond tough. Monday wasn’t much better. I went to teach aerobics Monday morning, with our friend sitting with Mom, and when I came back Mom was still barely conscious. They have a look, an appearance where they really look more dead than alive. It’s a haunting part of the end of Life.
But you get used to that look, just like every other thing that you can’t believe is now part of your daily routine.
And then . . . just when you think you’re getting a handle on all of it . . . she “rallies”.
As in, she’s alert, she’s sitting upright, she has an appetite . . . yogurt, juice, oatmeal, and coffee! Granted, we’re talking 2-3 teaspoons of each but, still, it was so unbelievably remarkable. She was back. My mother was “back” to life.
We talked. We laughed. She made jokes. She ate. She told me to change the channel. She was . . . Mom.
For 2-1/2 days. Two and a half nearly blissful days.
And of course, on her weekly visit the hospice nurse made a point of taking me outside and telling me nicely, but in no uncertain terms, that this “rally” didn’t change anything. It can happen after certain medications take effect and with anyone terminally ill .
Whatever the reason, I took the nurse’s advice to cherish each moment as the gift that it was . . .
before the parade passes by.
My mother has lived quite a life, full of love and loss, conflict and joy. She’s been recounting many stories to me lately of her childhood and early adulthood. I am hoping to get them written down – possibly here on the blog – so her remarkable life is remembered.
I’ve written these so far, if you’re interested –
An article I wrote about Mom for our local paper.
Her 85th birthday and her step aerobics class.
The amazing “coincidence” of how she met my stepdad
Getting Personal
Colleen
What a powerful writer you are Colleen. I am all welled up over here. I don’t think I can write anything as eloquent as you did… but what a beautiful tribute you are giving your Mom in her final days. I’m sure she’s so proud of the amazing woman she raised. Sending love to you xoxo
“so her remarkable life is remembered.” Your Mom will be remembered, through you, her loving daughter. I wish you a measure of peace as you share these days with your Mom. Thank you for sharing your story and I hope that you feel the love so many of us, your readers/”friends”, are sending you.
:::drying my tears::: Thank you for sharing your sweet story. We went through all of this with both of our parents, except that our dad experienced anger and lashed out. All tough, but a part of life. I wish you peace and lots of wonderful memories. xo
I lost my mom almost four years ago to lung cancer. The last week was very difficult but the meds helped her tolerate the pain. When she took her last breath five of her six children were around her bed, each of us touching whatever arm, leg, foot we could just to have contact with her. I miss her beyond words…..but, she is still alive and with me in my mind and my heart. She will always be with me as your mother will always be with you.
Colleen, Your story brings back soo many memories!! I am crying, laughing and praying with you, Lady!! Hospice is THE very.best. program. in the world!!!!! The nurses are God’s Angels that we can see When my Father was ill, I too, was very lucky to have an Aunt that worked in nursing home for 30 years. She was my Daddy’s Sister and she came to our rescue many times; teaching us how to properly care for him without hurting him or ourselves. So glad you have a support network. Stay strong! You’re an awesome daughter
Colleen, may God be with you and guide you on this final trip for your Mom. I have read each of the stories you wrote honoring your Mother and enjoyed each one. I would have loved to meēt her in person. An amazing lady !!! God’s blessing and love to you both.
Yesterday I was visiting my parents in their senior complex, dad has dementia. Coming back from the courtyard he told me he’s been a bachelor all his life, and that he is 120 something years old.
Sixty eight years of marriage and six children later, it’s very tough to go through this, especially for my mom who cares for him daily.
Your eloquence in sharing this difficult time with your mom is inspiring and truly a beautiful tribute to the wonderful mom she is. Take care of yourself and know you have many people caring for you both. She is leaving you a wonderful legacy that will always reside in your heart and the hearts of all who share this journey through your gift of writing.
Thinking about you! Remember the “rallies” You are not alone. I have been through twice and several friends have also. They are hard.Hugs,xoxo!
I hope the not recognizing you will be short lived. My father was reared by his maternal grandparents so when he had a heart attack no one thought he would recover from and on the one year anniversary of it experienced a stroke that was also unrecoverable he continued to live with us with my mother bearing the bulk of his care for over 13 years. he experienced shower cluster strokes and was not so pleasant to deal with. my father would try to give mom a break but the man that had been his father refused to eat anything on a tray he took to him. with absolutely nothing changed on it mom took it ot him an he ate it and told her he knew my dad was trying to poison him. to say I would rather you did not have to experience anything like this is an understatement. it does hurt whether one knows they are not in their right mind or not.. thank you for saring.
Tears streaming down my face, Colleen. Thank you for sharing this. I know today was so… much and yet I had to come read after seeing your FB post.
I don’t want to go through this but I will in some fashion at some point. My parents will be 70 next year and that means nothing I guess but we just never know when… Thank you for reminding me to not be “too busy” in the now.
Sending big hugs your way.
PS: Your Mom was {is} beautiful, btw.