Me, mom and crazy sis Noel My mom and baby Sarah
I was standing in my shower late this evening, it was a long hot day and I was looking forward to washing off all the grime that had accumulated through the day. To relax in clean PJ's, and search for some songs on Napster.
My body is still healing, moving can still be a bit of a challenge. I feel weak and I have aches and pains. Standing in my shower, leaning against the wall, afraid of slipping, tired and wondering if I would have the energy to finish. The thought of washing my hair, my body, shaving (yes I know, I'm crazy) was overwhelming and that didn't include what I had to do after the shower. Drying off, moisturizing, doing my hair, all my face crap.
I suddenly flashed back to my mother in her final months of life. She was dying of congestive heart failure. I was her daughter who had a year old daughter and husband who had a very hard time dealing with the death concept and me, the immature, angry daughter that now was responsible for taking care of my mother. I was scared, angry, I wasn't ready to lose my mom, I needed her to get me through some more years of my life. I needed her motherly advice.
But, she was dying. She was so weak she could barely take care of herself. She was stubborn and damn it, she'd do it. And, I let her. She had her own apartment in downtown St Paul. She had a few good years of taking advantage of living downtown. The easy access to the arts, music, theater, libraries. The convenience of having everything within walking distance. She loved the city life and lived a few very happy years in the middle of it.
Now it was all she could do to shower, get dressed, walk down a hallway, that now seemed liked miles to the elevator. I would be carrying my daughter, trying to help my mom with support and several stops to rest by the wall. We'd ride the evaluator to the parking ramp. Once she and Sarah were strapped in, we had some time to relax until we got to the Dr.
The whole time I was taking care of my mom I tried to use the Golden Rule to guide me. I would treat her how I would want to be treated, with love and respect. I tried so hard to keep my focus on her. I knew she didn't have much longer and I wanted her to feel safe, to be ready when the time came, not be afraid.
Tonight while I was standing in my shower feeling so weak and a little scared, I flashed to her. She had to have been scared, weak, barely making it from the shower to her bedroom to dress. Her breathing was so labored, her skin was so sensitive to touch, all of her senses seemed magnified. I think it was all she could do not to scream in frustration, I think she did that after I left.
She was so dependant on me for everything. I tried to be there all the time. To have her house, her clothes clean, to make dinners that she could pop in the microwave. Her pills separated in their day compartments. Water close, phone close, remote, check check check, she was good to go for the night. I would hesitantly leave, not knowing what I would come back to the next day.
The final trip to the hospital we both knew she wouldn't be coming home. She was immediately admitted to the UM Hospital where she stayed for 3 weeks. Kidney failure was the final straw and we placed her in a hospice. Every day I was there. There were a few times when she was coherent and would ask for something, scrambled eggs, root beer float. I would sprint out her hospice door to her apartment, make them just the way I knew she liked them and be back as quick as I could. She would take a bite or a sip, lay back, smile a little and that was it. I felt good that I could give her those little bits of happiness.
I had a funny feeling that last day. I knew I had to spend the night with her, I had to make sure she was getting what she needed for her pain and make sure she knew she would never be alone. I remember saying goodbye to Sarah and my husband Joe, I would call them in the morning. I sat by my moms bed for a very long time, she was restless, it appeared that she was in pain. I called the nurse, they were all so compassionate, willing to give whatever we asked without question. Once the morphine took effect my mother immediately relaxed.
I clearly remember wrapping my arms around her, whispering in her ear that it was ok, ok to let go, we were ready and dad could wait any longer, He was already in the place that they both believed so strongly in, heaven. It was time for them to meet up again. I crawled into the lounge chair next to her and listened to her breathe, raspy quick breaths.
The next thing I know the nurse is touching my shoulder. I was so surprised, I fell asleep. I looked over at my mom and commented on how good she seemed to be doing. The nurse smiled and said "she's gone". I hate to admit it, but my first response was thank God! She is finally gone, no more pain, she is at peace. I held her hand and talked to her telling her I was happy, say hi to dad.
For the most part I feel good about how I handled it. However during the entire time I was so angry, angry I had to deal with a dying mother, a baby, a husband that didn't have a clue. I had brothers and sisters that were all older than me. Brother's who didn't do shit, and sisters who did the best they could but I was closest, logistically, it just made sense that I do it all. God I was pissed.
I guess my reason for writing this is for those of you that still have your mom and pops. They don't live forever, they are just regular folks that have made good and bad choices, Hug them, tell them you love them, and if you have to take care of them don't do anything out of anger. Someday we'll be the parent that will have to rely on our offspring to help us. If we are the role models they work from we'll all be very lucky in our autumn years.
Pretty clouds
Eye level view
Ah yes, my fav, iced coffee
