Life...Interrupted

As I was working on the prior post, I noticed a change in Mom's breathing.  It happened so quickly, and then it was also slow motion.  I'll save you the description except to say, it's so much different when it's someone you love struggling during those last breaths.  Your chest hurts because you want to breathe for them and your throat constricts because you're feeling their lack of air.  And all of the sudden...you can hear the air escape in a long fluid push and then silence.  I put my hand on her chest  and her heart wasn't struggling like it used to.  I shook her.."Mom, mom wake up".  But she didn't.  I knew but all the thoughts race through your head. A million thoughts race through your head and you struggle to grab onto just one. The one I finally grabbed was, call a nurse. So I did.

The nurse called the doctor, and as I waited for them to call the time of death, I called the Man. I told him Mom was gone and I apologized that I didn't call him sooner so he could be with her. But truthfully, there just wasn't time. I'm not sure she wanted to die with just me with her, but she did know that I would take care of her. The doctor called the time of death as 12:30 a.m., but she really did leave at Midnight.

While I was sitting with her, waiting, every so often she would expel air, and I would think that I was wrong and that she was still alive...even though I knew she wasn't.  The Man arrived and we sat with her till about 2 a.m. Signed papers, gathered her belongings, gave a final kiss and left. Even now I think it is a quiet exit for a woman that lived such a large life.

The Decision

So the doctor visited us this morning and basically said that Mom would not be going home. The carbon dioxide levels in her blood are high, etc.  The doctor said to give it one more day then, if the results are the same to opt for "Comfort Care".  After discussion between the three of us, we opted for "Comfort Care" and decided to start immediately.

CC is when they stop all the prescriptions, etc and basically make sure Mom is comfortable for the time she has left.  She's on a morphine drip and is no longer moaning, tossing, etc.  She's comfortable and sleeping.  It's weird being confronted with the decision, and although you know it's the right one, there's always someones eyes that make you re-think it.  A family friend came today and Dad had me explain the decision and to make sure she understood that Mom is dying. The friend kept saying things like, "she'll get better", etc. When talking to Mom, she'd say, "Open your eyes.  Who am I? Recognize me. You're going to get better, etc." It was like laying on a bunch of guilt

What Do You Do?

When modern medicine only prolongs someones agony and doesn't allow them to die peacefully? Mom needs to go home. She's not happy here. She doesn't sleep at night, moans, groans, talks incoherently and pulls at everything. What I feared is coming to pass.

I've already managed to piss her off, and now she says that she never imagined that I could be so sneaky. She had a death grip on both of my hands and was begging me for water. I had to losen her hands so I could pour fresh cold water from the pitcher into the cup. As I'm losening her hands she's fighting me saying that I'm going to leave. I assure her I'm not...but it becomes a struggle. Do I losen her hands and ignore the water plea? Water wins out as it's so vital for her, but prying her hands lose has pissed her off. And so it goes, all night long.

For the second nite in a row, they want to give her Ambien to sleep when the doctor clearly said that it wasn't good for her age and condition. The first night he admitted he forgot to change the order. What's the excuse for the second nite? I don't know. I'm thankful that I did a stint as a CNA as it's helped me to turn her in bed and change sheets, etc. All the old tricks come back. But I gotta tell ya 6 days have taken it's toll on me. 5 of those nights have been mine, only one of the five shared. I bit the head off the lady at the card store when I purchased fathers day cards the Dad and Norm. Part of it was stress and the other resentment that I was doing this and no one from his side of the family...including him, wished me a happy mothers day. I gotta suck it up and get over it, but with all the events of the past 7 months, it's been hard to do.

Back to work... Mom's trying to escape from her gown, yet again.
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The Art of Dying

It's 5 a.m. and it's been another long, restless night for Mom Trafton. In a hospital chock full of doctors and nurses, state of the art equipment, round the clock care and a willing daughter, there's nothing to stave off the long arduous process of dying.

Although it's different for everyone, for Mom it means a lot of moaning, groaning, aches, pains and irritations. It means not eating or drinking and generally, checking out of the daily process. It also means precious moments of clarity, a smidgen of laughter and tons of feeling hopeless.

As I was trying to find mom a comfortable spot and asking her for the umteenth time "Mom, where does it hurt?" she looks into my eyes sweetly and says "Me". Although I smile back at her, I know that I can't help her if all of her hurts. Am I even helping at all? She's snoozing now and believe it or not, the skill you learn as a parent kicks in... You know, when your baby sleeps, you sleep"...so I'm gonna catch me a few moments while I can, but even with that comes guilt, because you know you're gonna sleep thru the moment when she wakes up and starts tearing everything off of her, monitor connections, wrist bands, oxygen, clothes and the nurses will come in and you feel like the worst daughter in the world cuz you didn't stop her in time.


Sent from Diz's iPhone