Back to work...and then tragedy (Part 2)

After Dad died, Mom was doing pretty well - much better than I thought she would be. She and Dad had been married 42 years, and he had been taking care of her for a long time. She had some bad days, but overall she seemed to be ok. She did call me A LOT; every single day, usually two or three times per day. For the first few weeks, I tried to answer her calls every time, because I knew she was very lonely and missing Dad. But after a while, I just couldn't answer her calls every time. Sometimes she didn't make any sense, and would get so frustrated and just hang up. Mom has had a lot of strokes over the years, which I'm sure has affected her brain. She occasionally would call in the middle of the night, but I usually didn't hear my phone. I finally put my phone on "do not disturb" after 11pm - it was just too much, with me working and with the baby.

We went to see her every weekend, and she loved seeing us - especially the baby. I know that even though this nursing home was really nice, it's still a nursing home - and naturally, she didn't want to be there. But there were no other options, unfortunately. After a few weeks, they put her in a different room with a roommate.  Unfortunately, she and her roomie didn't get along too well; Mom can be very difficult at times, so I'm sure it was somewhat her own fault.  We think Mom had been having some mini-strokes for quite a while, so she would do and say some crazy things from time to time. She didn't walk very well, either, and would get up a lot on her own - without a walker, wheelchair or an aide - so she's fall, too. But other than some bruises and aches, she was ok.

In late September/early October, my aunt (Mom's sister) was down from MN - and we had a great time visiting with her. Mom had called me one day during that time my aunt was here and said something to the effect of "I have this terrible cough, I think I'm dying." I thought that was a bit extreme.  I told her that she probably had just caught a cold or something, as she said she felt perfectly fine. We took everything Mom said with a grain of salt. On Sunday, she must've called me at least 4 times, but I didn't hear my phone, as we were visiting with my aunt for the last time before she went back home. As we were heading home, I finally noticed the missed calls.  I called Mom back and told her that we were on our way to see her now.

The visit with Mom was short - hubby stayed with baby in the car, because we didn't want him catching Mom's cold or whatever she had. I explained this to her when I got there, and clearly she was disappointed. I promised her that he'd be there next weekend to see her, we just didn't want to risk him getting sick.

The following day, the nursing home called to let me know that Mom had fallen (again) but she was fine. If I remember correctly, Mom had tried calling me that day, but I had missed it. It was useless calling her back because she rarely answered. I knew she'd call me again. But she didn't. 

The next afternoon, I was returning from lunch with a friend when the nursing home called again. Not another fall, I thought. They were required to call me every time this happened. Nope. The nurse said that I should get there as soon as I could, that my mom was dying. Excuse me? Then she put the Hospice nurse on the line. I asked for an explanation, and she said that Mom seemed fine that morning, but then suddenly became unresponsive, but was still breathing. Her organs were shutting down, so they were giving her oxygen and Morphine to try to keep her comfortable and prevent any pain. I was in disbelief. What had happened?  I thought it was most likely another stroke.  I remembered what she had said to me about how she thought she was dying. Her older sister had said pretty much the same thing the night before she died, a few months earlier. Did they really know they were dying? 

I rushed upstairs and told my boss what was going on, and that I didn't know when I'd be back. I texted my hubby to let him know, and he called me immediately to see how I was, and if I wanted him to come up to the nursing home. I told him no, there was no sense in that. I tried calling my brother and sister, but neither one answered. I left them both messages to call me ASAP.

When I got to Mom's room, it looked like she was sleeping except that she appeared to be breathing really hard. The Hospice nurse showed up shortly after I got there and gave me a brochure that explained what typically happens to people when they are dying. I just sat next to her bed, held her cool

hand and talked to her. It's believed that your hearing is the last thing to stop working. I cried and told her that we'd be ok, that she could go and be with Daddy. I just kept rubbing her hand and crying, repeating how much I loved her and how I was so glad that she got to meet my baby. I was so scared that she'd have a seizure or something, but she didn't. 

After about two hours, Mom crinkled her face a little, and let out a long breath. Then there was no more breathing. It was surprisingly very peaceful. I ran to get the nurse, to have them check on her. She was really gone.  I am so grateful that I was there for her during those last few hours, so she wasn't alone. I know she was probably very scared.  At least now she wouldn't suffer any more. 

My mom may have been a pain in the neck sometimes, and definitely had her faults, but she was a wonderful mom to me. She did everything she could to make sure that I had whatever I needed, but she didn't spoil me, either. I have such great memories of growing up, and I owe a lot of them to her. I still can't believe my mom is gone! Forever. Who can I talk to about my baby? Who would I call to ask questions that only your mom can answer? There is no one. No one can replace your mom.  

I still cry on and off, even though it's been many months since I lost my parents. It's like it come and goes, without any warning. I know that's probably normal. Other than feeling sometimes like an emotional roller coaster, I feel pretty good. I know how lucky I am, but there are many times that I feel so sad. I'm sure that's part of the grieving process. I imagine that it will get a little easier as more time passes. What upsets me the most is that I thought I would "feel" something. I was very close to my parents, so the fact that I haven't had any "signs" from them unsettles me. Am I just not seeing them, or do they really just not happen? I don't believe 100% in psychics, but I sure would love to give one a try, just to see what they have to say. Now I know what it feels like to want that "closure" or whatever it is.

I'm about to hit a "milestone" in just a few weeks: not only is it a "big" number, but I'll be the same age as my mom was when she had me. I hope with all of the efforts I am making to keep myself healthy, that I won't have the same painful and unhappy last years like she did. Many people question why I do such  goofy things, like eat organic food and buy organic/chemical-free products - "they're SO expensive!" many say.  "We all have to die of something," is another common one. Well, I would personally rather spend my money on organics now than on drugs and chemo later.  It's worth sacrificing for now.  No, we can't prevent everything from happening, but I'm just trying to minimize my toxic exposure as much as possible.  Some of the things we are exposed to, we have zero or very little control of. And there may be only a little bit of this or that in everything, but when you add up all the toxins that we're exposed to on a daily basis - it's pretty significant. My parents were taking dozens of pills every day, and that is becoming the norm.  I do not want to be a part of that norm. 

Anyways...I could go on and on about that subject, but I'll save that for another time, as that's whole other story all by itself.  I will say to those of you out there who chose to read this, and who haven't yet lost a loved one: cherish your family and friends as much as you can, and try to spend as much time with them as you can. You can't get it back once they're gone, and that is a hard pill to swallow. I wanted one last talk, one last visit with them and the baby, etcetera.  Death is so final, it's scary.  Especially when I don't feel that connection that I thought I would feel.  However, I know that my parents knew that I loved them very much. There are so many things I wish I had done differently, but at least that much I know for sure. I can't imagine how much worse I'd feel if I didn't know that.