It has been more than a year since Mom passed away, but holidays always bring up reminders. Fond memories of life at home as a child growing up. Marge was mom and what counted is that mom was always there.
Roles reverse when you become an adult, especially when dementia accelerates to the end. Helping your mother with basic hygiene and repeating answers to the same questions over and over again is very uncomfortable. But mom was always there for me, doing her best to deal with me as an infant and toddler without any support network, husband, or family support. Yet I never saw any flaws, weaknesses or omissions. And I appear to have developed into a "normal" adult.
When mom is gone and Christmas comes around my mind digs up old memories of Christmas. We may not have had much but I had a home and I was loved. It's easy to see those important values when looking back. Unfortunately it's too easy to dwell on the superficial in the here and now. I can't remember the gifts I got as a kid at Christmas time, but I remember feelings of security - life was good, Santa came, we had our apartment and food to eat. Mom made all that possible. How can I ever pay that back as she slipped into dementia in her final years while I am in perfect health?
Life is definitely a cycle from total dependence to independence to total dependence in hospice in the final days. Merry Christmas.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Happy Mother's Day
The first Mother's Day without a mother, since she just passed away in February. So used to at least making a phone call, or better, going out to a restaurant.
Of course my wife is a mother, and so are my daughters. There are mothers everywhere. But we each have only one birth mother, and now she's gone. You wouldn't think a man in his 50s would feel the loss of his mother after living independently since I went into the service as a teenager, but the feeling is there.
Still thankful for all she did raising me. Thanks mom.
Of course my wife is a mother, and so are my daughters. There are mothers everywhere. But we each have only one birth mother, and now she's gone. You wouldn't think a man in his 50s would feel the loss of his mother after living independently since I went into the service as a teenager, but the feeling is there.
Still thankful for all she did raising me. Thanks mom.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Dementia Accelerates at the End
I've written that my mother has already passed from dementia. Cause of death is shown as cardiac arrest, but she didn't have heart trouble. Her brain forgot to tell her heart to pump anymore.
It's amazing how quickly things go at the end of a "demented" life. Here is the actual chronology for my mother.
For the past 9 months she lived in an assisted living facility. On 1/18 I got a call that the facility called a homecare place. After a phone call I learned that mom's doctor recommended to the facility that they contact the homecare company.
1/21 - I met with the representative of the homecare company and learned about hospice, and the fact that mom's doctor had diagnosed "failure to thrive."
1/27 - Mom was moved to the hospice facility by medical carrier. I was told to meet her there. She was a wreck. Deathly afraid and holding on to the bars of her bed with both hands while curled in a fetal position. She had no idea what was going on.
1/29 - I started moving her furniture and belongings from the assisted living place since she would never be going back.
1/30 - I finished moving her things. My daughter came out after a 6 hour drive to spend time with her grandmother and me at the hospice.
1/31 - Time together with mom at hospice. Daughter had to go back home to take care of her daughter.
2/1, 2/2, 2/3 - I stopped at the hospice for a few hours every night after work. I was never comfortable about leaving because I couldn't know if that would be the last time I'd see her alive.
2/4 - 10:30 AM - Doctor at the hospice called me at work. Said mom "looks different today. I think it's only a matter of hours." I immediately went there.
2/5 - As I fitfully tried to sleep in the recliner by my mother's bed, I woke up at 1:45 because her noisy breathing had stopped. As I wrote earlier, the nurse confirmed shortly thereafter that she "was gone." I sat by her bed for the next hour and a quarter talking to my mother's body, assuming her soul was already off to a better place. While still on her bed, I kissed her on the forehead, said goodbye, and went home.
More to follow...
It's amazing how quickly things go at the end of a "demented" life. Here is the actual chronology for my mother.
For the past 9 months she lived in an assisted living facility. On 1/18 I got a call that the facility called a homecare place. After a phone call I learned that mom's doctor recommended to the facility that they contact the homecare company.
1/21 - I met with the representative of the homecare company and learned about hospice, and the fact that mom's doctor had diagnosed "failure to thrive."
1/27 - Mom was moved to the hospice facility by medical carrier. I was told to meet her there. She was a wreck. Deathly afraid and holding on to the bars of her bed with both hands while curled in a fetal position. She had no idea what was going on.
1/29 - I started moving her furniture and belongings from the assisted living place since she would never be going back.
1/30 - I finished moving her things. My daughter came out after a 6 hour drive to spend time with her grandmother and me at the hospice.
1/31 - Time together with mom at hospice. Daughter had to go back home to take care of her daughter.
2/1, 2/2, 2/3 - I stopped at the hospice for a few hours every night after work. I was never comfortable about leaving because I couldn't know if that would be the last time I'd see her alive.
2/4 - 10:30 AM - Doctor at the hospice called me at work. Said mom "looks different today. I think it's only a matter of hours." I immediately went there.
2/5 - As I fitfully tried to sleep in the recliner by my mother's bed, I woke up at 1:45 because her noisy breathing had stopped. As I wrote earlier, the nurse confirmed shortly thereafter that she "was gone." I sat by her bed for the next hour and a quarter talking to my mother's body, assuming her soul was already off to a better place. While still on her bed, I kissed her on the forehead, said goodbye, and went home.
More to follow...
Friday, February 05, 2010
May she rest in peace
My mother's battle with dementia ended early this morning at 1:45 in the bed she had not left during the week she was in hospice. Fortunately I was there, fitfully trying to sleep in a recliner next to her bed. Her days in hospice were not easy for her.
The goal of hospice is to alleviate pain while the patient succumbs to her disease. They did that well, resorting to morphine injections every 3 hours the last day. Despite the pain relief, and probably due to the dementia, she moaned at each exhalation. In fact, it was the break in that rhythmic pattern of moaning that awoke me.
I listened for a few seconds because there had been short periods of apnea in the past, but this time breathing wasn't restarting. I reached over to touch her face and it was cool. I pushed the call button and a nurse arrived within 15 seconds with stethoscope in hand. She heard a faint heartbeat.
I stroked Mom's hair as we both looked at her and at the next check, the heartbeat had stopped. The nurse closed Mom's eyes and that was that.
I'll write more in coming days about the whole dementia experience. It helps me, and hopefully it will help others going through a similar process. One thing I can say for sure - no matter how much you prepare, actually going through it is not easy.
At least now she no longer has any pain or confusion...
The goal of hospice is to alleviate pain while the patient succumbs to her disease. They did that well, resorting to morphine injections every 3 hours the last day. Despite the pain relief, and probably due to the dementia, she moaned at each exhalation. In fact, it was the break in that rhythmic pattern of moaning that awoke me.
I listened for a few seconds because there had been short periods of apnea in the past, but this time breathing wasn't restarting. I reached over to touch her face and it was cool. I pushed the call button and a nurse arrived within 15 seconds with stethoscope in hand. She heard a faint heartbeat.
I stroked Mom's hair as we both looked at her and at the next check, the heartbeat had stopped. The nurse closed Mom's eyes and that was that.
I'll write more in coming days about the whole dementia experience. It helps me, and hopefully it will help others going through a similar process. One thing I can say for sure - no matter how much you prepare, actually going through it is not easy.
At least now she no longer has any pain or confusion...
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Hospice and Dementia - Heading to the Exit
I write this in hospice with my mother who has hours to live. Her dementia has gotten to the point that all things are winding down and the end is in sight. It has not been a pleasant process. My fiercely independent mother is now incontinent and totally dependent on others simply to change position in bed. There is no interest in eating, that started quite a while ago. She can no longer speak.
I studied what I could about dementia so I knew what was coming. But when it's your mother lying there gasping and quivering, it is almost painful to watch. Her hands are warm even though they are bonier than they were before when they were always ice cold. We can tell she knows we are here.
My mother spent most her life without any prescription drugs. At 80 she had no prescriptions. Now, in the past several months she is on so many things that I can't keep track. Thank God for Medicaid.
In the coming weeks once this ordeal is over I will go back and write more about the experience.
May she rest in peace -- soon.
I studied what I could about dementia so I knew what was coming. But when it's your mother lying there gasping and quivering, it is almost painful to watch. Her hands are warm even though they are bonier than they were before when they were always ice cold. We can tell she knows we are here.
My mother spent most her life without any prescription drugs. At 80 she had no prescriptions. Now, in the past several months she is on so many things that I can't keep track. Thank God for Medicaid.
In the coming weeks once this ordeal is over I will go back and write more about the experience.
May she rest in peace -- soon.
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