I've been away from the blog for a long time, mainly because, like many other bloggers, I just ran out of steam, or ideas, or something, I thought. I used to be all fired up about writing here and really enjoyed sharing ideas and reflections. And then I just stopped back in August.
I hadn't realized I'd been away for so long, but then when I see August was the last date, I realize why: that was the last time I visited my mom where things were pretty much the same as usual. I didn't go back up there for a couple of months, but when I did, her decline had started in earnest, and my monthly trips to the Portland area apparently took all the mental energy I had left.
That, and the weather. GAH.
After those monthly visits to check on a health condition that wasn't improving for my mom, and after making some very tough healthcare decisions for her, I got a call in mid-February that she was not responsive. I flew up the next day, expecting to say goodbye to her very soon.
When I got there, she was out of it, but by golly if she didn't rally for a few days when she knew I was there. On the last day of her life, I spent all morning with her, making sure she had adequate pain medication.
"We give it to her when she asks for it," staff told me.
"But," I replied, "if you don't go in there to hear her crying out, how do you know she NEEDS it and is asking for it?"
["Terms of Endearment" kept going through my head, and I thought to myself, "I'm fixin' to go all Shirley MacLaine on y'all if you don't get going here." But then, they probably wouldn't have known what I was walking about.]
"What ELSE you got for her pain?"
Mom was finally not feeling any pain and even got some appetite back. In fact, she ate a great breakfast and was her usual coffee connoisseur self, complaining, "This coffee's no good. It's COLD." (Ha, the thickener didn't bother her but the temperature did!) The microwave fixed the sludge-thick coffee and she finished the whole darn 12 oz cup.
A little later in the morning she repeatedly said, "Come up! Come up!" Over and over. I asked her who was telling her to come up, but she didn't reply, just repeated, "Come up! Come up!" Hmmmm.
Around 11 am I left her so that she could have her dressings changed and so that she and I could both get some rest. That was the last time I saw her awake.
I came back around 3 pm and she was zonked out. Staff said she had been 'non-responsive' again. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I said I'd come back later. I got a call around 6:30 that her breathing had changed, so I went back to the nursing facility and spent the next 5 hours with her, watching my mom's life come to a slow and peaceful close.
I imagine she was in labor with me for longer than I was watched her go, so I figure I owed her.
And I wanted to be there.
When I got there and saw her, I knew she was all but gone. Her breathing was pretty much on auto-pilot at that point. I sat beside her and held her hand; I leaned across her and held her; I leaned behind the head of her bed, over to her best ear, and talked to her and told her all the things I wanted to tell her, things I hoped she wanted to hear.
From time to time I heard her breathing 'downshift,' so I knew the change was coming. I continued to hold her hand, as I always did, hoping she'd know from that gesture that it was me, the bringer of coffee and new clothes.
Finally, I didn't see or hear her breathe. She was still. I watched her for a few moments and then called the nurse, Desirae. She checked her and said Mom was still there. I held Mom and spoke some more.
Very soon, a final check with the stethoscope told me my mother had died. It was immediately evident. Her pretty ivory complexion with faint pink roses on her cheekbones was no longer there.
That was February 21, just before midnight.
When I came home from that trip that Friday, I had my mom's cremated remains with me as carryon luggage. THAT was an experience. Two trips before I'd come back with a puppy in a doggie carrier, and now this, ashes in a cardboard scattering tube with an ocean scene printed on it.
I had had the discussion with the undertaker about putting those ashes into a great big red Folger's container, but we agreed that would have been too tacky.
However, it would have been Mom. And hey, it wasn't my idea anyway; those "Bucket List" guys did it.
Oddball thought. Laughing, crying, feeling in a fog for a few days.
What does this have to do with accidental retirement? Not much, really, except that I am more grateful than I can express that I wasn't tied down to some damn job where I had to scrape and beg for time off. I have had the time the past couple of years actually to slow way down, and that very slowing down gave me precious time with my mom that I'd never had before.
That's all for now. I may be back.
