Consumate -- Word for the Day -- Tuesday, February 27, 2009

Consummate

DEFINITION: (verb) to complete, finish, or perfect.

I am home today after running some errands with my older brother, Gord. The ashes were released to us so we took them and placed them between my grandmother and grandfather this morning. We prayed afterward. In a sense, it was the funeral service for us. We had a memorial service yesterday, 11:00 a.m., Monday - Markham Street Baptist Church.

She would have been so pleased with the attendance and the services. She would have been pleased to see how well her children braved the sadness for the day. The family and friends helped to get us to the end. Stayed with us every minute and throughout the evening.

I could not have made it without ChemoSabe and Gord. They were my rocks when they, too, were struggling to get through and be strong for the others. We have laughed together, cried together and shared 'hellos' throughout the house when we were coming and going the last week. ChemoSabe would be leaving for a long trip, Gord had left to replace me at the hospital and me coming in just long enough to peck ChemoSabe and head for the bed. I didn't regret a minute of it.

Things have been running purely on adrenalin. As soon as I would lay my head on the pillow I was thinking I needed to get up and shower and head back. I couldn't get enough of being with her. I wasn't frantic, but I didn't want to lose a minute.

I wanted to be there until the end, but I didn't want to see the signs of death. The ones explaining the last phases. Gasping for breath, choking and shaking. So, I didn't want to see the suffering? How could I think such!?!?!?!?!?!? She suffered for me. She would have wanted to be with me until the end.

Gord watched her all night Friday. Worn out physically, but I think the emotionally was the most damaging. Her breath was so shallow. She rested so well in the night, he informed me. She was still.

I took my saddlebag to do my bills I had been working on in her room all week. After I sat everything up the cleaning ladies came in. They asked about her, as they had each day. I offered them one of her Valentine's chocolates. She loved to share her candy. We had shared them the last two days.

Each time I wrote a check I would glance over at her. I sat about two feet from her right side. I would bend over and rub her arm. Just to feel her skin. The room would get real hot and real cool. We never could get the thermostat set right. I was up and down moving the knob. Each time checking her left side and rubbing her forehead. So still and relaxed. Like a baby. Pink faced with the inward warmth of her body.

"Is your neck hot?", I asked her. I raise her head and felt the back of her neck. She had been having 'hot flash' like symptoms the last few days. Smelled like little baby sweat (stinky feet smell). I laughed and told her I was going to have to name her "Stinky feet".

Her neck was not rigid. The days before we could not get her head off the pillow because she was so stiff in her neck. She had relaxed considerably the last two days. Gord and I both discussed how tired her frail body must be. Breathing so deeply.

Okay, back to my bills. I kept finding excuses to not do them. Did a few more checks... 9:45 a.m. Nurse comes in for vitals. 110/54, 98 oxy., 84 pulse, 98 temp. We both smiled and talk about how she is determined. I offered her a chocolate. She shook her head slowly. I explained to her as I did the others, if she didn't she would hurt my mom's feelings. After all, they told us she could hear her surroundings and know what we were saying. AND, they were Belgian chocolates. She giggled and took one. All the nurses did the same. They were so wonderful, compassionate and caring, even to us.

I gathered up all my trash, my record book and packed everything into my saddlebag along with my calculator and purse. Moved the bag to the outer side of the bed, toward the door. I looked around as if she summoned me. I didn't hear anything I just had a sense she wanted me to look at her.

I turned and her lids seemed slitted open a bit. Was she looking at me? Her lids were not quivering as if to be trying to open her eyes. They were smooth and relaxed. Her whole face was relaxed and not moving. I walked over and said, "Do you need something?" I watched for a long deep breath to end. They had gotten so long lately we would watch and watch, then sigh with relief when the heave returned.

Without seeing a breath, I looked at her throat. Soft slow beats. I opened my cell phone to call Gord. I wondered why I was doing that if this may be a false alarm. I hung up. I pushed the nurses' button. I watched her neck. Slow, soft, slow, soft, slow, slow, soft, whisper, stop. I looked out the hall and saw our nurse. I yelled, "Lisa, I think it's time."

She trotted down the hall with out seeming she was in horror, but with a determination to get there cautiously and expediently. She checked mom as I rubbed her head and her fore arm. Yes, "It is time." Lisa had a tear in her eye. I called Gord. He had only been home long enough to shower and change. He had no desire to rest. He felt the need to get back. He was driving out the driveway when he answered my call. ChemoSabe and Son were on their way. 10:10 a.m.

Hospice came to advise us what to expect the next few hours. I offered her chocolate. She took it gladly. One of the head doctor's came to do the official notification. I offered her a chocolate. After much badgering from the hospice nurse, she took it and ate it there with us. We all laughed.

What a life my mother had and what a death. Came in like lions and left as peaceful as the breath of angels and she wasn't alone. She had people around her that had enjoyed her. People she didn't know and they were never able to communicate with her, but they grew to know her by taking care of her.

Thank you all -- family, friends, church friends and especially my boss, the preacher. We could not have made it without calls, help at the house and help getting us out of the house. You all have made it a joyful abundance of memories. Happy Valentine's Day -- The celebration of her life!!!!!

Good afternoon and Love, Pepper (Momma as called to me by my mom)

Mutable -- Word for the Day -- Wednesday, February 12, 2009

MUTABLE

DEFINITION: (adjective) likely to change.

Saddening news from Pepper today. Mom fell on Saturday evening and broke her hip. She tripped across a bed lever from her new roommate's bed as she was walking to the restroom. Her surgery on Sunday morning went without a glitch. She came through just fine. She has not come out of the sedative stage. It is believed she had a stroke sometime Sunday evening or aspirated on vomit. I did not stay with her on Saturday evening as they promised to have someone watch for her. I also did not stay on Sunday night because she would be out then. I have been beating myself up.

Tuesday morning the doctors told us at 8:30 we had an hour before she would be gone. Then in the evening they told us she would not make it through the night. Hospice was called in. Well, she again, same as in October, has surprised us with her will to fight.

Her vital signs are tremendously well. Her urine output has increased. Her breathing has stablized, but she is still unconscious. She can understand what we are saying. She had her eyes opened all day yesterday and they were clear. Unlike Monday and Tuesday when they were clouded, gazed and unresponsive.

I really had my hopes up yesterday when her breathing wasn't so labored. Her hip is healing well, but her complete right side is limp and she has a twitch in the right side of her face.

I had hoped she would pull out of it like before. We were having such a great time with our relationship. We were communicating better and she didn't seem as agitated. She was excited about her birthday party that was to be last Sunday. I was experiencing a part of my mother that I had never before. We were hugging, touching, laughing and just having a good time. She called me 'momma'.

On Tuesday also, my sister-in-law took a turn for the worse. She was rushed by ambulance to UAMS and her kidneys are failing. She was severly dehydrated. They are pumping her full of fluids to reverse the cycle. My brother is in complete denial of her illness and mom's. Remember, he is a wheel chair victim.

I won't linger any longer. I just wanted to keep you updated. I really don't believe mom will make it through the weekend.

Please pray for my family and me. Especially my little brother, Mike.

Good afternoon and love -- Pepper (I am so sad)