She went into her glory

Dear readers,

This post is not going to be for everyone.  This is an account of my memories of my Mother's passing.  It is mostly for my own benefit, my own record, so that I can remember and have it available, but you are welcome to read.  It's somewhat graphic at the end (not gory, just detailed) and may be upsetting or triggering.  Don't feel like you -need- to read it, but you are welcome to do so.  Thank you for your love and support in the past year.  Peace be unto you and unto us all.

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One year ago was a busy day.  We'd held Mother's Day a little on the fly just the Sunday before because we weren't sure she would make it the remaining three weeks.  My sister and our second-oldest brother and his husband were able to join us, with our oldest brother calling in from back East.  Mom was still fairly lucid so she could see and hear from all her kids, though she wasn't able to come upstairs and join us.  I had bought a book just the day before, and read a little bit that night, hoping that I would have time to delve further into its insights and make this time easier for everyone.

My sister and her family had come again on Wednesday afternoon because we knew that time was shrinking rapidly.  Mom's frailty seemed to advance at an increasing rate, with her able to move around the house with help one day to barely able to move to her own bathroom the next: from mostly lucid to barely communicating in just a few days.  It was as though she saw the end in sight and was willing herself toward it.   None of us could deny it of her; she had earned it.

Mom's Hospice nurse came in the mid-morning.  I helped her to move Mom in the bed that was the only place she remained, helped her be in as comfortable a position as possible.  She showed no signs of leaving us immediately and her nurse said it would probably be a few days.  There were discussions of how often the bathing lady would need to come, who was coming for the very first time that day because it was the first time she would be needed since Mom could no longer get to the shower.  My nephews and baby niece came to say good-bye about half past noon, since my brother-in-law had to take them home for one of the boys' practices that night.  They planned to come back on Saturday.  My sister stayed behind with us.

When the bath lady came about an hour later my sister and I helped her.  We worked together, washing her body and her hair. Mom seemed mostly insensible to it, not really reacting much at all.  We were nearly done, we just needed to turn her to wash her back.  I lifted the towel we had placed under her to roll her toward me and her head and shoulders fell off the foam wedge where she lied.  Her eyes popped wide open and she gasped!  The sudden shift in her position and orientation had jarred her body into a panic of gasping, even when we rolled her back into place.  We waited and watched for her breathing to calm, a process that took about forty minutes.

When her breathing relaxed, Dad took a minute to go return a call he'd gotten shortly before.  My sister and the lady remained in the room with Mom as her breathing continued to slow.  Her nurse had spoken before of a rattling sort of breath; sometimes it signified the end, sometimes it could last for days.  When we heard it, I spun around and yelled "DAD!  COME!"  He hung up the phone and got back into the room just in time to sit beside her and hold her hand as her breathing slowed to its final.  He checked her pulse and told us she was gone.

The peace that entered the room at that time was profound and unexpected in its depth.  We gathered by her bedside to say good-bye, and I felt the presence of her spirit beside me, and I felt her take my hand, which closed on its own.  The feel of her in the room lingered for a minute or two before fading away, leaving solace and sorrow in her wake.

Milk after meat

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. 
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms
....
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
--William Shakespeare


I wanted this to be a super smart post contrasting two observations; the first being that after a long life of eating "meat", my Mom now survives on a primarily liquid diet of Ensure, jello, water, and milk, and never very much of any; the second being that many times, after a long life of living on spiritual "meat", we all still need the milk at times, that sometimes we need rest from being bogged down in the "thick of thin things" of culture and society and practice vs doctrine..

I wanted it to be, but I have to leave it at that for now and trust my readers to make their own contemplations on the matter.  Time is too short now to do much that I don't feel like doing, and I don't feel like a long post today.  The confusion has set in.  She's hardly eating.  She spends the majority of her time in bed.  She surfaces sometimes, but other times, she doesn't understand what's going on, why there's so many cards and flowers and visitors.  She wonders who's sick and what people aren't telling her.


We celebrated Mother's Day yesterday (Earth Day = Love Your Mother = We do, but she might not be here for the official Mother's Day) and she got to talk to all of her kids.  My sister was in town this weekend, and my brother and his husband came to visit yesterday, and our other brother called in and will be here next weekend.


Today, we had to tell her that she (and her brother, who was visiting when she last asked) are sick with cancer and that it's taking over her body.  She still didn't understand, and wanted to know what we were leaving out.  I had to tell her she was going to go see her mother and father soon.  She looked at me with a little surprise, but she understood.  She knew that meant the time wouldn't be long.  Then she observed, "This is totally strange."


It is.  It must be, to realize that you're quickly coming to the end of your journey, and you're having to say goodbye to everyone you love.

suckitude...

Tired...

It's a quarter to four in the morning.  I'm tired and I have work in about seven hours but I don't want to go to sleep.  I haven't been wanting to sleep lately.  My diet has gone to crap.  I seem to be punishing my body.  This is what I do to dull the pain.  Some people cut, some do drugs, some drink; apparently, I stay up and eat.  I know it's not healthy and it doesn't even feel good, but I can't seem to find the will to rest.

I'm tired.  Generally, genuinely tired.  I know I'm depressed.  I'm not handling this well at all.  I didn't even Facebook Fast last weekend.  My life activities seem to be pulling into a singularity: Be around for Mom.

Thing is... Mom's pretty much gone.  Not entirely, but she's definitely not there like she was.  She takes too long to answer questions most of the time, if she answers them at all.  She's begun arguing over taking medication.  She barely has the energy to get herself to the bathroom.  I'm going to help her shower in the morning, another reason I should be asleep instead of blogging.  I want her to try medical marijuana so she'll freaking eat something.  Dad and I wonder if she'll starve herself before the cancer gets her, she eats so little--not even a full glass of milk or bowl of jello or soup in a full day.

As Dad said, I don't want to pray her through the veil, but I don't want her to suffer, either.  I haven't had time to release everything pent up inside of me in weeks, and my doctor is concerned about my latest blood tests.  I don't have time for this, but I can't seem to stop it from happening.  I've already withdrawn from most of my life for the time being.  I know that's not healthy, either.

This was never covered in school.

I don't know what to call this post

So.... my beloved cat, Topsy, died on the First of the month.  I'd had him/He'd had me since some time about 1999 or so.  He was an outdoor cat, semi-feral, very friendly and sweet, though clearly with a past of having been abused by someone.  Something happened to him neurologically--his body was still healthy--and he deteriorated rapidly to the point where I had to make the decision to end his suffering and have him euthanized.

As if that didn't suck enough.

Today (yesterday now... it's after midnight) the results from my Mom's latest PET scan came in.  Today-today is exactly six months since I first posted about her cancer, and almost five months since musing in grief that she could be gone in six...

Now, it's everywhere.  God in Heaven, it's everywhere.  It's everywhere inside her.  There's too many spots.  It's in her bones, in her muscles, her organs... and even a tiny spot between the hemispheres of her brain.  There's nothing more that can be done except to make sure she's comfortable and take as much advantage of the time we have while we can.

She has hardly gotten out of bed since Sunday morning and she has a horrible time concentrating or remembering... or communicating.  She'll start to say something and stop after a few words, and just go silent.  Half the time she forgets that she spoke at all.  When something's really on her mind, she repeats and reaffirms it over and over again.  "I'm okay."  "I love you."  "He [my Dad] needs to be strong."  It's very similar to the way my Grandma (Dad's Mom) is now with her dementia.  She has been in a care home for a year and a half now.  Mom won't have that long.

The last "big" things she did on Saturday before this began was having a Five Guys burger for dinner after the PET scan (having such an appetite has been a big deal, lately) and standing by to support me as I buried Topsy in the yard.  Her oncologist says she likely has months (rather than weeks and rather than years) and there's talk about bringing in Hospice soon.  Hospice has been mentioned for my Grandpa as well, who's living with congestive heart failure and has been in and out of hospitals and care facilities since Christmas.

We probably won't make it over to my sister's for blessing my baby niece, so they may come here instead.  If it can happen in our home ward and Mom feels up to go to Sacrament meeting, wonderful!  If she doesn't, we will do it here at home.

I'm sure there's many philosophical and spiritual things to be said here about life and death, change, transition, and the eternal nature of the soul.  There is.  I just can't say it right now.  I can't.  I'm numb with spurts of anguish.  I'm adjusting to the loss of my cat okay.  I hope I can do comparably well for the coming loss of my Mother and Grandfather.  I hope I can find or be given strength to let my Dad be weak when he needs to be weak.

Oh God, what am I going to do....