This should have been my first post, but it's the blog I never wanted to write. I've been postponing it because I knew it would be so difficult. When I started writing this blog, it was to heal and express how I was feeling. And these were things I've been trying for over two months to forget, to not feel. This is the recounting of the day my Mom died, March 6th.
It started early on a Sunday morning. I, as usual, had silenced my cell phone for the evening. So it was only when I awoke that I noticed I had just missed a call from Mom's assisted living facility. I used to always hold my breath when this number came up on my phone and this time was no different. I immediately called back and the nurse told me that Mom had been sick since she woke up and that her pulse rate was unsteady. She told me that they were sending her to the hospital and they suspected she just needed some fluids or something. This seemed logical. There had been a stomach virus going around the facility and Mom had been doing great. No need to suspect anything else.
I hastily threw on clothes and rushed to the ER. I beat her there. It seemed like hours before she arrived. In that time, I called my brother and texted many friends to ask for prayers. When the ambulance finally arrived, I rushed to the back and stood there as they opened the doors. There was my Mom in her floral pajamas, smiling down at me..."well, isn't this a revolting development." One of her favorite phrases. We both giggled.
They rushed her into a room and immediately started hooking her up to machines. Like frantic ants whose mound has been disturbed, the ER staff scurried around my Mom and in and out of the room. Worried looks on their faces. I couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. She had a stomach virus. A kind, handsome doctor pulled me from the doorway into the hall to quietly inform me that my mother was having a heart attack. I told him that couldn't be because she didn't have a heart condition. He was so patient with me as he explained that well, he needed to check any way. They all left as quickly as they had appeared and Mom and I were alone for the first time. I stood by her bed and held her hand and I cried. She lay quietly as she squeezed my hand and held it tightly. And then they were back. She was whisked away to the cath lab and I was escorted to the waiting room.
On an early Sunday morning, I sat alone in the surgical waiting room. I leaned my face into my hands and sobbed. I pleaded with God. Please. I'm not ready to lose her. I can't do this without her. I wiped my face and headed to the cafeteria to find something to eat. I needed to stay strong...for her. I picked at my food and popped a couple of Advil. It had been almost 4 hours since that phone call. I made more phone calls and waited. After about an hour, the kind doctor reappeared. He explained that one of Mom's arteries had been 100% blocked. He had stinted it and her heart was strong. No damage. There was no reason why she shouldn't make a full recovery. I breathed a sigh of relief .
I went to ICU to wait for her. They rolled her in and she was awake. She smiled at me. A smile that said I'm still here. The nurses came and settled her in. She WAS strong. And she wanted to live. See, Mom had found a new purpose since Dad passed away three years ago. She was the welcoming committee, counselor, and friend of her assisted living companions. Her entire married life, Mom had been the one in the background, the supporter, to be cliche...the wind beneath the wings. She was content to support her husband and children. That was her job. As we drove back to Lafayette from Hammond one of the last times she went there, she wept and said, "I don't know what my purpose is now." I told her that she obviously still had one because she was still here. Well, she had found that purpose. And she wanted to live.
That afternoon the nurses kept asking her if she needed things and she would say, "No, but if I do, Patricia will get it for me." That's who we had always been, but since Dad, even more so. But she was fine. We talked, we laughed, we planned. We were going to my nephew's graduation in May. I discussed my trip to Costa Rica in May and how I had hired a dog sitter already and she said, "Oh, I'll be fine to keep her by then." She wanted to live. Don't get me wrong, my Mom was ready to die. She knew with all certainty where she was going and that she would see my Dad again. But that afternoon, we both wanted her to live. My brother kept texting and finally about 5 pm I convinced her that he needed to hear her voice. She said her throat was dry and she would just talk to him tomorrow, but I pressed the issue and punched in the number. I heard her side of the conversation, animated, normal. She was fine, she reassured, and no, he didn't need to come. She said goodbye and handed me the phone. As she did this, she took my hand and said "I told him we didn't need him. You and I have got this." And she smiled.
As the night went on, she was still sick. She couldn't keep anything down, not even water. I fed her ice chips. Only a few at a time. I wiped her face and put Vaseline on her lips. And we got quiet. Something wasn't right. I knew it, but I wouldn't let myself believe it. She was just tired I kept telling her. It had been a long day. She just needed to rest. Tomorrow would be fine. God, please just get her through this night. I thought that if we could just make it through this night, everything would be fine. She was so restless. Talking out loud and gesturing in the air. Not like people say. She wasn't seeing the other side. She was talking to her friends at the assisted living. She was organizing them as she often did. And she would awaken and knew she had been doing it. I googled all her symptoms. Was this normal? She was going to be fine. She wanted to live.
Around midnight, she finally quieted and seemed to be resting. I lay awake on the pull out chair, listening and watching the machines. Every 15 minutes, a new reading. I watched and waited. And as the machine beeped and clicked, I heard a familiar sound. Mom was praying. I couldn't make out the words, but I had seen and heard this before. The quiet murmuring of a prayer.
I stood by her bed and held her hand. "Just rest, Mom." She looked at me, "I'm so tired." "Yes, I know. Try to sleep." "But, I just feel so sick." My heart grabbed in my chest. This was my Mom and she never complained about anything. I can't explain it, but I began to panic. I knew in that moment that I was going to lose her. But denial was strong. And she wanted to live?
Those were the last words my Mom said to me. She drifted off to sleep. Not me though, I watched the machines and prayed. It was about 30 minutes later and the numbers started to drop. I jumped up and ran into the hall to meet the nurse heading my way. "Are you worried?" She wasn't. Probably just a bad reading. Do it again. Still bad. And here the ants came gain. Injections, oxygen...and the numbers continued to drop. "Did she have a living will on file?" No, I had forgotten it at home. "What do you want us to do?" But he said her heart was strong. He said she would be fine. And she wanted to live!! Yelling at her. Calling her name. No response. Her eyes opened once, but they were empty. I backed into the corner of the room as they worked. I felt like a scared little girl. Why were they asking me these questions? I was just a child. "You have to tell us now!" Quietly at first and then with a yell...NO! Do nothing. A young male nurse brought me back to the side of the bed. I held her hand and she was gone. I collapsed into the arms of a buxom nurse. "I've got you, baby." A room full of strangers and me. They didn't know me, but they had witnessed Mom and I all night and they knew, and they shed tears for me. Each one assuring me that I had done the right thing. I had made the correct decision. I had honored her to the end. And the nurse who held me told me how proud of me she was. "I've had families with living wills in their hands not be strong enough to do what you did tonight by yourself." Through my tears I whispered, "But I didn't get to tell her I loved her." She smiled, "All night she trusted you to take care of her. She wanted you and you alone by her side. Baby, she knew you loved her."
I sat there numb. Motionless. "Who can we call for you?" By now, it was after one in the morning. I needed to call my brother. All I could get out was "She's gone, she's gone, she's gone." He would come, but it would take time. "Baby, I can't let you leave here alone." I was shaking uncontrollably. "Honey, focus on me. You're going into shock. Breathe." I made several phone calls before someone answered. No hello, "Are you alone?" "Yes." "Where are you? I'm on my way." She was there in about 15 minutes. We packed up our things. I held Mom's hand one last time and my friend and I walked out into the night.
I drove home alone. I wasn't thinking clearly. I sent many texts that simply said, "Mom is gone." One of my friends from work was awake...at 3 am. She responded, "I'm so sorry. What do you need?" "I don't know." "I'm on my way." She sat with me until the rest of the world woke up and read those texts. I honestly don't know what I would have done in those hours without her. Other friends arrived around 6 and then 7 and 7:30. It's a blur but I remember I couldn't stop shaking and crying. Friends stayed with me until my brother arrived around 10:30. In about 24 hours, my world was forever changed. My mother was my best friend, my confidante, my encourager, my biggest fan, my hero, my role model, my spiritual adviser, my everything. And she was gone.
It's been almost 3 months since that night. Time has helped some. The shaking stopped. It took about a month. Doctors said I was in shock. A sort of post-traumatic stress thing. I finally started eating and sleeping again. I smile and laugh again. It still feels hollow though. I've been forcing normal for weeks. I still don't know how to do this without her, but I'm learning. I guess I'm growing, changing, developing....a revolting development...true words.
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