In a Moment

There is a moment between sleep and awake – between peaceful dreaming and awakened reality. Mostly, we miss this moment and go straight from asleep to awake without noticing. But sometimes there is such a difference in our feelings of peaceful sleeping and awake worries that the moment stands out.

Monday two weeks ago, I went to WF to see Mom and run some errands. I got her up to have lunch and visit. She was not great, but not bad either. She was not participating in the House of Hope activities as she had been. She was staying in her room more and more and sleeping more. She was not eating well and sometimes complaining that she hurt. That same Monday her doctor called me. He felt like something was seriously wrong with Mom, but he did not know what. Cancer came to mind, but how seriously did we want to look for the problem? What did we want to put Mom through when she already had a terminal illness. The doctor and I discussed Mom’s unhappiness and dementia. I did not want to put Mom through tests and such. I did not want her to have to go through treatments of some sort. I did want Mom to be comfortable and as happy as she could be. He agreed and said we should think about initiating hospice – not as an end to things, but as another layer of comfort that they could provide. The doctor said that I didn’t need to make the decision right then, but think about it and discuss it with my siblings. I was at peace.

When I called my brothers and told them of the discussion, they were not picking up what I was laying down.  They seemed to think that we did need to look for what was wrong with Mom. It actually stressed me more than the thought of hospice. But I knew I needed to give them time to think on it. Mom was changing so much and not for the better. I don’t think they were thinking of her deterioration or how intrusive and upsetting doctors and medical tests would be. So I did not push the issue.

On Friday of that same week, the nurses from HOH called to say we needed to make a decision on hospice. Mom was really not doing well. My brother went by to see her and the light-bulb over his head came on. The next day, last Saturday we met with hospice and started her extra layer of care. I knew it was a good decision, yet it was serious. Mom was not responding much to us – just laying in bed sleeping. That next morning I awoke early from a peaceful dream and good rest. Then in a single moment my mind shifted to “you put your mom in hospice” and the cares of this world came flooding in. Such a downer!

Mom had been so bad on Saturday that I decided to try and stay with her as much as possible – be there for her if and when she passed. I got to the HOH early Monday morning and stayed all day and then all day Tuesday. She seemed better. Maybe the antibiotics and pain meds were helping her to get over her pneumonia and the pain of whatever was wrong. We had two good days. Because I had several appointments and errands back in OK, I left her on Wednesday.

On Friday morning I went back to HOH.  Mom was not responsive. No more talking. No more eye contact. Around noon the hospice nurse sat down with Pete and me to say that Mom was dying – that time was short. If anyone wanted to come say good-bye, they needed to do it. My older brother had been there the Saturday before with his daughter, and he was due back with his son. My little brother called his sons, and they came in Friday night. So we all met at Mom’s Friday night. Although Mom seemed to be sleeping, she did respond somewhat to the nurses when they asked her to roll over or something. She seemed to be hearing us even if she was not communicating.

I spent the night with Jesse and woke up early Saturday morning – just yesterday. I decided to get on over to Mom’s and spend some quiet time with her before the gang showed up. I sat with her, drank my coffee, crocheted, talked, and prayed. It was a nice time. When my brothers and their sons got there around 8:30, Mom was having trouble breathing due to congestion in her chest. We called the nurse who gave her a dose of morphine and was about to administer a breathing treatment. My brother, Craig, and his son and I were sitting close to Mom – talking to her, soothing her, waiting on the nurse. I knew Mom did not have the strength to fight the congestion. I was praying for peace and mercy. Mom did get peaceful. She was looking at Craig and Adam who were talking to her - telling her they loved her. Then she closed her eyes and her breathing got quiet. The nurse came in with the breathing treatment, but I said, “I think we are in trouble here.” The nurse checked her pulse and heart. I noticed the nurse was trembling and looking like she might cry. Mom was gone.

It was sad, but I was glad my broth and nephew were there with me. Adam did a great job. I was so proud of him. Then the whole day changed. Decisions and arrangements had to be made. It was the longest day of my life. I drove home last night, but will go back on Monday for the visitation that night and funeral on Tuesday at 10 AM. I was so tired, I hit the bed and fell asleep. This morning I awoke early. There was that moment when I was thinking, “Maybe we could try this for Mom…” and then that reality of, “Oh wait, she is gone.”  Reality sets in and dreams disappear.