The one about the worst phone call of my life

God, I have so many issues with my sister, which will remained unresolved. I know it, because no  matter what kind of hell she is going thru right not, once it is over, we will still be strangers. I have not doubt that the last time I see her will be the day I bury my mother. When Judy dies, I highly doubt that ony one of her sons even thinks to let me know. I’m sure that Gene won’t think if it. I’m great if someone needs me, but if i need someone—well, I am on my own. I’ve been on my own for my entire life and it certainly does add to my natural flaws.

I have thousands of unresolved issues with my mother, as do we all. They will remain unresolved because I just talked to her on the phone. She was screaming and sobbing in pain. The way you feel during childbirth, when you are begging for relief? That is kindergarten compared to what I heard on the phone.

She has excellent hospice care, She will die at home, wher she will at least have someone by her side for the last of however many hours this takes. She hasn’t eaten or had any liquids for the past two weeks, so I knew that there was a time limit for the end of her life.

I have friends and a daughter who have said things like “Oh, Mom starved herself to death.” Puking up a sip of water for hours doesn’t sound like an actual plan to starve yourself.

She is getting all of the End of Days drugs now and they are not helping. Morphine every five minutes isn;t helping. The Haldol isn’t helping.

My mother has been reduced to a suffering animal. In fact, if I found an animal whimpering and screaming on the side of the roud, I’d put him out of his misery.

That we take our sweet time and let our elderly parents suffer while some doctor  ON EASTER SUNDAY is on call is almost unconscionableI think she should have had an IV line when she stopped being able to take fluids, simply because even I knew that she was going to need drugs and a lot of them.

I also knew that morphine FOR MY MOTHER is not as effective as Demerol. But who would listen to me?

No one. I’ve spent a lifetime of having not one person on the planet listen to me. I thought about hopping into the car a driving to Utah….I could be there by 2 AM…but really, what could I do or be but in the way. Plus, this would be just one more weekend that would be a drag for Mike. (I’m not over that, yet. And I’m not sure I will ever be.)

In fact, when he was complaining about what an imposition my hospitalization was last week, I thought to myself “Hmmm. I wonder how many draggin weekends YOU FAMILY had because of your illness?” I didn’t say it, because I don’t want to fight. I just want to save that in my little evil brain.

So I’ll grieve in my own way. I’ll cry on the way to work, because God knows, someone has to work and keep the cash flowing into this family.  I’ll miss the end of my mother’s life because I fucking don’t want my husband to ever tell me how I made his day, week, hour a drag.

Mom doesn’t deserve this kind of end.  Neither do I.


6 thoughts on “The one about the worst phone call of my life

  1. That comment of your husband’s has obviously hurt you very much, but please don’t let it dictate your behaviour now. If you want to go to your mother, go. If you want to take a break from work, then do it. If you don’t want to do either of those things, then don’t…but not because of what he said. Now is the time to be worrying about you and your mother. Can you call her doctor and talk about the painkilling drugs that *will* help her? You’ve said all along that the morphine wouldn’t suit her, just as it doesn’t suit you. My heart is aching for you and for her.

  2. ((( Chloe)))), I’m so sorry that you are having to go through this. Sometimes the ones we love the most say and do things that hurt us the most. You are in my prayers!

  3. Being there at the end is not all it’s cracked up to be. You can’t do anything and all it does is add to your pain, which is already considerable.

    You know better than most that physicians/hospitals have “protocols” that they follow and we can all go screw ourselves because they are not going to make exceptions. It is unfortunate that they refused Demerol in favor of morphine (believe me, I know — Demerol is the only thing that will kill one of my omnipresent headaches, but St. Agnes doesn’t give Demerol in the ER [protocol], so I get Dilaudid which just shifts the pain elsewhere).

    Your sister is part of the medical profession with all the matter-of-fact, this-is-how-we-do-things, why-do-you-have-a-problem-with-that-we’re-professionals mentality. She always was like that, so maybe she just found the right profession.

    Now, in the completely bitchy department, I am not saying that your mother was not in pain at the end, but she did have a tendency to “wallow”in her pain (Judy got her self-centeredness from somewhere, Dearest). At any rate, it is over now.

    And your defiant pride instead of making Mike grow up makes my teeth hurt, but you already know that and it’s irrelevant anyway. The upshot is that HE needs to deal with HIS problems and YOU need to stop letting him make them YOURS. HE doesn’t own YOUR problems and you need to stop lightening his load.

    He is a selfish man in arrested adolescence, but you and you alone can make decisions about your relationship. I am not one to judge since MY husband had to endure my own prolonged adolescence (and I am forever grateful to him for it).

    Just know that your mother is finally at peace and you have done and are doing the best you can.

    I am also jealous because I still have to see MY sister.

    1. Oh, my defiant pride.. I think we are dealing with this in much the way we dealt with the death of my father….together, all of us. It is true that different things get on our one last nerve but happily for us, at the end of the day, it’s not always the same person and the same nerve.

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