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.