Another transition
April 2nd, 2008
We got my mother back to Garden Manor today, but now in the skilled nursing unit. Many of her friends (staff) from her old unit came by to visit her. It was the most animated I’d seen her–she smiled broadly, like her old self. Then she seemed to return to the place she’s been occupying more and more, somewhere deep within. She sleeps a lot. She’s having increasing difficulty swallowing. At times we can hear her lungs softly rattling.
Hospice will be in tomorrow. I am still second-guessing myself about the decisions I’m making. My mother did leave a living will, which helps, but having to reiterate that she is not to be resuscitated forces us to articulate. To say of someone you love: No CPR if she goes into cardiac arrest–What kind of love is that? Sometimes I hear myself saying: “What would we rescue her for? Another few years of miserable confusion?” But that isn’t the reason. I would keep her going no matter how confused she was. I’m intuiting that it’s Time. To everything there is a season, as Ecclesiastes wrote.
“He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.”
April 2nd, 2008 at 8:08 pm
I’m with you, Deb. Living wills don’t make anything easier. My mother has one, and yet, when watching one of her doctor shows, she continues to speculate on the circumstances of its use. So, frankly, do I.
I’m hoping, for you and me, both, that intuiting works. I hear it does. I love believing in the You’ll Know Doctrine. Waiting for The Knowledge sucks, but at least there’s a promise of delivery.
And, you’re right. “Reason-ing” is ineffable and impossible in these circumstances. Maybe in all circumstances.
If you choose to write more about this crook in your journey, know that many, including me, will pay rapt attention. If you choose not to, know that many, including me, will not only understand and respect your choice but will consider your silence a provocative statement in its own right.
Got your note, with much relief. You remain on my mind and in my heart.
No peaches from South America, yet.
April 4th, 2008 at 12:43 am
Hello Deb
It’s Patricia (The Alzheimer’s Carer) - I’m back in the loop again and dropping by to see how you are faring. I lost my mom in February last, and had to make some hard decisions before the end came. I have to say I had already given the “no CPR” instructions about 12 months previously, when the hospital formally admitted my mom for her one week in four of Respite Care - all those details had to be signed off before we started on that. Right at the end I had an even harder decision to make, and I’ll carry on and blog about that later.
Don’t feel bad about making these decisions. We all want to keep our loved ones going for as long as we can, but - really truly - if they were given a few moments of complete clarity to make these decisions themselves, what would they say? I don’t believe people would really want to go on living under the circumstances we are talking about. Love her while you have her, but don’t be afraid to make the “hard” decision to let her go when she physically reaches the place where she is ready to leave.
Blessings
Patricia
April 4th, 2008 at 12:53 pm
My father’s living will was the instrument that guided a very large and diverse group of children towards acceptance of his time being his time.
Nothing about any of it felt right, though. My heart was broken more by his life than his death, he had declined to an unrecognizable state and he had suffered tremendously. His death, to me, came as a great relief. I really felt like he had tunneled his way out and finally escaped. He was free. This view was not shared by those who hadn’t been with him as long as I had, but it was respected. I think they remembered who he had been, years and years ago. I remembered who had to be, against his will, against his nature, against his wishes. Alzheimer’s completely took his free will from him, and he had lived his life calling all his own shots. He did not die that way.
But in the week he died, if nothing else, we learned to give tremendous leeway to allow for each to have one’s own perspective. It’s deeply personal when a mother or father dies. All of us had different relationships with him. All of us were unique, and yet all of us were the same - kids of a dying, much-loved father.
Can we always do right and feel right, too? No. Many times doing the right thing feels awful. I would offer that death is one of those moments, too personal an event to ever come to a consensus on the right time vs the wrong time. I think that’s how it should be, too. All I know is that love never fails.
My heart and prayers and thoughts are with you and your Mom,
Patty