In many ways, it was bizarre and a bit like letting a treasured cat go, as strange as that analogy may seem. The choice for me and my 97 year-old mom (ten days short of being 98 years-old) was doing an endoscopy to find out where the GI bleed was that would require 4 units of blood stat. And if/when they found it, they couldn't do ANYTHING about it.
This time, mom's hematocrit, was lower than ever even after one unit of blood ten days earlier; it was 17. Her body temp was 88 degrees, blood pressure was (at the memory care home) 70/47 but rose to 90/57 at the hospital when she entered the emergency room thanks to the wound nurse that was treating the edema in her lower legs and noticed her chest congestion.
I called ahead and told them not to do anything until I arrived. I was 15 minutes away. I reminded them of her DNR on file there.
After a discussion with the emergency room physician (amounting to an assessment of what her future held for her, the answer to that being a long series of transfusions on a to-be regular basis) I asked the question: Should we be doing this in light of her DNR wishes and her overall condition. He didn't answer right away, so before he could, I asked, "If this was your mother, what would YOU do?"
His answer came quickly. "I would put her in hospice, make her comfortable, and let her go. Your mother is dying."
The ER doctor put in a call to mom's long-time physician. Her physician concurred and spoke to me. We all concurred.
And so, at 3:00pm yesterday after the Priest I summoned from our Episcopal church left, mom entered the only hospice bed in the hospital, room 413. I stayed with her all day and all night leaving only briefly for 2.5 hours to come home to feed/water the dogs and cats. No one can handle three of my dogs, so it was something I had to do myself.
Mom left this morning at 6:25am today for the great beyond. I was by her side.
I am glad for her. She was miserable.
I am sad for me.
Those of you without family other than the person you just lost probably understand how lonely and strange it is being the last one. The nurses in the hospital kept asking if I needed to call my family. I told them that the only family I had was lying in the bed next to me. Many of them nodded, sadly, and tried to take good care of both of us throughout the night.
But this wasn't about ME. This was about what my mom wanted, what she wrote down that she wanted, and keeping the promise I made to her continually through the years. And that is what I did.
Suffering from dementia, she was completely mentally gone by Christmas unable, even, to open the several presents I brought her. She had other medical problems as well and they were quickly spinning out of control.
After signing papers, I left the hospital and made my way to the cemetery and visited my gramma who would soon have company. My mom kept asking for her mom, and I understand. They were very close.
I walked through rows of the cemetery for almost three hours until I was, well, done. I spoke to the folks there when they opened and must return tomorrow to begin to make arrangements, but because of the holiday weekend, nothing can really be done quickly. That's a good thing.
I then made my way to the care home where I picked up the things I wanted to keep and donated the walker, her canes, her wheel chair a lot of new or almost new clothing etc. I will be donating the return of a few dollars to the care home for someone that needs it. I will miss Pepper and Cookie, the resident dogs (Cookie always comes to me when she sees me now knowing she will get a big 'ol scritchie; Pepper is older and has several inoperable tumors and likely will not be on this earth long, sadly).
I am going to donate mom's glasses and meds.
I will donate to hospice.
Then tomorrow I begin the task of trying to figure out what to do next. I am so tired I can't sleep but I hope that will change soon.
This is a strange trip. I thought I would feel differently.
Here's to you mom. Party on! Love you!
Last photo taken of my mom on Dec. 10. She went straight downhill from here.