It is with deep sadness that I announce the passing of my beloved Mom. Some of you already know my story with regards to my Mom, but she was 96 years old and died from Alzheimer’s. I was her son, companion, and finally caregiver for 20 years now. She took me in when I had lost literally everything back in 2005 while living in NC (divorced from an abusive ex, social network was all her friends who deserted me, depression affected my job performance and I was fired, then sold my home at a loss).
My Mom took me after all those failures.
She had suffered two heart attacks before I moved back to her home in Louisville back in 2005. Mom was able to still function, but she had other health problems, such as loss of her equilibrium from a reaction to Lipitor (diagnosed from the Mayo Clinic, by the way). I helped out around the home, and I found odd jobs here and there to try and pull my own weight.
I was a research biochemist, but my days in the lab were over when I dropped back into Louisville. It is not what you call a biotech/pharmaceutical town In fact, Louisville ain’t what it used to be for a long time.
I went back to school to get a couple of more useless degrees (political science, then later teaching). Mom helped me out during all that time. She supported me both spiritually and financially when good paying jobs were no where in sight.
As time wore on, Mom’s health began to decline. It was more physical at first then cognitive. She feel multiple times and broke her wrist and then her leg. She ended up on a walker, which she never liked. It was during this time that she had to quit driving herself, so I gladly took up as her driver.
After I lost my teaching job (long terrible story), it was my Mom who noticed the advertisement from the U.S. Census Bureau for clerks. I had worked for them as a temp before, so I applied again. I was initially always a temp, but eventually, I landed a permanent gig working the phones.
Sadly, it was during this time that Mom’s cognitive abilities started to slide. I ignored those warning signs at first because I thought some of it might be her sugar levels (diabetic type II) were low. But it got worse, and both my sister’s insisted I take Mom into a geriatric doctor. It was during the first Trump Administration that Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
It was a body blow for me because it was my Mom’s greatest fear. She grew up on the farm, and people in those days always associated mental disease as being “crazy’ or something to be ashamed of (think epilepsy wive’s tales). Mom was terrified to lose her mind, and she was scared to end up in nursing home.
She’d seen plenty of others in homes, and she wanted no part of that.
I made sure that she kept appointments with the doctor and administering her many medications. I was already doing the grocery shopping and cooking by then. I’d clean the house when I could (not a great housekeeper I will admit). When she began to lose bowel and bladder control, I got her the diapers and pads for her bed. And I would make sure to get her to the bathroom when I knew she needed it. Eventually, I ended up giving her baths, which she hated.
I can’t blame her really. Would you want your adult child to have to bath you like a kid? It’s one thing for a parent to bath their kids, but anyway.
I’d talk to her and try to keep her up on current events, especially when she could no longer read her newspapers. Mom loved reading the local newspaper because it’s what her generation did. But she did admit to me that she could no longer understand what she saw on the page. I’d tell her what was on the news on the TV.
But eventually, Alzheimer’s continued to rob of her dignity.
The doctor finally convinced me to get Mom into hospice after she lost the ability to chew foods. She also lost the ability to form words and talk with me. And she could no longer walk with me from the bathroom while I held her up and had her hold the walker. Her physical strength was gone.
I thought I might have a couple of months with Mom left, but this past Saturday, Mom had what was the death rattle. She was gurgling loudly when I had returned from the gym. Her mouth was wide open, and her tongue was curled back. And her eyes were wide open This was after I had given her a yogurt and some orange juice in the morning.
I immediately called hospice. I was told to place Mom on her side because secretions were building up in her throat. It eased the gurgling, but it was still bad enough for a nurse to be sent.
This happens near the end, which the nurse who came out told me that Mom was on End of Life watch.
It was another body blow for me.
Mom could no longer have food or liquids. I was to just provide medication for pain and her breathing and secretions. I contacted my sisters, and both came down to say good-bye to Mom. Both are out of state, so it was just me to watch Mom for the next several days. The rest of any family that was still on speaking terms with me and Mom (literally everybody but four others on my Mom’s side of the family have broken off contact with us. Fuckin’ family squabble over a previous relatives death and will) came.
Mom was having real problems with breathing today starting at around 1 P.M., and higher dosages of meds didn’t really help. The last visit by the nurse was this evening, and she and I went into the kitchen to prepare Mom’s meds. When we walked back into the living room where Mom was, the nurse told me, “I think she has just passed.” The nurse checked her vitals, and Mom had finally passed after nearly five days.
Her suffering is over.
Mom willed her body to the local university medical school, and the attending nurse contacted the university to pick up Mom’s body in about an hours time. The prepared her for transport while I let the room, and then I said my final good-bye to my Mom.
I realize this is a lengthy diary, and given the time I am posting it, I doubt it will be read by many. But it is giving me something to do while I try and deal with my grief.
I have no idea if there is an afterlife. I hope there is one. I’m clutching at straws here, but we had a thunderstorm after my Mom’s body was taken away. And I am reminded of an old saying my Mom told me decades ago. It’s a country saying, but I hear it’s from the Victorian Age. It’s said that a rain storm after a recent death is a sign of a blessing from God for the recently departed. Also, it’s meant to mean a cleansing of sorrow and pain.
I will try to keep that in mind on the long road ahead of me without my Mom.
Thank you to whoever decides to read this diary.
