On the Passing of My Mother

She was an independent woman. She was generous, but needy. She was kind, but not physically affectionate (unless you were a child, in which case you got lots of hugs and kisses!) She loved to get around - on foot delivering pamphlets introducing herself as the neighborhood realtor, in her car (she knew more shortcuts than anyone I know except my sister- the realtor), on vacations to Hawaii or closer beaches, the mountains, to visit family members even when she was in a wheelchair. She did not deserve to have Parksinsons - a nasty, cruel, slow, torturous disease. It was hard for the siblings to deal with when she seemed to give up long before she had to but disease can be like that - making you question "Why bother? I'm gonna die anyway."

The last five years or so primarily my sister took charge of Mom's well-being. Mom lived with sis until her health requirements became a 24-hour challenge that no one person can handle, especially since sis had a job and a family of her own to care for. I tried to alleviate some of the burden by "taking evenings" getting Mom ready for bed, chatting about the day, making sure she got her meds, reloading the pill containers. After awhile, we both were just not enough.

The last two years and some, Mom was in a nursing home. Sis and I visited a couple of times a week each, sometimes more. We brought food, snacks, new clothes, did her laundry, took her out whenever she'd let us for "joy trips" or just wheeled on down to the Baskin Robbins for some Cherries Jubilee ice cream. Little brother would take her out to breakfasts with his wife and kids - Mom loved seeing the kids. We'd get calls, sometimes several a day each, with some complaint about her pills being late, no one coming to help her eat, no one coming to help her to the bathroom. Sis and I soon were on a first-name basis with most of the staff and supervisors.

Then October 2009 - her digestive system started failing. We didn't know this, of course, until she became so severely impacted twice that she was hospitalized.

We came to learn that Hospice may be good for those who sincerely no longer want any treatment at all but it truly sucks if you are dying and don't want to remain impacted (which is very painful) and drugged (which doesn't help with the impaction). Sis, my brother and I had to fight (firmly and politely) with doctors, with nurses, with Hospice to get Mom the help and relief she needed.

The second time she was hospitalized she said the same thing to each of us, privately, separately: "Individually or collectively, I want you to kill me. I want to die." A note to parents of children everywhere: never ask your kid to kill you. It only hurts them and there's no way they can throw away the rest of their lives to end yours. Just sayin'.

She got her wish though: the doctors told us that she would have to be fed by a tube in her stomach and she would need to have her stomach pumped every couple of days -- and she'd still die because her digestive system had crashed.

We brought her home. Hospice delivered a broken bed - and did nothing to repair or replace it. Hospice sent a nurse who looked like she'd been shooting up or hadn't slept in a month and who also had not even looked at Mom's medical folder. This was highly evident when she suggested Mom take a stool softener for her discomfort. Yeah, that'll fix a crashed digestive system. Sent that one home.

Luckily, the night Hospice nurse was as excellent as the first was awful. She put Mom on a catheter.

And Goddess bless Dr. Fishman who sis called and who gave us the run down on what to expect over the next couple of days.

The first day old friends and family came to visit her. She ate some, including her favorite Cherries Jubilee ice cream. The second day she didn't eat much, slept a lot, but didn't seem to be in much pain. The third night she was moaning in her sleep. Sis was sleeping on the couch next to Mom's bed. When sis told me this, I insisted on staying the night with her. I'm glad I did. Mom died that night with all of her surviving children with her. She was baptized in the Catholic Church by a very kind priest. Even though she was barely conscious most of the time, she was still able to recite the Lord's Prayer and that is some of kind of wonderful. She beamed when he announced she was baptised and all her sins were forgiven. My sister is an amazing person that it occurred to her to call a priest so "Mom can go to the same place as Roni" (our other sister who was killed 28 years ago). That was pretty much the last time we saw her smile.

It's taken a few months to recover. Having had the weight of responsibility on us for so long, the sudden lifting away of the responsibility and availability of more time for ourselves and our families was kind of dizzying - and we were already numb.

My mom, Nancy, was a good woman, a kind soul, and a darn successful realtor and business owner. She rocked and she knew it.

Now you know it, too.

And we can all continue to move on the best way that we can.