sad days

This just has been sidelined for a long time. Again. Too much for my poor brain to hold.

My mom died on April Fool's Day, her last joke on us, one of the caregivers said. It was not a pretty journey the last few months. I see the last post here about my mom was when she broke her back. She never really recovered. That cough turned out to be a sign that her body was shutting down. Along with the endless eczema, and the increasing dementia.

Because of the cough, the doctor had me give her some Mucinex, which turned out to be a bad idea since it caused her to have hallucinations and to be unable to eat. It was a couple days before I could get them to STOP. I thought she was gone then, but she sure was a strong one, she pulled through. The facility told me I was either going to have to move her to a different facility or put her on hospice.  I chose hospice. They assured me they would not drug her.

Unfortunately they drugged her anyway. Instead of calling me, they gave her ativan and something I can't remember, which was on the list of problem drugs for her. Seems to me that "if only" I could have been there BEFORE they gave her stuff, it would have saved so much misery. They said it was NECESSARY to keep her safe. What it caused her was a lot of anger because they PROMISED her they wouldn't give her drugs. But they did.

 So her last couple weeks were full of hallucinations and screaming. She got very combative and told everyone they were trying to poison her, that I was cheating on my husband, that the place was full of prostitutes and rapists. She beat up one of the construction guys and threw water on a caregiver. I was crying and pleading with them to stop the drugs. They finally stopped. By then she was getting weak, but as long as I was there, she was ok and they didn't drug her.. So I was there all the time from then on. But by that time she wouldn't eat, it became hard to swallow, and talk. She asked me how she could die.

There were those who said I was just "in denial" but I know those last days could have been much better. It's hard... to just let it go, knowing she's gone, and I couldn't really have done anything different. Her biggest fear was being drugged and I couldn't stop it. It just makes me sad.

We had planned on moving her to another section of the facility, so we had already started packing up. Crazy. She died in the morning, and we had her totally moved out by evening.

I'm still grieving.

where was everybody... we were not alone.

My father died alone. I had been with him for hours every day. I got into the bed and snuggled with him. I talked to him. He talked to me too, until he was incoherent. I stayed and stayed. There were others who poked their heads in, constantly. His caregivers were super attentive. My mother had quit coming several days before, she couldn't deal with it, she hid out in her room. So it was only me. I was trying to care for both of them. It was hard. I couldn't be there 24/7. Some people do that. Is that a sign that you love them more? I did what I could, and I was exhausted and finally went to mom's apartment to sleep. He died in the night. The nurses told me, people often do that. They don't want to have their loved ones see their passing, so they wait until they are alone. Happens often, they said.

Now, five years later, my mom just died. I stayed with her too. I knew she was dying. I read to her, I prayed with her, I sang to her, played music, prayed some more. I would take breaks and pack up things. We were planning on moving her to a different room, so things had to be packed up, most of it couldn't go with her. So I would hear her call out, and I would go to her side again. Over and over, for days. It kind of felt like a repeat of my dad's death, except my poor mom didn't have so many have attentive caregivers. Since they knew I was there, they steered clear. Everyone knew that she didn't have long. There were a couple nurses who looked in, but when they saw me, they went out. 

My mother died alone, at about 4 in the morning. I would have been ok with that, but a couple days before, someone had said to me, "well I hope you can be there for your mom when she dies, even though you weren't there for your dad when he died". The comment was not made to hurt me, but it did. It hit me in that spot where I always tell myself I'm not enough, I'm not doing enough, I failed them...

 I am not an only child, but I have been the only child for my parents for many years...  I am the one who stayed fairly close, I am the one who moved my mom near me so I could be there daily...  and I did that gladly for them, I was glad to be able to care for them, to be there for them. 

I don't think my dad OR my mom was alone at the moment of death... God was there, his angels were there to escort them. They weren't alone. I wasn't there for either one when they died, but that doesn't mean I wasn't THERE for them.  

But in the end, it was just me. Ok, I get that. They moved far away. We have never been that close. We've had our differences. I expected that I was going to be the one to care for our parents. 

 I forgive them for leaving everything for me. I  forgive them for just wanting to look the other way and pretend there was no problem. I was the only one there for them for many years. I was rarely angry about that, until ALL the decisions got dumped in my lap... do we stop the life saving procedures? Do we continue with tube feeding? Do we treat the pneumonia again? Should Mom have another surgery? 

There was one crisis that I insisted that my brother come for. My mom survived that one. But for the rest, it was just me. I was the one screaming in the hallways when the hospital refused to admit my father when he had two broken shoulders and pneumonia. I was the one who found them a place to be when they couldn't live on their own. I was the one that took over writing checks, paying bills, making sure things were ok, that they had what they needed.

To my brother's credit, he came to see mom not long before she died. He came to visit for a few days after she moved here. We had a nice visit. She was thrilled. I was ok that he wasn't here for her death, he couldn't do anything, and he was in the middle of cancer treatments. It wasn't his fault.

 I knew that I was going to be the only one taking care of Mom. I knew that I was the only one to cream her legs every day because of the eczema. I knew I would be the one to sit at her deathbed, holding her hand, being her connection to this world, and her encouragement to join the next one. I had forgiven them for not being there. I had no anger about that at all.  Until I heard that. And at first it wasn't anger, it was guilt. I didn't do enough. I failed. I was not enough. . "Well I hope you can be there for your mom when she dies, even though you weren't there for your dad when he died" And then it was anger.

If they were so concerned that either Mom or Dad would die alone, where were they? They knew there was no one to take turns with, I was the only one. Where were they? 

Breathe, forgive, love, be thankful... 

 

Never ending card

This is a tutorial of the Never Ending card that I've been making.

https://www.splitcoaststampers.com/resources/tutorials/neverendingcard/

It's a bit of a challenge to get everything lined up just right but the more I make the better they get.
#1 a valentine

This is the front of the card. I also made envelopes to match. 

The second opening

T

The third opening

The fourth flip. The fifth flip takes you back to the beginning

The second card is a birthday card. I made the second flip the front of the card because that's the paper I had for the envelope. I like it this way too!

The first flip. I wrote a bunch of stuff between the hearts.

The second flip. I really like how this looks.

The final flip. This would have been the cover but I changed to the second flip. Confused? LOL watch the tutorial.

Back to Creating

 I've had many detours over the last few years. The latest was yesterday. I planned on staying home ALL DAY and even told my mom that was my plan, and she was wholeheartedly for the plan. However, the detour started at 5 AM.

A call from my mom's facility. My mom fell and scraped her back. She was disoriented, she was coughing. I know the cough, it's allergies. It isn't usually until spring, but it's January, and I have a sunflower blooming in my yard. Everything's blooming. An unusually mild winter. I'm sneezing nonstop and my mom coughs.

The facility was really worried about the cough and said I needed to take her in. Not so concerned about the fall. But she started complaining about pain, and soon was unable to move without pain.

I called 911 and she took an ambulance ride down the street a few blocks to the hospital. We spent 6 hours in the ER and the diagnosis.....

a broken back.

The doctor stuck his head in the door, and told me that, and that he would be back in a minute. That minute turned into more than an hour. During that time I was bawling, and telling my mom I was sorry it was ending this way, but there's not much you can do when you have fragile bones, and you're 93.

Then he comes back and says there is a tiny crack in one vertebra. No surgery. No sign of any other break. So. In the space of an hour, we're back to hope. She started sitting up. Today when I came she WALKED toward me. She said there isn't a lot of pain. Ok then. No funeral. Not yet.

SHE is NOT DONE YET

There is a certain amount of adventure with dementia. Today my mom asked me why I was cheating on my husband. ????? No mama, we're good. Remember, he sat with us all day yesterday. Oh yes that's right.

Back to creating? I hope so. Later today, maybe tomorrow. My mind is frazzled. Maybe some abstract something with a lot of color. Hmm.