End of Life Issues
Last night I asked Mom to "come back." I asked God to let us have her for a little while longer, but I don't know if He's going to answer that prayer. I told her we needed her and missed her and I meant it. I grieved today in the car listening to a program featuring "Be Still My Soul" by Selah being sung at the funeral of a baby lost before it left the hospital.
God brought me here for this, tugged at me for three years to get here. I got here and 6 months later, Dad was in the nursing home. God gave me a lot of good time with him. I got some time with Mom when she was in rehab at Lexington Park and Plaza West. She seems to be going downhill now at St. Francis with pneumonia and finally with a feeding tube, inserted yesterday morning. For four days, she has been very distant. I read on an "end of life signs" web posting that being difficult to interact with is a sign of dying.
Both of my parents were in the hospital at the same time last week when my brother David was here, so he got to see them, possibly for the last time. He said he got his moments of closeness with Dad, and that Dad said his name, which was a huge comfort to him. Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's over a decade ago.
Dad had looked so terrible when he started the most recent decline, I did not think he looked like he wanted to be in his body anymore. I asked him if he could hold on until David came in a couple of weeks.
"That's a long time," he had said.
David had seen him sitting sideways in the recliner in his room the day before he fell. Naturally, we assume he fell from the recliner.
Alice said she thinks people go into some sort of state of shock when their loved ones are dying, so I often ask myself, "Am I in shock?" As I try to recall the events of the past week, it is difficult for me to sort it out, but basically, Friday, a week ago (Jan. 7, 2011) Mom went into emergency at St. Francis. The following Sunday, Jan. 9, my dad fell and fractured his hip and went into Stormont-Vail.
David commented that it was ironic, kind of like when Dad was living southwest of Topeka and Mom was living northeast of Topeka, approximately equidistant from town. One in one hospital, the other in the other. They were divorced in 1957. But these synchronous events make it seem as if there was something psychic or spiritual connecting them. Maybe it was just about the part of us as their children wanting them to be together still in some way. And they could, after all, both be on the verge of leaving their earthly bodies.
I have been trying to read the book called How We Die by Sherwin Nuland. I have read part of it, not all. I want to go home and read it some more. I also want to go see Mom again but I haven't seen Dad yet. I don't want Dad to be asleep when I get there, so I should leave soon. maybe I am in shock.
When I went to see Mom, she was quiet again. She has been acting very strangely for the past four days. Her vitals are OK, they say, but she has pneumonia, which supposedly got a little better overnight. But she had had nothing in her stomach for eight days, just a tube in her arm. She has been very unresponsive, just either sleeping or looking at you with a blank stare. She can barely talk but seems to be able to when she wants to.
Spiritually, I think she's all right, but again, my expectations are being shattered by reality. I always thought someone who was at peace with Jesus, as she said she was, would want to speak gently with loved ones or hold their hand or want them to pray or read the Bible with them, but she has said "no" when I've asked her. She has not done any of that. It's always "no" and "no" and "no." I prayed for her anyway and I read Psalm 46 and John 14 to her tonight. It put her to sleep. So I guess that's good. It's been very strange. I am glad we had some bonding experiences before this last hospital visit, when she was in rehab at Plaza West in December and at Lexington Place in November. Maybe it's just a matter of letting go.
Dad had hip replacement surgery Monday and pacemaker battery replacement Friday. He has been in some pain and is on pain medication but he is still recognizing me and in good spirits. Wish my mother was in good spirits.
Everybody goes through this at one time or another, the death of a parent. Some just do it suddenly, I guess, and like everything else, it's different for everybody. I think I really must be in shock (or something) because I am just living moment by moment and kind of fixated on this as if I could do anything about anything.
I read on one of the web sites about the "five tasks of dying." You can look them up, but basically saying goodbye is included. I haven't done that yet. I hope to see both of them in heaven. I only know to keep asking God what should I say and do all the time.
So much sorrow and tragedy in this world. Can I lighten anybody's load? That's what I want to do. I pray God will teach me how.
I got to go. I know this is not good writing.
Love, Carolyn
God brought me here for this, tugged at me for three years to get here. I got here and 6 months later, Dad was in the nursing home. God gave me a lot of good time with him. I got some time with Mom when she was in rehab at Lexington Park and Plaza West. She seems to be going downhill now at St. Francis with pneumonia and finally with a feeding tube, inserted yesterday morning. For four days, she has been very distant. I read on an "end of life signs" web posting that being difficult to interact with is a sign of dying.
Both of my parents were in the hospital at the same time last week when my brother David was here, so he got to see them, possibly for the last time. He said he got his moments of closeness with Dad, and that Dad said his name, which was a huge comfort to him. Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's over a decade ago.
Dad had looked so terrible when he started the most recent decline, I did not think he looked like he wanted to be in his body anymore. I asked him if he could hold on until David came in a couple of weeks.
"That's a long time," he had said.
David had seen him sitting sideways in the recliner in his room the day before he fell. Naturally, we assume he fell from the recliner.
Alice said she thinks people go into some sort of state of shock when their loved ones are dying, so I often ask myself, "Am I in shock?" As I try to recall the events of the past week, it is difficult for me to sort it out, but basically, Friday, a week ago (Jan. 7, 2011) Mom went into emergency at St. Francis. The following Sunday, Jan. 9, my dad fell and fractured his hip and went into Stormont-Vail.
David commented that it was ironic, kind of like when Dad was living southwest of Topeka and Mom was living northeast of Topeka, approximately equidistant from town. One in one hospital, the other in the other. They were divorced in 1957. But these synchronous events make it seem as if there was something psychic or spiritual connecting them. Maybe it was just about the part of us as their children wanting them to be together still in some way. And they could, after all, both be on the verge of leaving their earthly bodies.
I have been trying to read the book called How We Die by Sherwin Nuland. I have read part of it, not all. I want to go home and read it some more. I also want to go see Mom again but I haven't seen Dad yet. I don't want Dad to be asleep when I get there, so I should leave soon. maybe I am in shock.
When I went to see Mom, she was quiet again. She has been acting very strangely for the past four days. Her vitals are OK, they say, but she has pneumonia, which supposedly got a little better overnight. But she had had nothing in her stomach for eight days, just a tube in her arm. She has been very unresponsive, just either sleeping or looking at you with a blank stare. She can barely talk but seems to be able to when she wants to.
Spiritually, I think she's all right, but again, my expectations are being shattered by reality. I always thought someone who was at peace with Jesus, as she said she was, would want to speak gently with loved ones or hold their hand or want them to pray or read the Bible with them, but she has said "no" when I've asked her. She has not done any of that. It's always "no" and "no" and "no." I prayed for her anyway and I read Psalm 46 and John 14 to her tonight. It put her to sleep. So I guess that's good. It's been very strange. I am glad we had some bonding experiences before this last hospital visit, when she was in rehab at Plaza West in December and at Lexington Place in November. Maybe it's just a matter of letting go.
Dad had hip replacement surgery Monday and pacemaker battery replacement Friday. He has been in some pain and is on pain medication but he is still recognizing me and in good spirits. Wish my mother was in good spirits.
Everybody goes through this at one time or another, the death of a parent. Some just do it suddenly, I guess, and like everything else, it's different for everybody. I think I really must be in shock (or something) because I am just living moment by moment and kind of fixated on this as if I could do anything about anything.
I read on one of the web sites about the "five tasks of dying." You can look them up, but basically saying goodbye is included. I haven't done that yet. I hope to see both of them in heaven. I only know to keep asking God what should I say and do all the time.
So much sorrow and tragedy in this world. Can I lighten anybody's load? That's what I want to do. I pray God will teach me how.
I got to go. I know this is not good writing.
Love, Carolyn
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