A few days before Thanksgiving, my mom called me and said, "Now don't freak out, but I'm in the hospital. I need some kind of heart surgery." After numerous visits to doctors and lots of phone calls to my-cousin-the-doctor, Mom decided to refuse the risky open heart surgery and "let nature take its course." She absolutely HATED the hospital and didn't want to be in a nursing home for months of recovery. She kept after the doctors until they finally released her and sent her home in a cab! Everyone was shocked, and tried to talk her into changing her mind, but... no success. Since The Pacific Ocean separates us, I hadn't seen her since August, three months before. At that time, she was having trouble with back pain and couldn't walk far, but I got her a wheel chair and we went to the zoo, out to eat, talked, laughed, and things seemed fairly normal to me, except for the herniated disk which she refused to do anything about... acupuncture, chiropractic, surgery... She never told me about heart problems, lung problems, etc. That's how my mom was. She didn't want to burdon anyone with her problems. She didn't want me to worry.
When I found out about the heart problems, I asked her repeatedly if she needed me to come, but she said she was fine and had plenty of help from the home care nurse, the neighbor, her friends, and my sister-in-law. Mom was surprisingly happy, and told me that I "had her around for a long time" (She was 77) so things were OK. We talked on the phone every morning about school, the kids, etc. Mom would never talk about herself, and changed the subject every time I asked. I asked my SIL if she was taking anti-depressants, and my suspicions were confirmed. Other people told me that my mom wasn't doing too well. She was on oxygen and couldn't get around easily. I made arrangements to fly to her ASAP, but by the time I got there, she had been taken back to the hospital when a neighbor found her incoherant and in distress. When I saw her, her arms were in restraints since she was trying with all of her might to escape from the hospital. She was repeatedly screaming, softly, but screaming with all the might she had. It was hell on earth to be there. She wanted to die at home, but there she was, in the hospital again. I talked to her, I held her hand, and she squeezed it hard for a while, then pushed it away in a wild gesture as if to say, "I know you're here, but now it's time to go." 50 years of cigarette smoking had screwed up her heart and lungs so badly that she was totally out of it. (The doctor's words.) The heart couldn't pump, the lungs weren't working, her brain didn't get the oxygen it needed to function, and all systems were shutting down. She had a living will and had requested that she not be kept alive by heroic means when she was terminally ill. We made arrangements for her to be given medication to keep her calm and free of pain. She was to be transferred to a beautiful hospice home by the lake the next day, but she died that night. I spent a total of two weeks there crying, meeting with her friends, answering phone calls, and I calling places like the Social Security office. I finally made it home and had Christmas with my dh, dd, and ds. Now everyone's back to school and work, and I'm here feeling like my heart has been ripped out and stomped on. I'm faced with hospital bills and stacks of papers to fill out. This is such an empty feeling of being left in the dust. Thanks for listening.
When I found out about the heart problems, I asked her repeatedly if she needed me to come, but she said she was fine and had plenty of help from the home care nurse, the neighbor, her friends, and my sister-in-law. Mom was surprisingly happy, and told me that I "had her around for a long time" (She was 77) so things were OK. We talked on the phone every morning about school, the kids, etc. Mom would never talk about herself, and changed the subject every time I asked. I asked my SIL if she was taking anti-depressants, and my suspicions were confirmed. Other people told me that my mom wasn't doing too well. She was on oxygen and couldn't get around easily. I made arrangements to fly to her ASAP, but by the time I got there, she had been taken back to the hospital when a neighbor found her incoherant and in distress. When I saw her, her arms were in restraints since she was trying with all of her might to escape from the hospital. She was repeatedly screaming, softly, but screaming with all the might she had. It was hell on earth to be there. She wanted to die at home, but there she was, in the hospital again. I talked to her, I held her hand, and she squeezed it hard for a while, then pushed it away in a wild gesture as if to say, "I know you're here, but now it's time to go." 50 years of cigarette smoking had screwed up her heart and lungs so badly that she was totally out of it. (The doctor's words.) The heart couldn't pump, the lungs weren't working, her brain didn't get the oxygen it needed to function, and all systems were shutting down. She had a living will and had requested that she not be kept alive by heroic means when she was terminally ill. We made arrangements for her to be given medication to keep her calm and free of pain. She was to be transferred to a beautiful hospice home by the lake the next day, but she died that night. I spent a total of two weeks there crying, meeting with her friends, answering phone calls, and I calling places like the Social Security office. I finally made it home and had Christmas with my dh, dd, and ds. Now everyone's back to school and work, and I'm here feeling like my heart has been ripped out and stomped on. I'm faced with hospital bills and stacks of papers to fill out. This is such an empty feeling of being left in the dust. Thanks for listening.
she sounds like a heckuva woman!
