Mom's Last Days - Weepy Wednesday, episode 9

Mom on Christmas 1984. She hated getting her picture taken, and this is one of the rare ones where she's smiling. 

During the past nine years, I’ve shared bits and pieces of the last days that my mom was alive, but I don’t think I ever told the whole story. I dug it out from my journal and here it finally is.

Sunday, January 15, 2017, we brought Mom over for lunch with a few of Hubby's family members. My mom and his mom had a good visit, and it was a good day.

The next day, Monday, the 16th, Mom called me at noon to tell me that she was vomiting and felt weaker than usual. She sounded horrible, so I told her to see if my brother could take her to the ER, and if not, she should call 911.

My brother brought her into the ER, and they checked her over. The only thing wrong with her tests was that her calcium was elevated. The ER doctor told her to stop her calcium supplement and sent her home.

I left work a little early, took her home, and tried to get her to eat something. She wanted a hamburger from McDonald's, so I ran and got one and picked up the Zofran script the ER doc had sent in. She threw up the hamburger, so I gave her a Zofran and stayed until she got ready for bed. Then, I stopped to see her the next two nights, until she came in to see her regular doctor for a recheck on Thursday.

She still looked pretty crummy on Thursday, just as weak, still a little nauseated, and getting confused. She was also dehydrated by then, so her doctor admitted her for IV fluids and observation.

She did okay over the weekend, but never really got much strength back, so on Monday, the 23rd, they sent her to the nursing home for rehab.

She did all right in the nursing home, had good days and bad days. Griped about a lot of stuff (the food, the staff, the other residents) to my sister and me, but she remained sweet as pie to everyone else, which has been her modus operandi for a long time.

Then on Monday, February 6, her insurance company gave her the final heave-ho; they were kicking her out on Thursday. We got home health set up to do an eval, ordered the Lifeline, and made an appointment with ADRC. I planned on staying with her for the weekend to make sure she didn't fall, that she was eating, and that she was doing okay.

By the next morning, she had decided that this wasn't going to work; she wanted to go back to the nursing home. She was just so weak and frail. She'd also been having pain in her hip, and it was getting worse. She had been taking Tylenol or Tramadol as needed, but I started giving it to her on a schedule, so that the pain didn't escalate.

Oh, and her little arthritic fingers were not strong enough to push the Lifeline button if she needed to, so there was no way she could stay home alone at all.

The home health nurse came on Saturday to see what they could offer, but they agreed she couldn't stay home without 24/7 care. I called the nursing home, but because it was the weekend, they couldn't admit her until Monday.

I stayed with her over the weekend, with my brother or sister relieving me for about four hours each day, so I could come home, unwind, take a shower, and try to get a quick nap in my own bed. I'd been trying to sleep on Mom's loveseat, and she also keeps her apartment at 85 degrees, so no matter how hard I tried to get comfortable, it wasn't happening.

Monday morning, she was in more pain, and she clearly had an infection in one of her fingers. It was a challenge, and I tried not to push her, but we finally made it to the nursing home by ten, when they were expecting us.

She got through that day and the next. But by Wednesday morning, the nursing home called to say the finger was even more swollen and was turning black. I told them to send her to the clinic, and her doctor would work her in, because that's what happens when your daughter works for your doctor.

When he went in to see her, I handed him hospital admission orders and told him she needed to be admitted. As soon as he saw her, he agreed. But because of paperwork and stupid computers, it was another hour before I wheeled her over to the hospital and helped the nurse there clean her up and settle her in bed.

Two hours later, my doctor came out of his office and told me, "The hospital just called." He paused. "Your mom just passed away." He was more shocked than I was. I saw this coming.

Hubby snuck this picture of Mom and me when she was in the hospital on Jan 22.