I believe I mentioned in the last post that we had received some sad and unfortunate news regarding the health of Collin's mom. The hospice nurses feel that she is entering the transition stage; this is where things begin to slowly shut down. This was passed on to us Friday morning with the her life expectancy being a few days. What is a few days? I mean, I consider ALL that her poor body has somehow survived, and think that it can't just be such a finite number of days. It's now Tuesday and we have heard nothing new. This is one of the few times where no news is good news.
I love my mother in law. In many ways she has been more of a mom to me than my own. I will always remember the time her and I spent together as I learned to crochet and we watched this reality show on OPB about being pioneers... I wish I could remember the title.
When the time does come, be it days, weeks, or months (completely unrealistic), the arrangements are mostly in place thanks to the work of her steadfast sister/Collin's amazing aunt.
For now we wait. Every text message and phone call is terrifying. We knew this day would come, but at the same time we find ourselves denying it's inevitability. My thoughts feel incoherent, and I don't see them getting better when the fateful day arrives.
Upon hearing the news, my husband found himself writing out all of his thoughts, The range of emotions he went through. Sunday, he let me read what he had written and I asked if I could share this with you. There are depths to this man that never cease to amaze me. The following is completely raw, unadulterated emotions as felt by my husband upon finding out about the state of his mother's health:
It is remarkable how leading up to a life changing event you
look at it from a distance and think to yourself, “This won’t affect me, or if
it does it won’t change me,” but when you get to that point it hits you like a
train. It knocks the wind out of you and
leaves you feeling paralyzed in that moment.
Your thoughts spin like an out of control merry-go-round. Your stomach knots up. The adrenaline pumps through your
system. Emotions wash over you like
tsunami. Focus is not a skill you
possess in this moment.
When my mother was no longer capable of caring for herself,
and my father was unable to care for her we had to prepare for the fact that
eventually she was going to pass. She
lived with my sister for a while, and her and my aunt took turns caring for my
mother. I wanted to be able to help, but
I lived in a town house. It was such a
dangerous environment in such a brittle state.
I felt bad about that, and it eventually created a rift between me and
my family. I lost touch with them for a
while.
Eventually my mother was placed in a care home. They took reasonable care of her, and did
what they could to keep her occupied. My
father visited at least once a week, then once every other week. Eventually this trickled to he never showed
up again. My aunt and sister made the
effort to visit her. I had a new baby,
and a very busy work schedule. It was
difficult enough with that, and taking groceries to my father-in-law once a
month; I didn’t get to visit her, there just wasn’t any spare time.
Hospice got involved once the care facility was no longer
able to keep her weight up, or get her to eat enough. This is usually a sign in people with
dementia, or even Alzheimer’s, that their getting closer to passing. My mother was moved to a different care
facility that specialized in hospice care.
For those that don’t know what it is, hospice it a place for
people that are terminal. They can live
their days out there comfortably and be taken care of. It may not be the most glorious of locations,
but it gives you a place to be where people are there to keep you comfortable.
She’s been there for a couple of months now, and I have been
making sure to visit her every week (except when I was sick). Her weight continued to drop (this is
expected). My sister received a message
from the hospice nurse that our mother was getting worse. I tried to tell myself to prepare for it, but
there isn’t a way to prepare for it. My
sister went to speak with hospice and see our mother the next day.
I see a text on my phone.
I open it and read, “Mom is in transition phase and probably only has a
few days left.”
Did you hear it; the
train?
I didn’t either. It hit so hard. I didn’t know what to say or how to
react. Suddenly the room was quiet, time
had stopped, and nothing made sense. I
felt tingly; I had goose bumps. My mouth
was suddenly so dry; yet I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe, my thoughts spun around
in my head. I wanted to yell, and
cry. I didn’t want this to happen, not
now, not ever! Why is this happening
now? This isn’t fair! I didn’t have time to prepare!
I message my wife, “Mom is in transition and
probably only has a few days left.” I
look around and everyone is acting like nothing is happening. I can’t move or figure out what to do. Then my wife appears at my desk side and hugs
me. This feels good, but it doesn’t
change it. The moment I leave her arms
the pain rushes back in. I’m drowning
again. I want to run away from this
place. Go somewhere; somewhere
safe. Somewhere where this isn’t
happening; it isn’t true.
Then I
realize, it is happening; it is true. I
can’t change this, and I can’t run away from it. This is the thing I told myself was not going
to affect me or change me.
I was wrong;
it already has, and it will. This is the
passing of the woman that gave birth to me, and raised me. The woman I called
mother, mom, and mommy. You can’t lose
this person and not be affected by it.
It will change you because this person played an integral role in your
life; whether positive or otherwise.
Re-reading this again has me tearing up. There is not enough positive news to just brush all this feeling aside.
I'll try anyways. That's what we do in these situations, isn't it? We try to keep moving forward. We try to look for the positive and uplifting things when and where ever we can.
I am on week two of this light juicing experiment, and as promised I braved the terrifying monster that is the scale Saturday morning. From Monday morning to Saturday morning I dropped over nine pounds of bloat and god knows what else. This has definitely been a great method for getting me back on track, and that kind of drop in weight is a great motivator to keep me moving forward. It's that little bit of proof that I can keep going.
And in the world that is my professional life (I still fantasize that this will be my professional life some day; anyways...) in the six short months I have been there I have managed to work my self to the next level of the hierarchy in my department, and I have garnered myself a nice little promotion! I am happy and excited that I will be moving into an area that will keep me challenged. I'll keep you posted on how things progress there too.
And that's it. That's all I have for you tonight. I'm still not sure how it is already Tuesday, but I know it is because I watched the Walking Dead last night (I watch the day after).
Always say I love you, and never skip a chance to hug a loved one. Hopefully the next post I will be in a mindset to share the events of this past weekend, including monster baby's teething.
Good night!
No comments:
Post a Comment