My whole world is falling apart. Mom was my anchor, my purpose in life. I have been viciously severed from that stability...now I am adrift in the horrific, churning waters of reality in a rickety boat that isn't going to last much longer. I do know how to swim...I just don't know how long I will be able to keep my head above water...or want to...
There is a detachment from my surroundings going on right now...the whole world is moving at regular speed and I am moving like centuries old, inert molasses. I am aware of sound, but not really hearing it. I am aware that there are things around me, but I'm not really seeing them. I'm moving, but I don't really remember how I got from one room to the next. I'm smiling about something that reminds me of Mom one moment and sobbing uncontrollably the next. I want to curl up in a ball and sleep for a year. I never truly understood what the word 'exhausted' meant until now.
I have always heard there are seven stages of grief...right now I would say I'm at stage one - shock and denial. I have this overwhelming urge to walk to the nursing home to pick up her dirty laundry, even though I know she is no longer there. I keep thinking she is going to run out of things to wear if I don't, or that her clothes will be sent down the chute to the laundry room, never to be seen again. It is taking everything within me to keep myself from going there...I keep hoping there's a slight chance that this has all been some kind of sick, horrible, terrible mistake...that I will climb the stairs to the second floor, go to room 203 and there'll she be, her face all lit up with happiness the second she catches sight of me...
But...I saw her body. I stood next to her while she lay lifeless on the gurney, her face uncharacteristically expressionless, her left eye open slightly and sightless in death. I kept waiting for her to sit up, laugh, smile, hug me, kiss me on the cheek, and start singing that silly song of ours. I kept waiting for her to see me...to know that I was there so that I could watch her eyes light up one more time at the sight of me...
I am in agony. I thought I was scared shitless before with everything that was going on, but now, the only person that ever truly loved me unconditionally has left me behind on this earth. I belong to no one now...no one will ever care about what happens to me again, not like Mom did. I feel like a stray animal, pathetically crying outside of people's houses, begging for someone, anyone to care. I am cold, lonely, and frightened out of my wits. I know it's only a matter of time. I am going to die out here.
I sacrificed everything because of my family. I never married, never had children. I was too busy trying to fix what was broken, to be the good daughter/sister, to put all of the pieces back together again and make things better than they were before. Yes, I did right by my mom. I was there for her. I took care of her until I couldn't care for her anymore. I helped her get her finances back in order, got her out of the debt my brother had gotten her into (except for the Home Equity Loan, which I will blame him for even after I die) and thought at long last, we would be free to enjoy the years she had left in this world. Then she got sick..so very sick...and all of our dreams and plans died along with her independence, her ability to breathe, and her forced admission into that god-awful nursing home...
There are so many things that terrify me about this I don't even know where to begin. I have never known fear like this...my last refuge has been ripped away from me. There is nowhere left to run to, nowhere left to hide. I am naked, exposed, and utterly helpless. The vultures are already circling...they will not wait for me to die. They are swooping in en masse to rip the flesh from my bones while I am still alive...and in depraved indifference, no one will acknowledge my screams. They are leaving me to my fate with no compassion, no remorse, no guilt. This isn't their problem, and there isn't anything in it for them if they do get involved, so why bother? This world is a cold, cruel, heartless place. It's truly every man for himself.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
March 10, 2011 - The Shit Hits The Fan
Furious doesn't begin to cut it. I flew out of that f*cking room and raised all holy hell, and she STILL sat there for nearly an hour before they got around to her. I don't even know how long she had been sitting there in that condition before I even got there. Of all the days to forget my f*cking camera...the look of humiliation on her face was enough to make me want to break these motherf*ckers in two. If I ever go missing from Facebook, it is because I am in jail...
It's Illinois, and we've already tried the Ombudsman route. The thing is, the patient is the one that has to make the complaint for them to have any power to help. My mom doesn't want to trouble anybody. Today she said to me, "Calm down Becky, you're going to make these people hate me." There was fear in her eyes. That did it. "No" I soothed..."I'm going to make them hate ME." Then I made it very clear to them not to push me any farther, that they would never know when I was going to be around from now on, and that if anyone dares to be fool enough to take their frustrations out on my mother in any way, shape or form as a result of my complaints that I will have their license.
She has no freaking legs below the knees for crying out loud. What do they expect her to do, sprout new ones? She would love to be able to take care of her own needs like she used to, but it just isn't possible. Even when they've put her prosthetic limbs on, her lungs are so f*cked up she's gasping for breath after a couple of steps. She has no stamina, she's unsteady and weak. They know she can't do anything about it, so they just let her sit there in her own filth?!? NO F*CKING WAY. Her dignity and self-esteem took a huge enough hit as it is with the loss of her independence, her home, and now this shit?! Bloody f*cking hell.
All they care about are the checks they get. These people are just another body in a bed that gets them more money, and believe me, I will take care of her. Every member of the Administration in that building has had a long talk with me about these issues before...they know who I am, and they know I'm not going to back off until they do right by my mother. To all of you who have my back on this...thank you from the bottom of my heart. ♥ I will give my mom a hug for you all, after I'm done kicking the crap out of everyone else. :)
Friday, April 22, 2011
I Knew This Day Would Come...
Well...the inevitable has happened. I am sorry to say that my beloved mother left this world on Tuesday, April 19th, 2011. I am beyond devastated...especially since there are things that are just not adding up. I know she was a very sick lady...but I have this nagging feeling that mistakes were made. Since she has been cremated, all I have are the recounting of all of the things that happened during her stay in that nursing home.
Saturday...I walked the seven blocks to the nursing home to pick up her laundry. She was sound asleep; I quietly gathered her clothes. She cried out in pain in her sleep, which was alarming, but not unusual. I left. Later that same day, I brought her clean clothes back for her. She was still asleep, her full dinner tray sitting next to her bed. She cried out in pain and sat up. "Mama!" I said..."Are you okay? How come you haven't eaten any of your dinner?" "Oh I've been eating" she said as she picked up her fork and started pushing food around on her plate. I took her plastic pitchers across the hall to the kitchen to fill them with fresh ice water. I was gone less than a minute. She was sound asleep again by the time I got back.
I turned to the two aides that were in the room. "How long has she been like this?" I asked them. They shrugged. "She's been making those funny noises all day." "All day? Once in a while is normal...that is not normal" I said. "Did it ever occur to you to be a tad more concerned about that?" Again with the shrugs, so I went out in the hall to talk to the nurse. "My mom seems to be a lot more tired than usual." "Well, she was complaining of pain, so I gave her ........" At this point, she names off a narcotic pain pill. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head in alarm. "No no NO!" I say to her..."she is only supposed to have Tylenol for pain! Her doctor would never approve of a narcotic pain pill...the one's that make you drowsy also slow down your breathing...and her breathing is compromised enough as it is. Please, do NOT give her anymore of those...only Tylenol!"
I also mentioned to her that mom was looking a little more bloated than usual, so I asked her to check and see if she was still on both Furosemide and Spironolactone. She said mom was only on the Furosemide. She said she would call the doctor on Monday to find out if she was still supposed to be taking it. I left with a nagging feeling that all was not well. How I wish I had trusted it and gone back to see her sooner...
Tuesday morning at 6:30, the phone rings. The nurse had gone in to give mom her medicine. Her eyes were open, but she was non-responsive. The ambulance was called, and had left only moments before to take her to the hospital. I scrambled to find someone to take me, as I have no car. I called my brother and told him to get there as fast as he could, because this time, I had been assured that she was not going to make it. We arrived at almost exactly the same time and were shown straight into the Family Room. I knew right then that it wasn't going to be good news. The ER nurse came in and told us what we already knew...Mom was gone.
My brother and I were shown in to see her. I was so used to seeing her face light up with such joy when I walked into a room. Her face remained uncharacteristically expressionless; lifeless. Still in shock, I pulled up a chair, stroked her forehead, and sang our special song to her one last time...the song we used to goof around and sing together to make each other laugh: "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you *air kiss*, won't you say you love me too. I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, a hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep about you...about you...'cause I love you, a bushel and a peck, you betch'ur pretty neck I do...doodle doodle doo doo, doodle doodle doo doo, doodle doodle doo doo doo..." Of course, I sobbed through the whole thing, so it was all off key, which was technically no different from normal.
I kissed her on the forehead, then left my brother some time alone to say goodbye to her in his own way. We waited in the family room for the clergy to come...our mom was raised Catholic, so I thought she might appreciate a blessing and/or a prayer, even though she hadn't been to church in years. While we were waiting, the ER got busy. By the time the clergy got to us, Mom had already been taken down to the morgue. I looked at my brother. "We have to do this...for her."
We were taken down to the basement and through some double-doors. There Mom lay on her gurney in front of the doors to the cooler, her white body-bag zipped down half-way, her I.D. tag in place at the corner. They had covered her with a sheet up to her neck...her face was already starting to take on a mottled appearance. We sucked it up and made it through the blessing and the prayer. I kissed her on the forehead one last time, and gently squeezed my way down her left arm until I could feel her hand. I waited for her to squeeze it back...even though I knew she never would again.
I was driven to the nursing home to find out if any funeral homes would help us, since we are indigent. It was at this point in time I was to discover that Mom had been struggling with her breathing all weekend. In my distress, I was too addled to realize what I was being told. Here I lived only seven blocks away. They had my phone number. She was in distress all weekend, and they didn't think about making a phone call and saying something like "Your mom has been in a lot of distress with her breathing all weekend...you might want to come and see her...just in case..." I've got news for you. If they had been giving her that narcotic pain pill all weekend, then I can tell you EXACTLY why she was having a lot of distress with her breathing all weekend... Once that possibility hit me, I almost went out of my mind with rage. Yes, Mom was a very sick lady, but if they seriously compromised her ability to breathe by giving her a medication she wasn't even supposed to have...
I tried to call a lawyer about it, but before I even got to finish explaining anything, he cut me off and said he wouldn't be able to help me...that I needed to call the state health department instead. Thus begins another endless round of fruitless telephone calls to people who really don't give a damn...and I need someone to take this seriously. I honestly believe that Mom would still be here right now if she had not been given those pain pills. Why won't anybody listen to me?!?!?
I love you Mama. You weren't just my mother, you were my friend. I miss you so much. :'(((((
Saturday...I walked the seven blocks to the nursing home to pick up her laundry. She was sound asleep; I quietly gathered her clothes. She cried out in pain in her sleep, which was alarming, but not unusual. I left. Later that same day, I brought her clean clothes back for her. She was still asleep, her full dinner tray sitting next to her bed. She cried out in pain and sat up. "Mama!" I said..."Are you okay? How come you haven't eaten any of your dinner?" "Oh I've been eating" she said as she picked up her fork and started pushing food around on her plate. I took her plastic pitchers across the hall to the kitchen to fill them with fresh ice water. I was gone less than a minute. She was sound asleep again by the time I got back.
I turned to the two aides that were in the room. "How long has she been like this?" I asked them. They shrugged. "She's been making those funny noises all day." "All day? Once in a while is normal...that is not normal" I said. "Did it ever occur to you to be a tad more concerned about that?" Again with the shrugs, so I went out in the hall to talk to the nurse. "My mom seems to be a lot more tired than usual." "Well, she was complaining of pain, so I gave her ........" At this point, she names off a narcotic pain pill. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head in alarm. "No no NO!" I say to her..."she is only supposed to have Tylenol for pain! Her doctor would never approve of a narcotic pain pill...the one's that make you drowsy also slow down your breathing...and her breathing is compromised enough as it is. Please, do NOT give her anymore of those...only Tylenol!"
I also mentioned to her that mom was looking a little more bloated than usual, so I asked her to check and see if she was still on both Furosemide and Spironolactone. She said mom was only on the Furosemide. She said she would call the doctor on Monday to find out if she was still supposed to be taking it. I left with a nagging feeling that all was not well. How I wish I had trusted it and gone back to see her sooner...
Tuesday morning at 6:30, the phone rings. The nurse had gone in to give mom her medicine. Her eyes were open, but she was non-responsive. The ambulance was called, and had left only moments before to take her to the hospital. I scrambled to find someone to take me, as I have no car. I called my brother and told him to get there as fast as he could, because this time, I had been assured that she was not going to make it. We arrived at almost exactly the same time and were shown straight into the Family Room. I knew right then that it wasn't going to be good news. The ER nurse came in and told us what we already knew...Mom was gone.
My brother and I were shown in to see her. I was so used to seeing her face light up with such joy when I walked into a room. Her face remained uncharacteristically expressionless; lifeless. Still in shock, I pulled up a chair, stroked her forehead, and sang our special song to her one last time...the song we used to goof around and sing together to make each other laugh: "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you *air kiss*, won't you say you love me too. I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, a hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep about you...about you...'cause I love you, a bushel and a peck, you betch'ur pretty neck I do...doodle doodle doo doo, doodle doodle doo doo, doodle doodle doo doo doo..." Of course, I sobbed through the whole thing, so it was all off key, which was technically no different from normal.
I kissed her on the forehead, then left my brother some time alone to say goodbye to her in his own way. We waited in the family room for the clergy to come...our mom was raised Catholic, so I thought she might appreciate a blessing and/or a prayer, even though she hadn't been to church in years. While we were waiting, the ER got busy. By the time the clergy got to us, Mom had already been taken down to the morgue. I looked at my brother. "We have to do this...for her."
We were taken down to the basement and through some double-doors. There Mom lay on her gurney in front of the doors to the cooler, her white body-bag zipped down half-way, her I.D. tag in place at the corner. They had covered her with a sheet up to her neck...her face was already starting to take on a mottled appearance. We sucked it up and made it through the blessing and the prayer. I kissed her on the forehead one last time, and gently squeezed my way down her left arm until I could feel her hand. I waited for her to squeeze it back...even though I knew she never would again.
I was driven to the nursing home to find out if any funeral homes would help us, since we are indigent. It was at this point in time I was to discover that Mom had been struggling with her breathing all weekend. In my distress, I was too addled to realize what I was being told. Here I lived only seven blocks away. They had my phone number. She was in distress all weekend, and they didn't think about making a phone call and saying something like "Your mom has been in a lot of distress with her breathing all weekend...you might want to come and see her...just in case..." I've got news for you. If they had been giving her that narcotic pain pill all weekend, then I can tell you EXACTLY why she was having a lot of distress with her breathing all weekend... Once that possibility hit me, I almost went out of my mind with rage. Yes, Mom was a very sick lady, but if they seriously compromised her ability to breathe by giving her a medication she wasn't even supposed to have...
I tried to call a lawyer about it, but before I even got to finish explaining anything, he cut me off and said he wouldn't be able to help me...that I needed to call the state health department instead. Thus begins another endless round of fruitless telephone calls to people who really don't give a damn...and I need someone to take this seriously. I honestly believe that Mom would still be here right now if she had not been given those pain pills. Why won't anybody listen to me?!?!?
I love you Mama. You weren't just my mother, you were my friend. I miss you so much. :'(((((
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