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. :'(((((
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