When I last left ya’ll, I was planning on going to Tucson on Wednesday. That changed. Monday evening, I got a phone call from my Mom’s number, and it was actually Mom on the phone. She told me she loved me, and that she was dying. My sister then got on the phone and I told her I would be down probably Wednesday.
When I went in to work on Tuesday morning, I informed my employers that I needed to be in Tucson for an unknown length of time, and why, granted me best wishes and an advance, and told me to get out of the deli. I left Tuesday morning. As I was driving past the airport, my sister, Lynn, called me and said that they were going to transport Mom to an inpatient hospice facility to better get a handle on the pain medication issue. (the pain meds were making Mom nauseous, which made keeping any meds down impossible) Lynn said it was up to me whether I came down or not. After a second’s hesitation, I told her I would be there.
One thing about a two hour drive across the desert – you get a lot of phone calls done, and a lot of music listened to. I met Lynn at an AMPM in Tucson; I followed her to the Casa de la Luz Hospice.
When we walked into Mom’s room, she had just been settled in. She was still feeling a bit of pain, her legs mostly, and the nurse came in shortly after to start working on the fine-tuning of the meds. Mom looked at Lynn first, and smiled at her. Lynn spoke soothing and reassuring words to Mom. Then she said,”Hey, Mom, Cary’s here with me.” Mom looked over at me, and said “This is my dramatic death bed scene. How’s it going so far?” I told her she was missing the dramatic, overarching background music. Just then the CD player that I hadn’t seen started playing a new track of Beethoven. Talk about perfect timing.
Lynn and I sat with her while the pain meds were administered, and she fell into a really peaceful, deep sleep. Lynn and I left, to get some dinner, and spend some time at Mom’s home. (Lynn has been staying with Mom and taking care of her for quite a few years now, for which “Thank You” doesn’t even cover it) Lynn has been fighting a cold, and after a light supper she took some cold medicine and sat down in the living room with me, fully intending to be sociable and chat. She fell asleep, since she was also exhausted on top of the cold medicine. I went back to sit with Mom for a bit.
I walked into her room about the time she was coming up out of the med-induced nap. I said hi, and told her I loved her. She looked at me and said, “Cary? How long have you been in town?” I reminded her I had gotten in earlier that day, and that Lynn and I had already been there. She looked at me and said “You know, I am very proud of all of you. Please tell everyone that I love them. I’m dying, Cary. I just wish I could have helped LeaAnn more.” I told her that she did everything she could for LeaAnn, and she would not appreciate being someone’s last regret. Mom gave me one of her looks. I was nine again, helpless to help, and not knowing what I could do to make her comfortable. I kissed her, wished her goodnight, and told her I would see her in the morning. The nurse came in and gave her another dose of pain meds. Mom slipped back into an easy sleep, deep breathing, and pain free. I headed back to her home.
One of Mom’s last wishes was that she be able to pass at home. Our hope and prayer was that the pain meds could be fine tuned so she could be transported back to her home for her last hours.
Lynn and I met back over at the Hospice Wednesday morning, jsut before noon. Mom was slipping in and out of the medicine-caused soup, sometimes sleeping, sometimes with a little cry of pain. We sat with her, talked to her, loved on her; kissed her, stroked her face and arms (anything else caused pain) and chatted with one another. An administrator (I think it was Bonnie; please forgive me, wonderful people at Hospice, for not remembering all the names of the people who were there!) came in and said there was a phone call for Mom, and showed Lynn how to transfer the call to the room phone. Our brother, Brian, was on the phone, and talked to Mom. Mom’s face reacted, her mouth forming words, her eyes moving back and forth and her eyebrows raising and lowering as she listened, but she was unable to speak.
Mom passed shortly after, around 5:10 pm. Lynn and I had stepped out of the room, kind of wondering if our older sister was going to call also (she had said she would, but time had passed) and when we stepped back in Mom’s breathing had stopped. We tried to find a pulse on her neck, but it was not there. We looked at each other across her bed, and didn’t need to say a word. I walked out and found Bonnie, and told her that I was pretty sure Mom was gone; Bonnie said she would send in a nurse. Cheryl came in and checked, the shake of her head was all it took. We started taking turns calling family members and answering questions for the staff – they offered to wash her body and prepare it; they would call whoever they needed to (University of Arizona’s Medical School – you are getting a wonderful gift. Please treat her body with respect). Hearing our brothers and sister as they heard the news was hard; re-composing one’s self after each call before the next was difficult; the truth of the matter is that it still hasn’t sunk in all the way for me.
I spent the night at Mom’s home again, and Thursday morning I said my good byes to Lynn and headed out back to my home, reassuring Lynn that if she needed my help with anything at all to just call me, and I would get there as quickly as possible. The drive back was long and quiet, with only the music of KLOVE to keep me company.
Thank you all for keeping my family in your thoughts and prayers.
Chat ya later…