My Mom is Gone

My mother passed away today.

This afternoon, as my students were selecting choice time activities, I received a text on my phone.

Later, when I was able to view it, I saw it was from Alice. It read: JENNY AM SORRY THE TIME HAS COME AND SHE IS RESTING IN PEACE NOW

I was shocked. Even though I was so prepared, I couldn’t believe that it was possibly true that my mother was gone. Without thinking, I walked out of my classroom and dialed Alice’s number. As I spoke to her, questioning and re-questioning, I wandered into my principal’s office and took the hand of our amazingly understanding parent coordinator, Amy. As Amy and Anna realized what was happening at that moment, they both stopped working and turned their attention to me, hugging me and making a plan for how to cover Jonathan and me so that we could leave school and go to my mother’s house.

Elsa was at my mother’s house, in tears, when we arrived.

Then, a series of extraordinary events followed. I will describe these in another post.

For now, I want to say that in my experience, I agree with those who have said that one is never fully prepared for the passing of a loved one. I believed that I was very prepared, yet when my mother actually died, I was completely unprepared to experience the feelings that flowed into my body.

I also understand how all of the anger and frustration some people feel towards a loved one disappears upon death. I feel only loss and sorrow now, rather than anger and resentment towards my mother. And I’m sure, soon, I will remember her as the perfect person, make excuses for her behaviors, and describe her in completely new and different ways than I have in the past.

When I arrived at my mother’s house, her body was warm and she lay peacefully in her bed. She was no longer attached to her oxygen machine, so the room was quiet, other than the music that was playing on her iTunes, and she appeared to be sleeping, but without breathing. As the afternoon wore on, my mother became colder and stiffer, as we waited for the funeral home folks to come and remove her body-a strikingly emotional event.

I kissed her head, held her hands and said goodbye.

Each of us spent a few private moments with her to say goodbye.

I have lots more to tell, so numerous posts will follow. But I wanted to update this blog for the folks in similar situations who follow me and need to know what will happen and what comes next.

Thank you all for your support and interest.

End of Life Journal

I wish I had kept better records for a time-line of my mother’s illness as a resource for others. I am constantly researching on the web for the ‘next things I can expect’ on this journey I am experiencing with my mother.

Many of us want to know, “When will this end? How much time does she have left? When should a sit-and-be-with-vigil begin?” I want to be there for her, but there have been so many scares that turned out to be nothing…

I’ll try to briefly summarize my mother’s illness timeline:

January, 2014       diagnosed with IPF

March, 2014       hired geriatric social worker; hired full time live in nurse to assist

May, 2014       Last visit to primary care physician; given 6 months ballpark

Late spring       Enrolled in Visiting Nurse Program: PT, OT, Speech and Behavior support

Summer, 2014       confined to wheelchair; dementia evident; numerous behaviors surfaced

August, 2014       entered Hospice program

October 3              began morphine for comfort

Late October       complete incontinence began

Early November              24 hour care necessary

November 14       asleep, for 3 days, non-verbal, minimal food; first full prescribed dose of morphine; hospice nurse called in to check vitals, BPM dropped to 14 from 20+;

                             Mom called out to her dead father, “Daddy, wait for me!” all night long;

Today I visited. I noticed some reaction to what I said, “Your sister’s coming tomorrow, won’t that be nice?” with eyeball movement, frowns and vulnerable expressions. She also pulled her hands away from my touch more than once, which I thought was interesting. It feels like my mother hates me, even in her dying state. But I can’t believe that’s the case. She’s full of morphine-who knows what she is thinking and feeling?

I also called Hospice today to try to learn what happens after…?

It is not necessary to call 911 or to have the patient/body transferred to a hospital. We no longer have to be ‘pronounced dead’ in NY. The coroner no longer needs to come.

We call Hospice. We call the doctor. The doctor files a report to the city online. Then a death certificate is created. The funeral home orders the certificate and copies for the family. It’s best to get extras for various institutions that will need it.

I post all that I learn in the hope that it will help someone.

I must be an idiot!

I am a 56 year old woman. I am experienced. I am educated. I am not “well read” but I have read a book or two. I am in close contact with intelligent women. I teach six year olds and a large part of our curriculum is to give children language and tools to stand up to aggressive or assertive children who intimidate them. I have words at my disposal, I have skills, I have perspective and I have experience.

And yet, I am being bullied by my 22 year-old daughter.

And I am sick of it.

Tonight, I rehearsed things to say to her the next time she is being icky, aggressive or exceptionally critical.

I can start with the basic:

“STOP IT” or “GET OUT OF HERE!”

The natural follow up to this is:

“I DON’T’ LIKE IT WHEN YOU SPEAK TO ME THIS WAY.”

Then I can hit her with:

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

and the classic

“ARE YOU THE BOSS OF ME?”

If all of these fails, I’ll counter with,

“YOU ARE NOT INVITED TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY,”

a sure heart piercer!