A change for the worse

Sidney had a terrible death. Lots of pain, lots of misery. There wasn't a gentle slide, it was a bumpy tumble down a slope filled with sharp jagged boulders. His release was prayed for and welcome. Harriet has been going down a very shallow incline this past year since his death, probably even before that. She hasn't gotten out of bed in three weeks and has gotten weaker and weaker each day. Today I visited twice. She was sleeping so soundly I couldn't wake her.

Except for the one day a week my dear sister-in-law Leslie visits, I have been there every day since February. I was seeing her two or three days a week while she had the apartment. Once in a while Eri stops by and I appreciate that, too. Leslie has been a life saver taking the burden of organizing the move into the new apartment and now the moving out. When she visits Harriet on Mondays, I sleep the day away. There may be a whole list of things that must be done, but somehow I don't get out of bed until four and am back asleep by midnight. It is mental exhaustion I am sure.

Yesterday, I went out to the pool around five and was chatting with a neighbor when the phone rang. I walked over and checked the readout: Smoller. I knew Leslie would be there soon and did not answer it. I said it was my mother and I wasn't going to answer it right now. The woman said there wasn't a time in her life when she wasn't happy to hear from her mother. I saw red. She had pushed my not-good-enough button. I told her that I talked to her at least twice a day on the phone and visited daily. I said she was 98 years old and would not die. She apologized and I apologized and things are fine between us.

This morning I spent a long time on the phone with the Hospice nurse. Mom has some open sores on her back because she has no fat between her skin and bones. They are treating them. She can't swallow pills anymore, nor can she tolerate them ground up. This morning she threw up. Poor, poor, baby. Do you know what it is like to have dry heaves? Awful. By consensus we have decided to discontinue all medications. What is the worst that can happen, death? They have started her on an extremely low dose of morphine. Today I stopped by twice but couldn't rouse her from a deep sleep.

This is a definite change for the worse, physically. While I am grateful she is not suffering the way my father did, I am hoping for the welcome change, and soon.