July 5, 2016. I was waked from a sound sleep at around 7:00 am by the phone. My normal wakeup time was 6:00 am, but I was on vacation from my job at IBM, so sleeping in a bit. I startled at the ringing, my heart tripping in my chest. When I answered, it was someone from the nursing home. These calls were not uncommon....my mom had been a resident there for nearly a year and the late night trips to meet her at the ER were a disheartening recurrence. She was 91 and not in good shape. Kind of miserable, to be honest, but stable at the moment.
Well, actually, not really, as it turned out. With little preamble the nurse said, "Your mother died this morning. When the aid went in to wake her up, she couldn't rouse her. She must have passed sometime during the night in her sleep."
All I said was "Oh." I wasn't fully awake yet, and couldn't quite figure out how to feel.
The voice on the other end of the line didn't offer any condolences (I suppose these calls are an unpleasant but ordinary task for them.) She simply advised that they would leave Mom undisturbed for as long as I needed before I could get there -- to see her and spend time with her...if that's what I wished. Of course, that's what I wished!!
In all honesty, I wasn't sad that she had passed because the last few years had been very tough on me as her caretaker. And her quality of life was truly miserable. Her body had been giving out in multiple ways, and life in the nursing home was a necessary but dismal reality. But when I finally gathered my wits about me, the deep sorrow that I felt emanated from this thought: "Oh, Mom, why couldn't you wait one more day?"
I normally saw her every other day at the home. But I hadn't been to see her for 3 or 4 days. There had been illness in her unit, and the staff advised staying away. But I had spoken to her the day before to assure her I'd be there the following day. She had dementia, and she didn't understand about the suggested quarantine. I think she thought I was just making excuses. Her last words to me were, "Oh, fine, then, don't come today." I figured I'd be there the next morning to see her and would make her understand why I'd stayed away; I'd bring her a special treat and joke with her and she'd know that I loved her and wouldn't leave her.
That day didn't unfold as I had planned. And more than five years after her passing, I still grieve over the possibility that she died thinking I had abandoned her.
— DMRS
Well, actually, not really, as it turned out. With little preamble the nurse said, "Your mother died this morning. When the aid went in to wake her up, she couldn't rouse her. She must have passed sometime during the night in her sleep."
All I said was "Oh." I wasn't fully awake yet, and couldn't quite figure out how to feel.
The voice on the other end of the line didn't offer any condolences (I suppose these calls are an unpleasant but ordinary task for them.) She simply advised that they would leave Mom undisturbed for as long as I needed before I could get there -- to see her and spend time with her...if that's what I wished. Of course, that's what I wished!!
In all honesty, I wasn't sad that she had passed because the last few years had been very tough on me as her caretaker. And her quality of life was truly miserable. Her body had been giving out in multiple ways, and life in the nursing home was a necessary but dismal reality. But when I finally gathered my wits about me, the deep sorrow that I felt emanated from this thought: "Oh, Mom, why couldn't you wait one more day?"
I normally saw her every other day at the home. But I hadn't been to see her for 3 or 4 days. There had been illness in her unit, and the staff advised staying away. But I had spoken to her the day before to assure her I'd be there the following day. She had dementia, and she didn't understand about the suggested quarantine. I think she thought I was just making excuses. Her last words to me were, "Oh, fine, then, don't come today." I figured I'd be there the next morning to see her and would make her understand why I'd stayed away; I'd bring her a special treat and joke with her and she'd know that I loved her and wouldn't leave her.
That day didn't unfold as I had planned. And more than five years after her passing, I still grieve over the possibility that she died thinking I had abandoned her.
— DMRS
What a sad day. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings, and I hope you found some peace expressing all this. My parents are elderly and fading now, and this helps prepare me.
ReplyDelete--Kathleen (Babs)