Get it all out

Alright, let me just write what happened and get it over with. It bothers me to think about it. I don't like to think at night, I've been having some strange dreams and 1 nightmare, which was that my mother was calling for me, she was in our cellar. I haven't been in the cellar since, and that was days ago.

This is where I left off.

I also need to add that when I called the ICU later that night, the doc said she was stable. I asked about the bowel obstruction and he said that cleared itself up. Good news, I was thinking.

Tuesday, May 13 the asshole doctor called around 10 am. He said something about her being back on the ventilator, she was very sick, what do I want to do? He mentioned she was put on pressors for her blood pressure. She was on lopressor when she was home, which was what I thought he was talking about, so I told him she was on lopressor before. I think I even asked some questions about it. Then things got ugly.

The doctor raised his voice, almost yelling,
"She isn't going to recover!"
Me, almost shocked, said,
"Wait a minute, you don't need to holler at me like that."
"You know what? In my opinion what you're doing is immoral!"
"I didn't ask for your opinion. What am I doing?"
"She's on life support, she isn't going to recover."
"Nobody told me this was life support. We had made arrangements for get to get the feeding tube, hopefully stay off the oxygen and get well enough to come home."
"She isn't going to recover and you have her listed as a full code (which means keep her alive by all means possible, which my mother always checked off)you're the proxy and you have to decide."

That's about the jist of it. I'm not sure about the actual verbatium, I DO remember him yelling "She isn't going to recover" and "IMO what you're doing is immoral", those were his EXACT words, they still echo in my head. I may have swore after that. When I heard "immoral" I lost it. I got upset. My mind raced and wondered if I was being immoral. But I've been through health care proxies and the DNR thing with her, nearly every time she went into the ER, admitted into a rehab she always answered to keep her alive by all means possible, perform the CPR if her heart stops, etc. I remember trying to explain that fact to the asshole, but he wasn't listening and I was getting all the more upset.

There I was, trying to make a life and death decision about the fate of my mother, who is a full code, and I've got this asshole calling me immoral. And nobody had said she wasn't going to recover from this before. The other doctors have said things like it will take a long time for her to recover/get well, not this is it, the end. On the flipside, the night before when she went back on the ventilator, I talked with hubby thinking that this was it.

I also remember telling the asshole that I wasn't going to discuss this further with him. That's why I had to call back and speak to her nurse. That's when the plans were made to shut off her stuff, stop the pressors, turn off the oxygen, the IV's ad feeding tube weren't a problem, they weren't always on anyway. They kept telling me she was getting enough fluids, although I beg to differ. And I told them that. Over and over.

We went to the ICU and were there for the whole thing. They kept a oxygen mask on her, I noticed that it was turned all the way up. A priest came in and gave the last rites or whatever it's called now. No IV, no feeding tube, no pressors (which keep the BP up), the nurse brought in the morphine machine, pumped it up and we waited. She fought before the morphine started, like moving her legs, pulling on things, squirming around in the bed, she had been doing this before. She was given ativan to "relax"=stop the squirming.

I watched the monitor. She held on great for the first couple of hours, oxygen in the 90's% range, which I have been told was good. I was actually rooting for my mother, thinking maybe she'll come around or something. Every once in a while the nurse would come in and push the buttons on the morphine machine and inject more ativan. One time the nurse came in, looked at the monitor and said, "Her numbers are elevated, I'm going to give her some more morphine." She meant her oxygen went UP, and the nurse simply pumped more drugs to slow the breathing down. Hello? If a otherwise healthy person became ill, the doctors shut off things and pumped them up with narcotics, who wouldn't stop breathing? The whole thing was revolting. I am fucking sickened by it.

It took about 4 hours of no air, no meds, no fluids, no food and a shitload of morphine for my mother to stop breathing. I can't remember what dropped first, her BP or oxygen level, but eventually they all dropped down to zero, a flat line. I held her hand when she slipped away, it was all I could do.

It was the worst fucking thing I've ever witnessed.

I'm getting upset again. It's 3am now and I shouldn't have written this tonight, but I just wanted to get it over with. I'll never sleep tonight and there's no frigging booze or beer in the house to occupy my mind. I don't like to think now. I want to be numb. A stupor would be good. I couldn't even drink now, I am the type of drinker that drinks before getting upset. Sort of like preventing the thoughts before indulging in the beer, occupying my mind before the depressing/guilty/whatever thoughts come in. I like to drink with the radio blaring and the paint flying, not crying in my beer. Not my style.

Wiping the tears, on a positive note, I love my friend D from work. She went through something simillar with her mother, only her mother survived a month after shutting everything off and they had to do the morphine thing at home. Her mother's mind was gone, she wasn't conciense and they said she wouldn't regain it. I've talked to D a couple of times since and she says I can call her anytime, maybe I'll call her on her day off. She said she questions her decision about her mother everytime she sees someone in a wheelchair/walker/ect.

In Atlantic City I thought of my mother every time I saw a people with walkers and old ladies. I thought of her driving up, thinking I should call her to tell her where I was, like I used to. I thought of her when I stole the silverware from Applebees restraunt. Stealing is out of character for me, but my mother used to snag the Equals, sugar, and once the sugar container. I thought of her today when I was making potato salad, which was her favorite. I could never remember how long to cook the potatoes. Today I had no one to ask so they turned into mush.

Taking off

Me and hubby are heading towards NYC in the morning. I didn't say to, that's because we're going to see his sister in NJ and maybe to go Atlantic City, I don't think we'll find a room in NYC it's Memorial Day weekend. Then there is the problem of where to park the car. And the dogs, I want to take them with us.

My cousin M will be staying in our house so they won't be alone, but I don't like him as a babysitter of the dogs. Last time he watched the house (back in 2003 we stayed over 1 night in CT) he got drunk and threw up under the coffee table. He cleaned it up, not good enough, I found evidence, yuck.

Atlantic City is good, there's plenty of trouble I can get into there. It's strange being able to pack up and leave without any problems. All I did was make a couple of sandwitches, put some clothes in a bag and I'm done.

I do miss my mother and think of her almost constantly. There's been so many times I've thought to myself-like when I hear some news or some other tidbit, "wait until I tell her this" or "wait until she tries this food", things like that. I was trying on some clothes today, and had this really pretty top that looked like a nightgown, it was too big for me, and I figured I'd give it to my mother. A skirt, too. I took them both back to the store. I keep thinking I have to call the hospital to see how she is, and around 4 or 5pm, I keep thinking we're running late to visit her.

The wake went well, my uncle and the two cousins all came, my cousin M and his girlfriend, my old school chums B and L, and also a bunch of people from work, including my MO boss and union boss. My mother looked different in the coffin, she looked and felt like plastic. Bruises from IV's and needles were visible on her hands and arms, not many, but I was surprised they couldn't cover them up.

I was ok during the wake, but at the service for the funeral I got upset. Only me, hubby, my cousin M, CC and D from work went to the funeral. When hubby took me to his work afterward and everyone said they were sorry and all that I started crying. It's nice of people to say that I was a good daughter, I did so much for her, and so on, but it upsets me. Maybe I should have done more? I did as much as a could at the time, and most of the time I was popping diet pills just to keep up with it all. Maybe I should have quit my job to take care of her, but I didn't work much (30-35 hours/wk) and not year round, and now what would I have left? The house seems empty, and I'm almost eager to get back to work. I think I'll go back on 6/10, they offered my the whole 3 months, but I can't sit around here for that long. I do have a lot of cleaning to do around here. My mother saved everything and I need to do something with it all now.

I also need to file a complaint of some sort, or a letter to whoever is in charge at that rotten hospital she was at. I had a problem with a doctor. He's an asshole. Explaining what happened will take up an entire post, that'll be written later. After this last experience at the hospital, I have lost ALL faith, trust and respect to anyone in the medical profession, doctors, nurses, everyone. Ok, not Scott the Iron Man, because he's cool and honest. But everyone at the Melrose Wakefield hospital can go fuck themselves. Nice, huh? Sorry, that's how I feel. I also will include the Whidden Memorial (where I was born), because some of the asshole doctors work at both hospitals.

So we're off to New Jersey or wherever. I'm still a 30 something and am going to spend the weekend somewhere other than here. I'm leaving my emotional baggage home or maybe it'll get lost along the way.

Quickly

So much to figure out, to decide, to do.

There was only 3 relatives to call, 2 nieces and my uncle who is her brother in law, my mother couldn't stand him, but I figure he's want to know. I called the 2 nieces, and I was going to call my uncle this morning but didn't get to it.

Last night I went to bed around 11:30pm, laid awake until 2:30 am and got up, did some cleaning and took a vicodin. When that didn't work I sipped 1/2 a beer and finally fell asleep around 6am, the reason for no phone calls in the morning. The night/morning of my last post I was very drunk, I had an antsy feeling where I had to drink and why not work on the painting I was working on? I went to bed around 8am very, very drunk. I do not know what time the funeral woman called, but hubby walked in and I had the phone on the bed, me asleep and her waiting on the line. He handed the phone back to me and I made an appointment for 12:30 which I slept through. I had to call when I woke up (2:30pm) asked when I made the appointment, and arranged for us to come in in a half an hour. That was VERY embarrassing. They must have know I was bombed when they called in the morning. Maybe they get that often? Like people drinking after the death of a loved one?

I don't know what to dress her in. The only dressy thing she has is the dress she wore to my wedding, it's silver (not lame) and has rhinestone buttons. I don't know if people will remember the dress from the wedding, if they look at photos from it they would. My mother loved leopard prints, but I can't find anything decent in the house or the stores. If she wears the silver dress, what jewelry? Not gold, that doesn't go with the silver.

I have no idea what I will wear. All I have is shitty clothes, my good clothes are too small. I've been punishing myself for not losing weight, by not buying clothes. One pair of pants got a rip and everything has paint on it. No shoes, either. I can't wear sneakers or flip flops. Ugh.

The house is driving me crazy, it doesn't clean up well. Or easy. I'm trying to finish covering the couch and straighten up things. Do you know how hard it is getting stripes straight on a couch? Not something I will attempt again.

I keep going to the phone, about to call the hospital to see how she is, and then I remember.

It's simply freaky that she's not coming back. We were going to the funeral place and were heading in the direction of the hospital, and it felt just like we were going to visit her in the hospital, then I remembered.

I'd like to thank everyone for their comments and sympthaies. I probably won't be posting for a few days or longer, the wake is monday, the funeral is tuesday and hubby wants to see his sister next week. I don't know when I have to return to work, but I'm not really in a hurry. One minute I sort of want to, I feel eager to get back into the swing of things, then I figure I can hang around a bit longer painting, do some much needed work around the house and doing my thing, then I realize I'm broke and we need the money. I don't know. Everything is up in the air.

I can't believe it , I can't believe it

Honest to God, I can't believe it. On May 13th, at or around 6:30pm my mother passed away. I can't even say the "D" word.

I was holding her hand as she died. I swear to God, I felt the blood or something else rush out of her hand when it happened, I really felt it. And I still can't believe she's gone.

I can't say right now about the whole thing, currently I've had a few beers (ok, this my eighth and since I'm Irish I can handle much, much more), the first since she left this world. I couldn't drink before-too nervous, too whatever-I don't know. it's just an uneasy feeling. Right now I feel (ok I know) I could drink anything that isn't nailed down. I am trying to carry on like before, y'know drinking and painting, but it isn't the same. What is today, the 15th? Every night I almost go to the phone and call that hospital and ask how she's doing.

I just can't believe it. I know it's true, I saw the so-called flat line of the monitor, but it's still unreal. Surreal. At the hospital, with the angel of death in control of the c2o, the morphine drip, the IV fluids, I knew it was happening, ans what was happening (it turned out to be one of those "pull the plug situations") and I cried like a baby.

The Woman of the House isn't coming back. I mean, she was the real woman of the house, and she isn't returning here. Although she already has, in a metaphysical sort of way. See, she ALWAYS kept the light in her room on, she had that lamp (the one I painted) next to her bed on, all the time. She slept with it on. And today, 5/14 (ok, yesterday) it burned out. We were picking up the house because what if people want to come in here after the wake and/or funeral? It's a mess, an Ebay house, crap all over the place. I just happened to unplug her radio in her room ( why draw electricity when it's not needed) and shortly afterward laid down for a nap(BTW I have been on an eating and Pepsi frenzy since this happened, which causes me to take naps due to the sugar highs and lows) and hubby said, "Did you turn off the light in her room?" and I said no. It's been a superstition since she got sick, do not turn off that lamp, like it was a bad omen. It just blew out be itself yesterday, the day after.

I really can't believe it. Today I will be meeting with the funeral people to make the arrangements. I feel like cracking open another beer. I sweat I can't believe it. It just doesn't seem real.

I kinda wanted to stay in that limbo sort of place, where I haven't told anybody, like it hasn't happened, but I couldn't stay there for long. Really I can't keep track of what day is it(nor do I even want to) but last night I called my union boss (the one who took me to the hospital to sign the shit papers)and gave him the news. Immediately after I called the m.o, to tell the girls in there, CC and F.

Really, I can't believe it.

That makes me the Woman of the House now, or was I that before? I don't know, but I don't think I'm worthy of carrying the torch. Not compared to her. OMG, I swear I can't believe it.

this was monday 5/12

This is an excerpt from something I wrote on Monday. I posted on one of the ebay forums I frequent, I was looking for info on getting someone to sign the medical leave papers. The whole story isn't necessary anymore. It's actually Tuesday now and after all I've been through today I can't write : too tired, too weary. I just wanted to get it out of my system, and the underlined text is to prove a point, which I'll have to get to later

Monday- Update-I got the papers signed, I went to her former doctor, the one who only runs a diabetic clinic now. My union boss drove me to the hospital (I don't drive) and saw the run around the nurses have been giving and I just called the previous doctor, went in and it was done.

I spent the whole day with her at the hospital, they had to adjust her oxygen-she needed more and took xrays. When my husband got out of work, we had to do some errands. His sister is getting married this friday and we had to get her something, I just got a gift card, I'm of no mind right now to be looking for gifts. And most likely I won't be going to the wedding, it's out of state and I don't care.

Once we got home, we both laid down for a nap. I am truely exaughsted. 20 minutes later the doctor calls, her x rays came back that she has a bowel obstruction, a new pnemonia, her blood pressure is low and she's going back to the ICU. She'll probably go back on the ventilator. She's not a good canditate for surgery.

The doctor asked if I wanted her to go back on the ventilator if it was necessary. I said yes. My mother is one of those people who wants everything possible done to keep her alive, every time she's been admitted (hospitals, nursing homes)she's chosen the "full code" and "by all means possible" to retain life. I think it's coming to the point where I'll have to decide when to stop. I mean, she isn't able to decide for herself anymore, I know she had said in the past "by all means possible" but it seems like there isn't much of a chance for her to get over all this now.

I'm just waiting around for my husband to get up, he's been awake since 4am. Once he gets up we'll go back to the hospital, unless they say she's stable, then maybe we'll go in the morning. I'd like to get some sleep but don't think I can, plus I've got no clean clothes, stuff to pack and take the post office, a million things to do.

I miss my mother

It's been roughly 1 month to the date since I've been able to talk to her. We've had 1 or 2 good days since then where she's been able to talk, that's it.

Which brings us to now-today she was put back in the telemetry unit-the cardiac ward, her potassium is high. Something we've dealt with before, she must be dehydrated again. She had to go back on the bipac frigging thing to breath, the mask thing.

I keep telling everybody that I think her potassium/kidney/levels can be controlled if she gets enough fluids and questrian to decrease the bag output. It's always worked in the past. How can they keep her hydrated if her colostomy is spewing out loads and loads of fluid with nothing to stop/slow it down? You have to balance the amount of the input with the output. But they keep looking at me like I'm stupid.

The doctor yesterday refused to sign my leave on the basis of 1)he won't be treating her as of monday and 2)there are no discharge plans as of yet for her and he says this is for me to leave work to take care of her. I may have to quit my job if I can't find one to sign.

Rollercoaster day

Yesterday the nurse says she doesn't think the doctor will sign my leave papers.

Today my boss-the bad one-calls, I answered thinking it was my mother's doctor pushing the g tube again, and he tells me I am NOT eligible for a leave. It's because I haven't worked enough hours in the last year. He says he's going to look into it more and call me back on it.

Then the doctor calls to sell me on the gtube. I gave in. She'll be evaluated in the morning. It's like there's no other choice. If her swallowing improves it'll be removed, just like before. It was that or nothing, the nose tube isn't working out. I'm trying to be hopeful.

My boss calls back, he says I am definitely not eligible. I said, "What do I do now, quit?" "Oh, no,no. We want to work with you. You know we're short on help, maybe you could work a couple of days a week or something." Yeah I know all to well how short of help they are. I was ready to just quit. I said there are things going on, g-tube, and I'll call him back on Monday. Ugh.

Later my union boss called, very upset, reading me section xzy, title abc and yadda yadda yadda from some union book. Since they told me I was eligible when I applied for leave they cannot go back on it. So I'm eligible be default. It's an election year. Now all I have to do is get the doc to sign.

I have no problem working, actually, I work all the time-painting, making things, soap, ebay selling. So I'm not actually lazy (except for today) it's just I can't do the work/hospital/work/taking care of my mother thing all at once anymore. I'm burned out. No can do anymore. I got high blood pressure for a reason, I'd guess. I should check and see how it is now, although things haven't exactly cooled off yet.

Today (and lately) I've been feeling lazy. Maybe it's all the bullshit that's been going on that's draining me. I just want to do nothing. And hungry, I want chocolate and that's not satisfying, I have a sandwitch and then I want something sweet. Pms maybe? I think my period will be screwed up this month.

The other night while I was in the kitchen painting a huge centipede walked across the floor and exited under the cabinets under the sink. Big assed centipede, millions of legs, hairy, nasty. I was so stunned when I saw him I froze, I should have stomped on him that second, now I know we'll meet again. That just ruined me, I avoided doing the dishes and laundry, they love the cellar. I finally did the dishes today with my arms extended standing as far from the sink as possible. I made hubby put on the laundry.

Hubby even asked me if I had any "wake your ass pills" around, that's how tired I've been. In the past I have offered him crap like no doz and OTC diet pills before to wake his ass up, believe me, he could use them, he's worse than me. I wish I had something, I don't like being a slug.