We only have one opportunity to have a good end of life experience
My mother was my first experience in making decisions at the end of someones life. The only thing she expressed was she was done with doctors and medical care. She wanted her funeral to be closed casket.
That wasn’t much to go on. My family was always very open to the discussion of death. So why did we not talk about or even admit when my parents were at the end of their lives?
My mother had had emphysema and COPD for years. Her last 3 years resulted in a few emergency room visits, a collapsed lung, many cases of pneumonia and or bronchitis. Home oxygen use, nebulizers, inhalers and the like. It had become the new way of life.
She struggled to breathe so showers were a several hour event because of the rest spells. Housekeeping was taken on by me. I moved in with her because I needed the help but in reality, she needed my help too. We never acknowledged that.
I went grocery shopping, took out the trash and the routine chores. My mom did what she could on days she felt up to it. It was a system that worked. But we never had a conversation about her impending death, what she wanted or need.
Just a few days after Christmas she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t say anything except she wasn’t going to the doctor's or hospital. At the time of her death she was living in the home of my sister’s. I was in massage school and was about 4 months from graduating. Three days before her death I called my brother and told him I thought she was going to die. He was not prepared to hear that. Said when we was together at Christmas which was only a few days before, she was fine and just like she always had been. Things have changed, I said. As I described what I was seeing, his wife who is a nurse, told him that it did sound like death was near and he should come.
He came the next day and saw the truth for himself. He went home that night and so did I but we returned to my sister’s home early the next morning. Momma was exhausted and so weak. I made the mistake of telling her she should eat something to keep her strength up. She ate a few bites of cereal. I didn’t know I shouldn’t have suggested she eat unless she wanted it. When the doctor's office opened I called and told them of the situation and that she didn’t want a doctor, but was there something he could do to help her be more comfortable. He said he could prescribe medication, but he could also send hospice.
What is hospice exactly. They had briefly went over in class in massage school, but that didn’t pertain to me so I didn’t pay as close attention as I should have.
Two people arrived in a couple hours time. One nurse and one Chaplin. They quickly introduced themselves then went straight to assessing my mom. They gave her a morphine injection which helped to make her comfortable. We then did the necessary paperwork and just as we were finishing, mom appeared to have died. No breath for 20 minutes. We all saw it. Then suddenly she gasped. Her breath continued at a pace of 4-6 breaths per minute for 6 more hours before she finally found peace and struggled for breath no more.
We called the funeral home immediately and with gentle snowflakes starting to fall, my brother carried my mother out to the stretcher when the hearse arrived. “She carried me into this world, and I want to be the one to carry her out.”
That was the only part of her death that was perfect. No mistakes. Even the hospice nurse had glistening eyes as we watched him lovingly pick her up and carry her.
I look back on those last 3 days with so much regret. We wasted precious time going on with life as usual as much as possible instead of making it a good death for her. Instead of hearing her final words.
I did whisper some private words in her ear shortly before she became unresponsive, but there was so much more I should've and could've done.
It’s my mission to help others not make the mistakes I did. To not miss the opportunities I missed. To let a loved one die thinking they couldn’t express themselves. I often wonder what was going through her mind. My mother never wanted to be a bother. She knew what was happening but didn’t say anything. Neither did we.
We failed our mother.
I dedicate this business to her.
