New haircut

I just had my hair cut super short.  It was bugging me and that was pretty much the only solution I could come up  with at the moment.  Mind you, I just had it cut a couple of weeks ago, too... If it irritates me again I'm going for the clippers.

My phone takes lousy pictures, but you can at least see how short it is now.  Amazingly, my mum didn't say a word about it this morning.

Not for the faint of heart ... or stomach

***WARNING***  

!GRAPHIC MEDICAL CONTENT!

Thursdays are the hospice nurse days.  We have an amazingly wonderful nurse named Kathleen.  She fits perfectly with us.  She gets us, we get her, we are all alike in some ways and hugely different in others, but we get each other.  That's important.

Today, after commenting on how great mum is doing, and how she will almost certainly be around for Christmas, she brought up the subject of "bleeding out".

Oh.

Oh dear.

You see, the big softball-sized tumor in mum's right lung which has crossed into her left lung, is sitting right next to and now also encircling, her aorta.  The aorta is called 'the great vessel'.  It takes oxygenated blood from the heart and distributes it to the rest of the body.  When a tumor is adjacent to the aorta, it is putting stress on the vessel.  The oh-so-important vessel can grow weak from that stress.  Sometimes it can rupture.  When that happens, all of that oxygenated blood breaks free of the aorta.  It may go into the body cavity or it may go into the lungs.  It is quickly fatal.

If it goes into the lungs, it will likely come up the airway and out of the mouth.  Kathleen recommends having a supply of dark colored towels on hand.

I'm still processing this information.

It was a fairly sobering conversation.  And it reminded me that while we have been enjoying this gently sloping plateau as much as we can, we have grown complacent.  We now expect things to continue as they are indefinitely.  But, really, it could be over at any moment.

And, for crying out loud Mum, don't cough!

Fuck.

Still here...

Yep, we're still here.  All of us.  Including my darling mumsey.

She is on a gently sloping plateau these days.  Getting a little worse but not a lot worse.  Losses in cognition and physical abilities and stamina, but her will is strong and she is not done living.  I am grateful for that.

I am still spending every morning at the parents' house ~ well, actually, right now it's only six days a week because my dad stays awake on Sunday mornings to watch football.

I am extremely grateful to my employers for letting me work whatever hours I can for as long as this lasts.  And to my team of excellent coworkers for covering for me when I am not there.

I have a lot to be grateful for, in spite of this terrible disease.

I just have to remind myself of that from time to time.

Because there are many days when I just want to cry.  And, when I get a minute to myself, I do.  But, then I have to pick myself back up and carry on.  Because that's what we do, right?

There's a beautiful sunset right now, outside my office window.  Might as well be grateful for that too.

And for my friends, both RL and virtual who keep letting me know that I am in their thoughts.  Thank you.

Rebound

Here's the strange thing: my mom is holding on.  I don't know how or why or what is helping her, but after a couple of days that were absolutely dire, she has rallied.  She is out of bed, walking with help, drinking tea, and combing her hair.  We thought that the end of this week would probably be her last, but she has surprised us all.

But... and it's a big but ... there is a booklet that the hospice folks gave us that outlines the final days.  In it, there is talk of a period where the dying person has a rebound and seems almost like their old self.  I wonder if that is where we are now.  

Another strange thing is that during that bed-ridden, excruciating couple of days, mom was very lucid.  She answered questions directly, she had things to tell each of us, she let us know when the pain was unmanageable.  Now, she has slipped back into the random, unconnected (in our minds) monologues, and is disassociated with reality.  I don't know what to make of that.

One thing that I believe helped her was the knowledge that Zoe was coming.  I called Zoe a day or so after the nurse said it would be the end and asked her if she could come for one last visit.  She made plane reservations right away.

I have been at the parents' house for the last ... what, 3 or 4 days/nights?... I'm not sure, at this point.  But, last night I felt as if I could sleep in my own bed with no worries about the night or the morning.  My dad promised he would call if they needed help.

I'm on my way back over there to sit with mom while dad has his nap.  After that, I'm actually going to go to work for a few hours, while Zoe takes a turn hanging with her Grammy.

Zoe can only stay until Sunday.  I don't know what to expect once she leaves.  Oh well, there's just no way of knowing except to live through it.

Near the end

I am sleeping at my parents house now.  The hospice nurse says we have a week or so.  Mom is sleeping a lot, but when she is awake she is often quite restless.  We had a morning of good lucidity today, although it began at 4am, we'll take it whenever we can.

Pop and I were able to help her to the bathroom, which she much prefers over the other options.  Well, who doesn't, right?  She also had a half a cup of tea this morning, which we consider a fantastic accomplishment.

I have dashed home for a quick shower and clean clothes.  I've answered some emails and thought that I would post this brief update.  I would update more, but my parents computer is a relic and I haven't even tried.

Thank you, all, for keeping us in your thoughts.

Words to live by

Do not dwell in the past,
Do not dream of the future,
Concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Buddha

I'm working on just being present.

Good days and not so good

It's been a rough month.  It's been up and down, but mostly down.  The shocking thing is how quickly Mom is getting worse.  She makes very little sense.  It's all sentence fragments in a stream of consciousness monologue.  Sometimes there is a theme.  Tuesday was her Uncle Chalmer.  Wednesday was Cousin Debbie.  Today was Lisa and Sybil.  Knowing who she is talking about is helpful.  Makes it a tiny bit easier to follow.

There are some funny things, though.  I mean, you have to laugh or else you cry.  Today she said as I sat down and untied my shoes, "Yes, sit down and take off your trees."  And later she asked me, "How many were staying here while you were dancing on your head?"  I guessed 3.  I mean, what can you say?

My new schedule is this:
Spend the morning, from about 9 to noon, at the parents house.  This gives me time with my mum while she is fairly rested, and importantly, time for my dad to take his morning nap.  It is essential that he stay healthy and rested.  I've been doing this for a week or so, and he looks much better.
Work from about 1-ish to 8 or 9 in the evening.
Go home, sit in front of the tv for a few minutes, go to bed.
On Saturday and Sunday, just take out the work part.

It's not just that her mind is going.  She is also physically very frail.  Some days she can get herself up and walking, but mostly not.  She is pretty teetery, too, so there is the constant fear of her falling.  She has fallen, but so far no serious injury.  One good thing is that they put her on a steroid and it has increased her appetite. She was at the point of eating a couple of bites of toast a day and that was it for her caloric intake.  Now, however, she is eating an entire piece of toast for breakfast and sometimes having part of another one.  Wow!  She will eat a little lunch and a few bites of dinner, but that's about all.  Still, it's keeping her going.

I've told her what a wonderful mother she is, and how lucky I feel.  I tell her every day that I love her.  I can't ask her any big questions any more, though.  Interpreting the answer is so difficult.  One thing that makes me happy is that sometimes, while she is telling some incomprehensible story, she'll shake her head and chuckle.  Laugh at some fleeting memory, and then sit quietly with a smile on her face.  I like that.

Two Old Girls

Conflating

Conflate: noun. 1) To bring together; meld or fuse.  2) To combine (two variant texts, for example) into one whole.

Thursday I have to have my dog put to sleep.

It’s time, I know that.  It’s past time, actually.  I’ve been wondering when this day would come, and putting it off.  She is ancient, especially for a biggish dog.  I’ve written about her before.  She has been declining for a while.  Her eyesight and hearing are nearly gone, as is her bladder control.  I’ve been washing rugs for months.  I buy vinegar by the gallon jug.

For the last couple of months (or years), we have had to help her get up off the floor.  We lift up her back end, under her back legs, and hold her steady until she gets her balance and starts walking.  But now, even that isn’t enough help.  She almost can’t keep all four legs under her at the same time.  We stand her up, she falls down.  We hold up her back legs and the front ones go.  T built her a ramp to get from the deck to the back yard and it works just fine as long as you walk beside her, holding her up.

So, yes, it’s time.  I called the house call vet last week to schedule an appointment, and of course he was out of town.  He emailed me back and we set the time for Thursday, 7 July at 4pm.  It’s ok that I had an extra week.  For one thing, she has gotten worse over the course of the week, and it has allowed me to really see that it must be done.  I wanted her to die naturally, in her sleep, but she hasn’t complied with that.  So, yes, on Thursday I must put our elderly family pet to sleep.

Conflate: to combine into one whole.

I can’t help but look at the other elderly dying family member. 

I am not conflating my mom with my dog.  Not really.  But it feels ominous somehow, or disrespectful, or like I’m tempting fate.  I feel like I am taking away what time Cookie has, time that she could be enjoying a treat, or watching the shadows of people pass by from the front porch.  I’m taking away the tail-wagging, tongue-lolling, happy to see me, cheerful individual who has lived in my house for 16 years.  Am I going to cause a shift in the space – time continuum that will cascade on to my mother?  By putting the dog down am I negatively impacting my mother’s survival?

Of course I know that this isn’t true.  My mum and my dog are not psychically connected.  It just feels too close to the bone, too close to the heart, too fragile.  Too something.

My mum still has some time left.  And, she is in much better shape than the dog!  She has good days and bad days, and yesterday was discouraging, but she is still her essential self.  But then, so is Cookie. There isn’t anything I can do, at this point, to lengthen Cookie’s life, and I wouldn’t want to.  She is tired.  She is old.  She is losing the sparkle in her eye.  If I were to keep her alive it would be selfish.  I’m not doing that. 

And I’m not giving up on my mom.  

Feeling good

I made some delicious beef stew for my parents and took it over last night.  Yes, I know that summer is not beef stew season but remember, we live in the Pacific Northwest and it is not summery here.  So far this year we have had temperatures over 80 degrees just 3 times.  It's cool and breezy right now.  Plus, comfort food is satisfying in all seasons.  The stew is one of my few tried and true, reliable, great tasting meals.  I am not a cook. But, that's ok because my mom is not much of an eater.  She does love my stew though.

While I was there, my dad gave me the run down on the latest visit to the doctor.  Actually, they visited the Nurse Practitioner.  It was very encouraging!  My mom is feeling much better, and her oxygen saturation is staying well within the normal range.  I think the pneumonia is finally resolving.  Also, her inner ear thing (infection? something?) must be better as well, because her balance is much better.  She was feeling pretty perky last night.  That made me feel better.  Oh, and this: the NP told them that they have a couple of patients who have been in hospice for 3 and 4 years.  That made us all feel better.  My dad said, "Let's plan Christmas!"  Smiles all around.

Just so I could feel useful, I ordered one of those fancy walkers with a basket and a seat and bicycle style brakes.  You can get anything from Amazon!  It should be arriving today or tomorrow and I think it will really help my mom with her mobility.  She tires easily but still wants to be out and about.

All of this gave me a really good feeling yesterday.  She may not have as long above ground as I want, but she doesn't yet have a foot in the grave.