Mom's last days

Mom had been declining for some time, since before Dad’s passing over three years ago. We found out—after Dad passed I think—that her carotid arteries were severely constricted so there wasn’t enough blood (hence not enough oxygen) getting to her brain, which was consistent with her declining mental function.

During my October visit, we went to Waimanalo Beach. She was able to walk from the car to the sand, and we sat looking at the water for a while. She mentioned that most of her colleagues at the employment service were psychology majors, whereas she had studied philosophy, and expressed her view that whereas psychology was focused on taking things apart, philosophy was more about building up one’s life. I don’t believe I’d ever heard this from her before. That evening at dinner, she said all this to my brother-in-law Neil, too.

Shortly after this visit, she fell on the porch—it was as though her legs just went out from under her. She was unable to get up without help; once up, she went to the ER under protest, where they said there was no stroke and nothing broken, but they put a splint on her left arm.

Several days later, my sister Inga noted bleeding and took her to the ER again, where a scan revealed some suspicious spots on her pancreas, later confirmed as cancer. The doctors gave her six months.

Around this time, Mom pretty much stopped eating altogether. This of course drastically reduced her likely time left on earth. My sister Donna came from the mainland and moved in, sleeping in Mom’s bed, where Mom would whack her in the middle of the night(!) when she wanted help getting to the bathroom. At some point, Inga and her daughter Jana took the night shift on weekends so Donna could (try to) catch up on her sleep.

Carol and I planned another visit—in November. I arrived a day before Carol, and accompanied Mom and Donna on what would be Mom’s last visit to her primary care doctor. The doctor suggested an appointment for a month later, “if you think she’ll still be here,” he said. I remember the date: November 18.

Carol arrived later that day. Her flight was delayed several hours, as a passenger died and they turned the plane around—not a particularly good sign! While on this trip, we installed grab bars in the hallway and the bathroom, to make Mom’s trek to the bathroom a little easier. I emailed our daughters, suggesting that they come and visit soon. The weekend of December 1 would be a better bet than December 8, I said.

Also on this visit, Jana made an appointment with Deborah Glazier, a professional photographer, who came to the house and took some beautiful pictures of Mom with us.

My nephew Keith visited at Thanksgiving and at least twice I think in December. Our daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren visited the weekend of December 1st, and Donna’s sons came too, so my mom got to see all her grandchildren and great-grandchildren in her final month. I also made one last visit, December 2–4. Around this time, Mom started sleeping on a hospital bed, and Inga and Donna both slept in Mom's bed (Inga got family leave).

Monday, December 17, I pinged my sisters after work: is Mom up? She wasn't. I returned home and put the phone on the charger. A few hours later I moved the phone into the bedroom and noted a missed facetime call, but it was late…

I was awakened by the phone’s buzzing about 10:20pm. My nephew Keith was calling on facetime—actually Jana’s face appeared. Mom's breathing was shallow; it had become quite loud and raspy. (I’ve heard the term “death rattle” and wondered if that’s what it was.) “We don’t know if it’s the end, but it's a change,“ Jana said. Inga called the hospice service, and someone there said their mother did this sort of breathing for 4 days. We all told Mom that we loved her, that she was a great mom and grandmother, that we would miss her but we will be OK. Her breathing slowed and quieted. Donna took her blood pressure: 52 over something, supposedly not enough to sustain consciousness, but who knows for sure? We kept telling her those loving things; we thanked her for teaching us about God and being an example of love and service. Her breathing got quieter and slowed.

The nurse arrived from the hospice service. He listened to her heart; apparently it was either inaudible or barely there. After discussing a few more things, he confirmed her heart had stopped. 9:33pm (11:33pm here). There were some tears, but mostly it was peaceful. For her it was a good day to die, but for us a sad day to be bereft. And yet we have the promise of eternal life, and new bodies.

Inga, Donna and I are now orphans. We are sad, but it’s not tragic.

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Jana made a marvelous video honoring Mom: https://vimeo.com/311176736/b4f23d0c03
Hey! That couch Mom is lying on about 00:44 in the video—I remember that couch! I haven’t seen it for over half a century.