Still Writing...

"Well, that was a lot of work for nothing!" R. said this morning.

He didn't mean it, of course. It wasn't nothing. We've been taking care of her - his mom - for a long time. Over the last 4+ years, as Alzheimer's stole away everything that made her who she was, we adapted and arranged, constantly modifying schedules, approaches and expectations as her abilities deteriorated.

It wasn't all 'a lot of work' ... until recently, when she became ill. She stopped being able to support her own weight at all, and became bedridden. Then it got to be a lot of work. But she wanted to stay at home. That was always her wish, and she told us so over and over and over - back when she was capable of telling us. That's one of the things about Alzheimer's, of course - in the earlier stages... the never ending repetition.... which drives you crazy at the time.... but which you miss... Later, when its gone.

Anyway - we did it. We kept her at home. And it has been, as he said, a lot of work. And a lot of worry too - not so much worrying about keeping her alive - that wasn't the goal. But keeping her comfortable .... and supporting each other. I've been totally distracted ...still trying to keep up with school and all that ~fun~ stuff - but unable to concentrate.... hating being unavailable... for her, but even more so, for R.

And now it is over.

Yesterday was not a good day. She couldn't eat or drink - any time we tried to give her anything, she would choke and cough and sputter. We kept trying, but....

By later in the evening, the codeine and aspirin that I had managed to get into her wasn't enough any more. I called the nursing service to see if we should be using something from the 'comfort kit' that they had provided. The nurse on-call last night - not ours - is an idiot.... and I will be making very sure that the agency knows it. She asked if there was morphine in the kit. I said that there was, but that I had not yet been trained to give it.

"Well, I don't feel like driving all that way just to give it." Gee, thanks for your support! Anyway, she ended up calling our nurse, who lives closer to us. After talking with her, the idiot one called me back and said that they had decided that it would be best to just give her one of the acetominophen suppositories 'for now', and that our nurse would start the morphine today, so that it could be monitored better. So I gave her one, and it seemed to help ...some, at least... she continued to moan, but it was a lower, less painful sound...

And then... somewhere around 3 a.m.

....the moans stopped.

And now I am sitting at my desk ....writing.... while R. makes bacon and eggs. I have filled the tub - the plan is to go and have a bath before the family descends. But I am writing while the water grows cold.... I'll add some hot.

There is a mirror on the wall to the left of my desk. And in it I can see her. Her mouth is slightly open; her cheeks sunken. She is cold to the touch, now - but no longer cold, in pain, afraid, lost in the miasma of Alzheimer's thought.

We've called the doctor who will come to fill out the death certificate - first though, he told us, he has to go and pick up a death certificate. He seemed to think we should have one here, on hand, for his convenience. Gee, I'm sorry! Perhaps he ought to have mentioned it when he was here more than a week ago.

Anyway - soon he will come and do the paperwork. And then someone... who? The funeral home, perhaps? will come and take her away.

It is so quiet.

It is going to be so quiet.

It was not all "for nothing"

We did everything we could for her - for more than 4 years, and especially for the last couple of weeks - to allow her to be as comfortable and as happy as possible.

We done pretty damn good.

And now that it is over, we can be secure in the knowledge that we did what needed doing to the best of our ability.

And she is - finally - at peace.