Up the mountain

What a day!
I was at my best. This morning I looked around the living room and was astonished to see the mess. It was only 8:30 am. Blankets and pillows flung onto the floor. Soiled sheets rolled into a big bundle. My mom crookedly in the bed. But sleeping. Briefs piled. Wipes. Kleenex. Toothettes(those little sponges you swab a mouth with). Garbage precariously piled in a way too small vanity garbage can. I hadn’t brushed my teeth the night before. But I had flossed.
I felt like a fool , a fool with a cold, starting to climb Mt Everest. Oh yes, no training. Ever.   Obviously I kept going once I looked around me and especially since I asked myself how soon can I make this funny?

My morning up to 2 pm was soooo busy. People coming and going. Waiting for phone calls, deliveries. Someone brought me food and went on a run to Walmart because there were so many thing we didn’t have. Tonight I’ve got rhythm going. No more mess but it took all day to clear. It reminded me in many ways of being a first time mom and on your first day alone. Scary. Clutzy. No time.

I was told, but I would never have believed how busy it would be. And I would tell someone never to do hospice alone at home.  You need more than one. I have more but no one to do part of 24/7. When help leaves I am everything. Phone numbers beside me. A timer to wake me for injections. Vials and notepad to record.

My mom can’t swallow, sleeps most of the time. And looks amazingly cute. She is peaceful. I am peaceful. It’s way past my bedtime. Waiting to give drugs in 15. Ah, then the couch which molds perfectly under me.

It’s lovely to talk with palliative care people. We chat. We share ideas. I tell a story about how it went this morning and I make them chuckle. It’s our work together. We’re midwifing my mom back home now. It’s time to go back now.

No heaviness in conversation about the imminent passing, or sorries. Only listening. Open hearts.
What a gift that I can be here now.
And yeah, I’m good now on the climb up the Mountain. I will forget the struggle part eventually ( I was told this too)

(I am blogging on my phone now so I hope there aren’t any weird words)

It's time.

I'm now permanently based at my mom's.
It's been a super busy day. I can hardly wait to lie down soon.
Visitor's: Dr. B., Nurse E.  and the case worker from Ccac.
We have a hospital bed. Mom didn't look too happy about that.
My brother is sick in bed with what I've got.
Don is getting dizzy with instructions.

Anyway, here we are.
It's funny when something life grabbing is happening.....it's hard to see it in any perspective. Perhaps that's what muddles us up, always looking for perspective. Maybe if we just stayed in life grabbing moments, no matter what they are, life would be smoother, easier. It's tough trying to make sense of things.

Strength leaving

My mom lost all strength tonight. In her arms. Legs. Belly. Don and I managed to get her into bed. Even now she expresses gratitude and is peaceful. She is losing her voice and can’t swallow well. I have the same raspy voice. I have a wicked cold. Sleeping on the couch.

We knew soon something would change. It’s still a bit alarming. It’s the unknown.

We take care of each other

Don surprised me yesterday with a delicious lunch. Yum! I felt like a queen as I was hungry as a bear when I came home.
As we take care of each other.........I know there is something profound to say.........I appreciate, I love.......
I remember when a friend's brother died young, before middle age, and he had needed a lot of care by his family in his last years, There were few people at the funeral but it was very moving. The minister pulled tears out of all our hearts because he said when we take care of someone in the way this man had been taken care of, that a strong bond is created between each other. I'm feeling that bond between so many people as I am taking care of but so many people are taking care of me too.

I didn't want to leave my pyjamas this morning. Yet, as the day moved along, I rode on the day buoyed by simple things: smiles from strangers, email hugs, coffee with an out of town friend, my two guys (Don and my brother), one with supper, the other with dishes.

Now I'm back in my pyjamas. Nothing profound here. Yet there is: this one step at a time, one day at a time living. Knowing that tomorrow morning everything may have changed.
Dr. B. made a home visit yesterday. My mom said to him that she is happy. And that every night she clasps her hands together and prays that she won't wake up in the morning. Then, morning comes and she says "I'm still here!"

Throw away the suitcase

What is amazing to me - that my mom carried old hurts, old wounds, grievances, for years.

Where are they now? Just gone. Woosh >>>>>

Now how awesome is that!

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could let them go when we still feel like we're in the land of the living? Instead we may carry old hurts like a suitcase full of stuff that we show to everyone who will look and listen. Man, that suitcase can get heavy and bedraggled. We gotta let it go.

Incoming

I heard my mom say to a friend that it’s so lovely that the family continues with the birth of Alice. My mom said that as Alice came into the world she started to leave. This is a photo of Alice at home in Montreal. She is wearing her great grandmother’s sheepskin boots from Australia.

Direction

The hardest thing is when I don't know what to do.

My mom and I both knew that she won't be able to get changed into people seeing clothes, traverse her own stairs, climb into a car, get out of car, reception, sit a few hours in a hospital, climb into a car, out of the car, traverse her own stairs, back into her chair by the window. It was impossible yesterday,  impossible today, impossible tomorrow. A decision to cancel Dr. B's appointment for tomorrow.

It feels like the next step on this journey. Not being able to go out. This is new. Mom isn't well enough to mind.

Wouldn't it be utopian if doctor's all came home when people are sick? Sometimes it makes way more sense. Now. And when little kids are really sick. Or when you wonder if this is pneumonia and it's -40C and your car is frozen? I'm naive.

Previously we made decisions about what  to do that weren't this clear. Clear decisions make life so much easier. And now, it's up to Dr. B. what to do.  I remember when we first met him. Up to that point we didn't know who or how many were my mom's caregivers. There seemed to be many people involved but no one really "involved". No one person had the reins. I was trying to hold them. My mom was trying to hold them. Like that was working. We met Dr. B. and he gently, ever so gently, took the reins from both of us. And we both sat back and felt safe. As it should be. (Though my mom points direction). (A good thing she still can).