I'm so sorry L., i can't say it. My deepest sympathy to you and your family. Lighting a candle for your mother. Sending you a big hug. We are here for you.
I walk wondering why, the same dream so many times
Thank you all, I appreciate your kind thoughts immensly, truly I do.
The paramedics took Mum and I to A&E last week because she was feeling very ill and it turns out that she had an infection that failed to respond to even the most heavy-duty antibiotics. The hospital threw everything it had at her, but to no avail. So the infection - which started in her gut (she had Diverticulitis) - went systemic and killed her. We'll get the death certificate today and I suspect it was kidney failure that took her in the end.
The reason why the antibiotics didn't work is that she had - unbeknownst to her, and therefore us - Leukaemia, brought about by the meds she was on used to control a blood disorder. Basically, her bone marrow was now only producing immature bloodcells that couldn't properly carry the drug (or oxygen) round her body.
Mercifully, she slipped into unconsciousness within about a day and passed away a few days later, not knowing a bloody thing about it. So her suffering was short. Also, she died very quickly, the hospital didn't even have time to call us - but she didn't die alone, the (truly wonderful and lovely) staff were with her and the on-site chaplain was called straight away.
Needless to say, I am totally and utterly DEVASTATED (as is my brother) but I have to put aside MY pain and remember that if Mum HAD recovered from the infection, she'd now be facing Leukaemia and the horrible chemotherapy meds used to treat it.
And for a woman of nearly 82 who was not in the best of health, that would be an unimaginably horrible fight to try and face - and most likely, would have been a long, drawn out, painful, distressing and miserable end. I couldn't bare to see her go through that.
I am grateful that while she was conscious, I was able to tell her that I loved her and she was able to tell me that she loved me. Also, on one occasion while she was unconscious, when I whispered in her ear that we/I loved her, she briefly opened her eyes. So she knew we were there, even though she was out of it.
My brother's wife (who is a very high-up-in-the-profession nurse) says that even though she was unconscious and unresponsive, hearing is the last thing that goes, so people in that state KNOW that their family are there. They might not know what you are saying, but deep down, they recognise the voices of those they love.
So...
I won't be posting much for now (as I am sure you will understand) but I WILL be back. Mum would want me to pick myself up and do all the things that I loved doing and that she loved to hear about.
I am not alone, by the way. I am staying at my brother's house and his young kids (and the dog) are keeping me sane. His wife (due to her profession) doesn't pull her punches and has been brutally honest about any medical queries that I have had over the last week. I'm grateful for that because cushioning the blow or giving false hope doesn't work when it comes to The Crunch. Tell it to me how it is so that I know what we're fighting/facing.
Her own mother died of bone cancer four years ago this month, so she's helping my brother and I to try and cope.
Strangely, my experience at the wildlife hospital has helped a bit. I've seen death countless times before, I've held creatures that have died while I've been holding them in my arms, I've held animals that are being put down, I've carried bodies to what we (amusingly) call The Dead Shed - and I KNOW that death is INFINITELY preferrable to suffering, so Mum was 'lucky' in that she suffered only briefly and died before my brother and I gave the order to withdraw treatment, which is what we would have had to do today. Effectively, we would have had to 'pull the plug' on our own mother.
Can you imagine having to do that to someone you love?
Meanwhile, my poor ol' Dad is still in hospital, recovering from his fractured vertebrae!! His short-term memory is shot to bits, so the blow is weirdly softened for him because the devastation doesn't linger. (The chaplain is looking after him too. She's lovely: very kind and serene.)
Me? I'm waiting for the emotional tsunami to hit, to be honest. Right now, I'm numb and in shock, functioning on a minute-by-minute level... ...but I have to be strong for my brother.
