A Sleepy Afternoon

On this persistently snow day, I drove to see my mother after work. I'm shifting days from Thursday to Wednesday because I am taking a MassArt class on Thursday evening. I was expecting my mother to be chipper and very alert when I arrive. It was not the case.

Yesterday, my sister and I talked with some of my mother's caregivers about her condition. They suggested that they call in hospice to evaluate my mother. They reassured us that some patients actually graduate from hospice because of their caring intervention. Hospice will review medications and treatment plans to keep my mother comfortable. She will simply stay where she is, but hospice workers will come in two or three times a week for some extra attention. They will also help the family understand what we need to do to prepare for her eventual death, to plan for burial, and to cope afterwards.

However, life in the nursing home is certainly moment by moment. My sister saw my mother who was chipper and in a good mood earlier in the day. Typically, I see her when she is active and my sister gets her when she is sleepy. Today, it was reversed.

I could scarcely get my mother to lift her head. I wrapped her in blankets because he skin was ice cold. The building was warm, but my mother's legs were chilled. Her hands were cold as well. She did not raise her head. I adjusted her breathing tube, but I could tell she labored from a chest cold.

I rubbed her legs and she said it hurt, so I stopped. She said her head is itchy, so I scratched it for her. She still has such thick hair. I held her hands and warmed them up. She barely moved, head slumped forward. I massaged her back and sang to her. She barely lifted her head.

After half an hour, she came to. She said she felt sick all over. I asked questions about how she felt sick, but she said, "It is a little bit of bad everywhere." "Can I get you something to drink?" She shook her head no. "How about soup?" No. "Some crackers or a cookie?" No. "Your favorite icecream?" No. "Would you like me to stay?" Yes. "Would you like communion?" "I can't." She drifted off.

Fifteen minutes later she came to, but couldn't muster a smile. After some brief chatting where the answers did not fit the questions, I asked:

"Did you know it was Dick's birthday the other day?" "How old is he?" "86," as she winces. "He says hello." "Well, that is good. Is he coming to visit soon?" "Yes, I think so." "That's good. I still like him you know. You know, history is in the past, but I still like him."

"Did you know it was Dara's birthday the other day?" "How old is she?" "60," as she turns away and winces. "We are all getting old, huh?" "Yeah, I must be getting old," she says.

"Did you know that you were a good mother?" "I think so. I tried."
"And you raised us well." "I think so."
"And you were a good cook." "I think so. You all liked to eat."
"And you did well. You had a good life." "I think so."

That was it. Sleep overcame her and she napped again. Then it was a deep sleep. I blessed her and went on my way.