Thursday, December 18, 2014

Try again

I wrote a very long post yesterday which was read by Elephant's Child before it disappeared. I think I pressed a wrong button somewhere and I keep getting error notices from Blogger that also disappear before I can grab the error number to email them about the error.

Nov 30, see mother, very ill.  Home at 6 and phone call, mother much worse, needs us.
I sit from 6 til 8 next morning in a chair designed by the Spanish Inquisition and cripple myself.
She really was dying, nothing fake about that.  Oxygen, morphine, anti-psychotic drugs for the terrors, struggling to breathe, eyes fallen back in her head and red in a pale face.

By the next Friday, she is sitting up in bed after a shower and eating breakfast.

Saturday morning, deep in the only sleep I've had since the last Saturday, the phone rings.  After I calm the heart beat down to non heart attack, I realize it's mother.  She's rung my number but can't remember how to talk into the phone.  I hang up.

Sunday, she is off the morphine by injection, no oxygen, other drugs gone just some ventilin to clear the lungs.

I don't ring, take her calls or go to see her for 4 days.  Something has snapped inside me.  After sitting for so long with half my mind watching her die and the other half preparing a funeral, I've lost it completely.  I cannot get my mind to reboot to normal and I'm dealing with the fact that I am filled with anger that even dying, she managed to manipulate me into being with her because she was frightened.

I refuse to go to the Christmas Party. I go down the next day and she has more visitors than she can handle.  Tells me off for not getting them out.  Afternoon tea is party leftovers, which I don't get so I can't tell her not to eat it.  I do tell her to put the bed up but she's in charge and doesn't so she shoves the chocolate crackle slice into her mouth, doesn't chew it and chokes.  As in purple in the face, no breath choking but manages to bring up most of it with much coughing and more choking.
In between coughs and flying crackles she points to the Kleenex box so I move it closer to her and she looks in and says, "Wash my teeth, there's chocolate on them". The carers are hovering around by this time so I pick up my bags and leave.

Only been back once, yesterday and only because she needed her DVD viewer because she was tired of looking at the ceiling.  I didn't intend to take it, the BOH was going to do it and called in on Monday night to pick it up.  By the way did I have any painkillers, his hand was hurting from using it to break his 8 foot fall onto a concrete floor.  I take one look, tell him to get to the hospital as it was broken, no it's not, he just needs painkillers.  Tuesday night I get a call, do I have anything stronger than the pills I handed out the night before because they don't give out painkillers at the hospital where he is having his arm plastered from wrist to elbow.

My sister asked mother if she saw anyone from the other side when she was dying. By the way mother wasn't dying, just a little ill for a day or so.  Yes, she saw her mother and my father and sister asked why didn't you go with him?  Mother said he told her to go back.  I swear if he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him.

12 comments:

Elephant's Child said...

Back again. Reading again. And still in awe that you haven't succumbed to the lure of a padded jacket with a room to match. I remember feeling rage and exhaustion and rather a lot of other emotions when my own mother was taking her leave.
Hugs.

River said...

I don't like to speak ill of people, but your mum sounds quite a bit like my grandma, who made my mum's life hell. I could tell you stories, but like I said, I don't like to speak ill of people.
your plan to stay away as much as you can is a good one. Next time she is like that just accidentally step on the oxygen tube or something. (*~*)

JahTeh said...

EC and River, she's loved by everyone at the gulag. She beckons, they run but they weren't locked up with her at home for 4 years. It's time I took a stand before I go under.

River said...

That's Grandma. She beckoned and my mum ran. From Australia to Germany for cripes sake! More than once. to a woman who refused to know her grand children.

Elephant's Child said...

And my mother too. She set up flaming hoops and we jumped through them.

Andrew said...

'Dear God, I know you are taking me soon but please allow me the indulgence of running my children through the hoops for a bit'.

River, what an interesting history. Tell us about it on your blog. Your grandchildren would like to know, I am sure.

PS Jahteh, I have been wavering whether to email you or not. Thanks for the update.

JahTeh said...

River, I agree with Andrew, your history should be blogged. Lord knows I've insulted most of my family over the last 6 years.

EC, she got a hell of a shock when I told her she was a selfish bitch last week. According to her she's never been selfish in her entire life but there is overt selfish (her twin sister) and there's covert selfish.

Andrew, You'll be alright, R is taking up the slack with your mother. Just think what it would be like if she had only you to manipulate.

Ann ODyne said...

'Passive aggression' is another term for that "who me? I didn't do anything to you." performance.
Sympathy re BOH. get him a hand brace for xmas. chemists, about $60, he will need it for driving aches after plaster off. Always go straight to chemist from hospital or dentists while injuries a fresh to support request for codeine.

River said...

Andrew and JahTeh; there's not much to tell, only bits that my mum told me, but piecing those bits together explains a lot about why my mum was the way she was. I don't think my kids would be happy with the exposure.

Davoh said...

Um, JT, am not sure what the 'update' on this saga is - but will throw in a, perhaps far distant, HUG.

JahTeh said...

Annie O, hospital again and now he has two breaks, another plaster next week when the swelling goes down and this time he took the sling so his arm wouldn't hang down and hurt so much.

Thank you Davo, a Merry Christmas to you.
The saga is my mother and her dying swan act but this time she really looked like going. Alas not.

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