This Is Not Fun. But It Is Interesting.

From my prior post you can imagine, can't you? Wow. The pneumonia was perhaps pneumonia but wasn't the cause. The back pain she suffered wasn't just back pain. It was caused by some kind of clot event which caused part of her intestine to die, causing a systemic infection. Only the CT scan was able to reveal the damage. We were assured this was one of the hardest diagnoses to make. A similar thing happened to waiting-for-death Israel PM Ariel Sharon very recently.

I've been through all manner of emotions. Anger at myself for not seeing the illness for what it was or perhaps not being aggressive enough in her care. Anger for things I thought. Things unsaid. Our last conversation was mundane. She was telling me things she wanted me to buy for her at the grocery, what pajamas and robe she wanted, to wash her slippers and to clean her bathroom. My brother took the time to tell her he loved her, to talk to her about God and Jesus. While the illness was likely terminal, I did not expect her death so quickly. Yes I recognized her labored breathing as being reminiscent of my father's the morning he died. Yes I was cognizant of the nurse's repeated difficulty to record her blood pressure and the inconsistent oxygen levels blipping on the screen. I understood what the nurse was saying when she said her labs were all over the map and her kidney function was out of whack. But it didn't coalesce into a single emotion. I understood the meaning, not the gravity.

My brother said I should've been angry with him because we went back to his place so he could get cleaned up, shower and see his wife and kids. I went with him. I don't know why. Normally I would've stayed. Yes Mother told me to go to the house. She was a bit adamant. She had gotten very angry with me because I was insisting she finish drinking her CT dye. I'd had an abdominal CT scan before to look for inflammation (none found) so I knew what she should expect. I knew she was in and out of the CT very quickly. Perhaps it wasn't a quirk of my exhausted brain losing time. I was too quickly since even the ER guy who takes and brings patients for tests as needed told me outright, "She can't be done, it's too soon." It took a few extra minutes but she was finished already. I took that as a bad sign.

Somehow my uncle made it from near Los Angeles. My brother's wife had called to tell him about the surgery. After we saw her, and were being ushered away so she could take her trip to the morgue. My brother wanted to take the near elevators and I suggested we go back the way we came. It was fortunate our uncle had sought refuge in the cooler hall seats than the warm waiting room and we went as I directed. Because of that confluence of events, we were able to get him in to see her before she was taken away. I saw a nurse bring him a small box of tissue but don't know what was said. From there I went to Admitting to pay the bill. I remember mother getting hospital bills up to a year after father passed away. She was going to be paid in full. It was $250. I had already had one forgetful moment when I thought I'll have to tell Mother that her brother had come to see her.

I hated going back to my brother's place. I needed quiet and not noisy children. My nephew wanted to come back here with his dad and me but I expressed objection. It really wasn't any place for him. The house needed some cleaning, calls had to be made, I had to let our neighbor know. He took it very hard. Since mother and he were both spouses of stroke-victims, they had some things to share. He'd been good to us since father had passed on. I think I'll go see him tomorrow and return the useful papers he gave me filled with phone numbers. His wife reminded me of my four year old niece. When she asked how my mom was doing, I lied. I'm not given to lies. I guess I finally learned the value of a lie when the person is non-competent, could be very upset and unable to cope with her emotions. She was able to catch on that she'd been hurt from the general conversation but her husband only said yes that she'd been hurt. I mourn his struggle: a widower in effect but not in reality. Like mother was told by one of father's doctors.

Mother was lucky, in a way, she didn't face the lengthy dehumanizing condition that father did. One of no bowel control, no real memory, uncontrolled emotions. She would be glad. It seems so inhumane.

She seems fairly peaceful but not as peaceful. She didn't have the slight smile of her mother. That would've been impossible with her false teeth removed and a breathing tube down her throat--it had to stay in by law. She did not have the terrorized face of my father. I don't think they prepared the body because her eyes had not been fully closed. My brother did that for her and yet one eyelid slid up slightly as if to spy on me. I signed off on an autopsy which had been recommended by the surgeon. Mother and I had spent many a conversation wondering what really killed father, what was really wrong when he needed so many transfusions. We regretted not asking for one but I think I was afraid that I might just see blame: something I overlooked, something we could've done more for him. I told her these things since I know she wasn't thrilled with the idea of being opened up.

I'm thankful she did not die at home. She wouldn't have wanted that and she was quite specific about wanting to be kept at the hospital rather than discharged for home.

This evening a call came to ask for permission to harvest eye, bone and skin tissue for transplants. When the caller mentioned cleft palate as a common use for skin tissue donations I knew I had to go with it. I know mother wasn't interested in organ donation (and she was too old anyway) but I think she'd like to know she was helping kids like my nephew. Mother adored him and began donations to charities who helped such kids.

I asked for a callback and phoned my brother to get his read. He was interested as was his wife. I don't know why her opinion was called for but I did not say anything; she's been very accommodating in recent weeks. I just don't need the stress--who does? I got the callback and did the recorded consent. There were a couple spots I might've second guessed with more time but other than keeping her parts in the US and not allowing her unused parts to be used for scientific study, I mostly went for the whole package. The interviewer was excited because of mother's relatively good health (except for the death part, of course) and basic clean living outside of cigarettes. I'm not interested in following her bits so I don't know if I'll read future mailings. I hope she'd not mad. We had assumed with her breast cancer history she couldn't donate at all but it's been nearly 20 years so it's no problem. It seems while I'm not the oldest child because of my co-residence with her I am the legal next of kin. Just as she wanted.

I did a lot of talking to my Vegas pal today. More time on the phone than in maybe forever. But it helped me get out a lot of things that weren't emotionally appropriate for my brother (or his family). He has his own grief right now. I needed someone with a better read on me and he was the nearest person. I appreciate his taking my calls. I did a lot of choking up tonight. The tissue donor call brought a lot things to a head: I felt like I could do one more thing for mother. We had both been disappointed when father had no interest from donors but we had no realistic expectations there would be any.

I'm going to try to sleep soon. I had a quick nap after an exhausting day. The cat is fed and watered. I have to feed the fish tonight and clean their tanks tomorrow. I'd been waiting so mother could help just like I waited to take the Christmas Tree down until she could help. Yes, it's still up but hasn't been lighted since 12th night if not before.

I need a break. More in a while.