Sunday, May 27, 2012

Perspective


Whatever I was whining to myself about came to a screeching halt on Friday morning, when I got the call that my mother had taken a bad fall and was on her way to the ER. That sweeps everything stark.

What is important... what is stupid piddly shit... made instantly clear.

Children don't have this perspective yet. Jacob has been clingy, Ethan morose, petulant; they want their mom.

So do I.

Here's the update I don't want to give: 

It's touch and go right now. She is in the ICU. A machine is breathing for her. Her blood pressure is being supported by drugs. She is surrounded by machines, tubes, equipment. A thousand IVs hang around her. Lines snake themselves all over her body. Monitors beep and hum. The thrum and hiss of the ventilator sets the bass beat.

The unquiet quiet of an ICU.

I made a difficult decision on Friday to take the risk and do something (surgery) that may just be the road to killing her quickly, versus doing nothing and walking the path of certainly killing her slowly.

To not have had the surgery, to choose the "do nothing" approach would have meant a month - or two or three - on complete bed rest.  And bed rest plus an elderly person such as my mother - with cognitive/memory issues and a bum heart - usually equals an excruciating, permanent slide into the abyss.

And yet, whatever the immediate outcome, the long term is still not good. I have been losing her bit by bit for quite a number of years now, hastened much by my father's death. (Can it really have been two years and counting?)

The incline of her decline has steepened in the past few months. I really have felt like I'm watching the color fade from her spirit, before my very eyes.

And yet now that feels glacial slow compared to what has transpired in the last three days.

In one word:

Freefall

The hip repair surgery went well, but...

BUT

BUT

(Like that old joke, "The operation was a success, but unfortunately the patient...")

She was not a good candidate for surgery.

Her old, huge, much used heart is tired and worn out.

The valves don't work like they should, like they used to (though one has been tricky since the beginning: she, a little girl with a heart murmur).

So even though they took a zillion extra precautions.  Were oh so careful to try to not unduly stress her heart during the surgery. It's still surgery. Things had to happen. Things her heart did not like.

The surgery went well. She could stand on that leg (if she could wake up and stand).

But her heart needs the help now.

The machines. The slow drip of the IVs.

And so she slumbers deep below the level of consciousness; sedated, kept under to avoid the unbearable discomforts her body is enduring in its struggle to remain alive.

And yet still, she is there, some small part of her. The spark of her life flickering but not guttered.

I sit by her side (until they toss me out for the night).

I cannot touch her skin; she winces, grimaces at even the gentlest caress.

So I stroke her hair, smooth it down; fan it out on the pillow, fingertips following the ripples of her silver curls out to the ends.

I whisper in her ear. Words of love. Of encouragement.

Is it cruel that I ask her to hang in there for yet one more day, that I am not willing to let go?

I will accept what comes.

She may fight and rise.

She may release, and fall.

But not yet. Please, not yet.

I want my mommy.



46 comments:

  1. Oh Varda, my love and prayers with you and your mother. We are all here with you during this difficult time. Been thinking about you all night.

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  2. Oh oh oh. I can't even imagine. Thinking of you and sending warm thoughts your way.

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  3. Oh my do you have a way with words - such a beautiful post. My thoughts and prayers are with you, your mother and family.

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  4. This is a beautiful, if heartbreaking post. I am so sorry you and your mother are going through this. I'm praying for you both.

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  5. Sending warm thoughts your way. I think you are a wonderful advocate for your mother.

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  6. oh, my heart is breaking for you/with you. You have captured the emotions of your beating heart and laid them here with such tenderness and eloquence that I am breathless. Thank you for taking the time.

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  7. Oh sweetie. I'm so sorry. ((hugs))

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  8. This is the hardest point of life. My prayers are with you. I know exactly what you are going through. We have to come to terms with the unknowns and just pour out our love. She knows. Sending you lots of hugs!

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  9. I'm so sorry, Varda. I will be thinking of you and your mom all day, hoping you both fight and rise.

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  10. Praying for you and your mom, Varda.

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  11. When you did not post last night -- and truly I looked every half hour all evening and until I fell asleep at 11ish and still no post -- and then again when I first awoken earlier this morning, I feared/intuited/understood the worse. I SAW it in my mind's eye. My heart goes out to you, Varda. I have now lived through this twice. It is so so so hard. Love love love love. If you need me, you know where I am. We are all here for you. You are so loved. We are all praying to all the Gods and Goddesses that govern our worlds and the worlds beyond this one and your mother's old body will do what it must. I know you so well and I know you will have the strength and wisdom, grace and understanding, to meet whatever path your beloved mother may take.

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  12. Varda. I am so sorry to hear it. You are the best daughter in the world and your mother is so lucky to have you. Praying for both of you and wishing you peace.

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  13. Your words are so beautiful and so brave, I am sobbing at my computer. I'm so sorry. You and your mom are in my heart and in my thoughts and I'll be here however the next few days go. With much love.

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  14. Varda:

    Huge hugs to you. My prayers are with you.

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  15. So sorry. I don't think we ever stop needing our mommys.

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  16. I dread this happening with my Mom. Absolutely dread it. I can't imagine what you're going through. Thoughts and prayers with you during this difficult time.

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  17. I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish so many things.

    I'm so sorry.

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  18. iamsoveyrsorryforyourheartache. you are living a life we all will live, you've only arrived sooner than some. we look to you in awe and hope that we too can be as strong, steadfast, and kind a daughter as you have proven to be. your mom raised a good one she did, I hope i do as well a job as she.
    xoxoxox

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  19. Oh, Varda.

    I am so sorry.

    SO very sorry.

    To love much is to hurt much.

    You are so blessed to have been loved this much, that you cannot imagine a world without her in it.

    I'll pray for peace and healing.

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  20. I hope and pray for your comfort, and for peace for you and for your mother, whatever she is able to perceive right now. I'm so sorry you have to walk this path with her, but I hope she knows you're right beside her, whatever happens.

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  21. Varda I am so sorry and so sad. Please know there are many thinking of you all.

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  22. You captured your experience so that I felt your heartache, but I do not dare to say I know your heartache. I'm praying for you and your mom. Ellen

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  23. Varda, I'm so sorry. Thoughts and prayers are with you and your mother.

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  24. Oh Varda...I am sending so many prayers and love, support and faith to you and your mom. You are in my heart until the tunnel lights up. Please let me know if you need anything ....anything.

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  25. oh how my heart aches for you right now.

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  26. I got choked up reading this. It's never easy watching someone slip away. Prayers to you, your mother and your entire family.

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  27. I am so sorry. I hope that whatever happens you find peace in the outcome. Your post was eloquent and beautiful and I hope your mother gets a chance to read it.

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  28. Varda I am struggling with words, but I think Carrie perfectly said what I am not eloquent enough to say.

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  29. Words fail me, but I wish you well.

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  30. Varda, I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. Anyone who has the pleasure of knowing you knows what a loving and caring daughter you are. So does she. Both of you are in my thoughts. Big love, B.

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  31. UGH. So sad and upsetting. Hoping for the best.

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  32. Varda,


    My heart hurts for you right now. You managed to make a sad post into a beautiful piece. And that last line got me...

    Sending hugs and prayers.

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  33. I want my mommy indeed. What could be more primal?

    Glad for some encouraging updates on fb. Thinking of you all.

    xoxoxox

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  34. Wow. This was intense and deeply painful to read. I recently read an article in New York magazine that addressed this situation - and now, with technology and choices and everything that comes with it, we are forced to deal with unthinking situations. Well told, despite the difficulty of the situation.

    Here's the link to the article: http://nymag.com/news/features/parent-health-care-2012-5/

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  35. Oh my heart, Varda. I'm so sorry. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

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  36. I am so sorry. You are in my thoughts.

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  37. I watched my father do the same thing. I will do with my mother soon also.

    I am with you every step of the way

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  38. Thanks for sharing your story on such a difficult topic.....

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  39. You'll be in my prayers. I just lost my father after a long illness, and I know how hard the waiting and wondering is.

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  40. My heart is with you and your mother. She is lucky to have you by her side. I wish there was something I could say to make things better. Instead, I'll just pray for you.

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  41. There is no comfortable way to watch a mother go. I've been talking about this with a friend who is dealing with exactly the same thing you are right now. Mine went too young, too fast. And yours, and my friend's, you watch them decline. Is one way easier than the other? Neither is easier. It's the same in the end, loss. I feel for you. I know what it's like. I'm sorry.

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  42. I wish you strength during this difficult time. Be there as much as you can for her, as hard as it may be.

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  43. I'm so sorry! My heart goes out to you and I will keep you and your mom in my prayers! Stopping by from yeah Write.

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  44. Feeling for you all so, so much, this is absolutely heartbreaking to read and hear never mind go through. May you have peace and stength and I really hope your mum makes it through. :)

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I am so sorry to have to turn word verification back on, but the spam-bots have found me - yikes!