Memories

The outpouring of condolences and sympathy has been greatly appreciated over the past few days, thank you. Many have asked if there is something that can be done to help or if there is anything we need, and the offer is greatly appreciated, but I have had a difficult time coming up with anything in reply. However, I think I've finally come up with something: if you have any pictures of Mom or stories to share about interactions with her over the years (I only just learned, for instance, that Mom was a deft skier and actually taught Dad how to ski), please send them my way and I'll make sure to get them included in the memory book that is being put together.

Scanning and emailing are the best and simplest ways to get these materials to us, but if those means are unavailable, please feel free to send hard copies to us by mail. If you need the address, please call or email (I don't want to post it here for fear of it being captured by junkmail impresarios).

The Inevitable

We did our best to inform people as quickly as possible today, but chances are we didn't get to everyone, so for those who were not aware, Mom passed away today around 1 PM. She went quietly in her sleep, and as Dick and Beth could attest (they visited her a couple hours before it happened), she was looking more peaceful than she has in months.

There are no services planned (at Mom and Dad's request) and Mom will be cremated, but the sisters are putting together a photo and memory book that will presented at some point down the road. For those interested in attending, I will let you know as soon as something is planned.

This is hardly the way I wanted things to go for Mom, but at least she's no longer in pain and can finally rest.

Holding

Having checked in with Mom on a daily basis over the past week, it's clear that she's not improving very much. Her food intake was down to about 10% as of last weekend, and in the past few days that amount has decreased to practically nothing. She appears to be unable to swallow (food, water or medication), so she's losing weight and her left side seems to be seizing periodically, either due to restlessness or lack of anti-seizure meds. Fortunately, her morphine drop is still going so she's not in any residual pain from her operation or anything else.

Neither the hospital nor the hospice staff are sure, but it appears that Mom may have had another stroke during surgery on her arm, so there has been almost no movement on her right side. Her ability to communicate is severely diminished, and during our visits she fades in and out of consciousness, only able to say a few words. The rest of what she is able to say is unintelligible, but the look in her eyes and her facial expressions during those brief lucid moments show that she is connected, if only for a few minutes at a time. Our visits thus have been mostly composed of holding her hand, talking to her, telling her about our adventures, telling her how much we love her.

For anyone considering a visit (and you're welcome to do so), please be aware that the sight of her in this condition is a bit of shock, so be prepared.

Far From Great News

Mom has been moved up to the 7th floor at St. Vincent's to free her room up for a cardiac patient, but her condition is not getting a whole lot better. She was a little more lucid when working with an orthopedist today, and they are going to take her off one of her pain meds so they can try and localize the origin of her continuing pain (the orthopedist said the arm looks great and the stitches can come out, but she continues to moan occasionally in pain).

Dr. Unger was also up there yesterday morning, and at the time she was running a low-grade fever and she is beginning to show some fluid in her lungs. The cause of the pneumonia is unclear, and there are also some kidney function issues that, while not currently threatening, show that her kidneys are not performing as well as they could. She is not eating very much, even though Kathleen, Janet and Bev have all been up to visit and help feed her, and there is some concern that she is not able to keep taking all her necessary medication.

Given all this, Dr. Unger has made a recommendation that Mom be moved to hospice care at Maryville. It's probably the hardest decision Dad's ever had to make, but in the interest of her comfort and knowing full well that she is miserable at St. Vincent's in her current state, Dad and I agreed that this was the best move. The word "hospice" of course carries a lot of baggage with it, but there is always a chance that Mom could recover. The most important thing at this point is to keep Mom as comfortable as possible so her body can do its best to fight its way back to health.

Mom is probably going to be moved to Maryville tomorrow, and once she is, I'll let you know where she is located. Flowers, cards and visits will be most welcome.

Just a Little More Info

Dad talked to the ER doctor, and there's indeed a clot in her leg, and there was 2.5L of urine being retained. They're moving her up to room 644 for tests and observation. She's pretty out of it and they're giving her more pain medication, and they are still concerned as to why she's feeling pain in her arm, as they were thinking it should be subsiding by now...might be circulation-related, but who knows. She also had a slight fever earlier in the week, but that seems to have backed off.

So that was a curveball

I've seen Mom the past few evenings and though she's been groggy from the meds, she's been relatively cheerful and seemed to be getting better. But Dad told me today that Maryville called to inform him that she was complaining of pain in spite of her oxycontin and that she was feeling pain in her leg.

His first thought (and theirs) was blood clots, so they took her to the ER for a sonogram and to monitor her status. We haven't heard much since, but my understanding is that she's still at St. V's.

More as I find it out.

Settled In

I've been to visit Mom twice now, and I've already seen a marked improvement in her condition just in those two short visits. We've arrived in the evening both times, and just about dinner time, so she has been receiving her meds just prior to our visit. This means we generally have about 15 minutes before the fog really begins to set in and she's off to loopy land (which, we have to remind her, is much better than being in pain from her recovering arm), but she's taking her meals in the group room now (which she wasn't before) and she's looking awake and aware and even talkative when we've met.

The staff still don't know how long she'll be there (since it all depends on the arm), but we should know more next week when she's on the last leg of recovery. Things though are looking good, and we're able to frequently visit and see for sure that she's being treated well.

She's back in room 214 if you want to drop by and say hello.