It's the season where the trees, after one final blaze of colorful glory, drop their leaves. The leaves die and the trees stand bare, waiting for spring and their annual resurrection.
The grass lays brown and dormant, and in some parts of the world, frost attacks plants and early snow covers the ground.
This is the season of my mother's dying.
This is the season of my mother's dying.
Last week, I learned that my mother was back in the hospital with another blood clot in her leg. This is the same leg that's developed blood clots before. It was blood clots in her leg that sent her to assisted living two years ago.
In March, she fell and hurt her shoulder. Ever since then, it's been a slow march downhill.
I've only watched her dying from afar. My sister has been coordinating her care, advocating for her rights, and trying to make her as comfortable as possible.
Yesterday--in fact, nearly 24 hours ago--during my ladies' group, my sister texted me and told me that after a meeting with a doctor, they'd made the decision to transfer our mother to hospice care. She's sleeping a lot and no longer very responsive.
Yesterday--in fact, nearly 24 hours ago--during my ladies' group, my sister texted me and told me that after a meeting with a doctor, they'd made the decision to transfer our mother to hospice care. She's sleeping a lot and no longer very responsive.
Tomorrow afternoon I will get on a plane, the first airplane flight I've taken since my son was a baby, and fly home to tell my mother good-bye.
I have no illusions. My mother probably will not know I am there. The person I'm going to see will not be the mother I knew.
I have no illusions. My mother probably will not know I am there. The person I'm going to see will not be the mother I knew.
Dying is ugly, grotesque, and disgusting. This season of my mother's dying is cruel. It's cost her her cognition, her independence, her speech, and soon it will cost her her life.
She's lived for 79 years, 10 months, and seven days. She lived 35 of those years married to our father, and then, nearly 25 of those years without him, the man she called her "best friend". She's had two children and two grandchildren. She cared for children, an ill husband, took in my sister and her child after a divorce, cared for her mother.
Now, in this season of her dying, with her body worn out, it is time for her to be cared for.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
She's lived for 79 years, 10 months, and seven days. She lived 35 of those years married to our father, and then, nearly 25 of those years without him, the man she called her "best friend". She's had two children and two grandchildren. She cared for children, an ill husband, took in my sister and her child after a divorce, cared for her mother.
Now, in this season of her dying, with her body worn out, it is time for her to be cared for.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
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