Time Passes; A Generation Passes

I am amazed that I haven't written since March. But in looking back, I recall that my husband and I went to Ohio in late March to visit our daughter and her family. I was sick with bronchitis and felt miserable for a couple of weeks. When we got back it was time for Easter. The rest of April passed by pretty quickly. Then, in May, my mother who was 98 years old died rather suddenly. I had thought that I was basically prepared for her death since she was 98 years old.

I learned that I was not really prepared at all. I had hoped that when her time came she would simply die suddenly of a heart attack. But that did not happen. Instead, she developed a bowel obstruction that would have required surgery. She had been through this earlier at the age of 90. A few years later she had said that she was through with surgery. And she was not as strong at 98 as she had been at the age of 90. In the end we refused treatment, and I brought her back home from the hospital. That was a difficult decision to deal with. We had gone to the hospital on a Thursday. We came home on Friday afternoon. I called my sister and my daughters to let them know what was happening. They immediately made plans to come. However they did not make it in time. Mother was not able to sleep at all Friday night. I finally slept for about four hours. Saturday morning about 6:30 I went in to check on her. She said she was ready to get up, "put on her face" (an expression of an earlier era) and get dressed. I helped her to get ready for the family to visit. She walked across the room and sat in her recliner. I left her room about 7:00. When I returned at 7:20, she was gone.

Mother never had a broken bone in her life. She never had a joint replacement. Her mind was good until the moment she died. She prepared her own breakfast every morning until two days before she died. At that point, because of the bowel obstruction, she was unable to eat or drink. She was never an invalid. She had had several major surgeries, and afterwards, she immediately resumed her former activities. She often said, "I never dreamed I would live this long." When I would read to her something about someone who was 100 years old, she would say, "I feel sorry for them." She read murder mysteries and watched sports on tv. The day before she became ill we had gone to the library and then had done a little shopping.

She was well aware of the consequences of refusing surgery. She asked, "Is this suicide?" I assured her it wasn't. The surgeon had noted that she had a living will and he said that he considered surgery for her an extreme measure. I understood all of this, and I had felt that I was prepared for this kind of decision. However, when the moment came, I simply froze and had to have a few hours to come to terms with it. I am glad that I was able to deal with it and bring her home since that is what she wanted. My sister said that since she couldn't be with me she had prayed that I would have the strength to deal with it. It must be terrible for families where siblings can't agree on these kinds of issues.

My sister said that after she returned home she met a friend whose mother had also developed a bowel obstruction. This friend's mother was 92. Her surgeon did not want to do surgery, but the son said, "Well, we can't just let her die." So they did the surgery. She lived one week in the hospital.

Mother died May 7, 2010, the day before Mother's Day. We had a family memorial service for her on Mother's Day. Mother had outlived almost everyone she had known as friends. My sister, her husband and their two daughters, and my husband and my two daughters and I were here. So we were satisfied with just our family holding the service.