Emails from my Mother’s Bedside

Mon, Dec 19, 2011 at 4:54

Dear Deers,     My flight to A2 is at 8:30, getting in at 11:05 PM tonight. I hope someone wakes me up, or I may end up in Greenland! I will take a Metro Car straight to St. Joe’s, where my brother and I will stay with my mother. They cannot get the fluid off of her lungs, and are not sustaining her with any machines, per her wish. She has had a miserable time of it, but we hope she is no longer in pain. I don’t think she will know I’m there as she has fallen into unconsciousness. Thanks for all your offers of help. Your friendship is more than enough.     I love you all, K

Tues, Dec 21, 2011 at 7:30AM

Deers,     I miss you all! Hope you are ready for Christmas, and in the spirit! In the middle of the night it came to me that I should stop fretting about getting home. I need to stay here with John, whatever happens with Mom, so I think F is going to drive up Friday and we will create a Christmas that is already very different from what we thought it would be.

I don’t know how my mother is still alive. She is shutting down, they say. Knowing her strength, this could take some time. Her breathing has been exhaustingly labored, and now she has long pauses of apnea. They are being wonderful to her, and she looks peaceful even with the horrible breathing. She hasn’t eaten or had any water since Sunday. I am going to her house today to get a picture of my grandmother to take to her room. Well, that may be as much for me as for her. It can do double duty!

John and I slept on hospital chairs last night, and I am using the term ‘slept’ very loosely, but we plan to go home tonight. The nurses told us some people prefer to die when no one is with them, so we should not feel guilty about not being here every minute. How would anyone know that?     Love to you all, K

Weds, Dec 21, 2011 at 3:05AM

Dear B,     Thanks so much. Mother is still with us. She wouldn’t be, if she knew what was going on. We’re in limbo. Can’t prepare. Can’t plan when to go home. Can’t even say goodbye, because she’s out of it. Not ready for Christmas. Probably won’t even get home. John and Monica have cancelled their trip to Nashville. I miss you all and our walks. I’ll try to be upbeat in the next communication, as soon as something good happens. Pretty grim so far. Marianne did come yesterday with her music to sing Christmas carols to Mom. One of the nurses walked in the room and sang harmony with her. I guess you could say having a big, old cry was a good thing. Marianne is a beautiful singer, but we always laughed at her embarrassing Mom because she would burst into song in “inappropriate” places, like grocery store aisles, and waiting rooms. Mother never did like any of us to call attention to ourselves, or to her, even in a good way.     Love, K

Wed, Dec 21, 2011 at 7:35PM

Thanks for your email. I am sitting with Mom now. John has gone to get us some dinner. She has opened her eyes a few times today, but not really to see anything. She’s getting no food or water, and no meds, and still she’s hanging on. John has instructions to just shoot me before it gets to this point for me. The trade-off for a long life, I gess, is that you get to have a “journey” in order to end it. If Mom were able, I’m certain she would say, no thanks. They are taking very good care of her, and she seems comfortable. I’m not going to go home for Christmas. I need to be here. I’m certain my mother wants to go, and I wish that peace for her.     -k-

Thurs, Dec 22, 2011 at 6:41AM

Hello Deers,     I’m turning into a blob.  The most exercise I’ve gotten is pushing the revolving door at the entrance of St. Joe’s Hospital! Don’t worry about the group falling apart, B. The real definition of falling apart is occurring here in A2.  Walking will resume!

John and I are making progress, as hard as it is to handle matters of the end of Mom’s life before she draws her last breath. Went to Meuhlig’s Funeral Home yesterday, which was oddly comforting since it is an A2 institution, and we have gathered there to say goodbye to people throughout my entire life. We got past the casket thing with me remarking that you could have a great party for that amount of money, and the funeral director (who might be 25, but maybe not quite) agreeing. So, I decided I liked him. He pulled out their records for David and Dad, and we had a great time remembering things past. David’s death was only 13 months ago, but even that, and all that went with it, seem OK. My Granddad was buried by Meuhlig’s, way back in 1947. This morning, if John ever wakes up, we are going to see her attorney to find out what we have to do to get started there.

Can you tell by the length of this that it is very early, John is still asleep, he does not stock decaf, and I have nothing else to do? You can delete if you want, as I am just rambling.

I’m sticking with my plan for John to shoot me before I get into the condition Mom is in, but I’ve added cremation to the instructions (ha, ha! I just looked back at the word cremation, and auto correct had written castration. Damn you, auto correct!) Anyway, will you all scatter my ashes at Radnor, someplace where they won’t get caught up in all the algae? Bad enough to think of being run over by a reindeer, being eaten by one would be worse. John says if I want to be shot AND cremated, we could accomplish both with a fire bomb and save the bullet. Whatever. A dilaudid drip, however, with no restriction on extra pushes isn’t the worst thing, but it does nothing for bed head, so I’m sticking with the first plan.

No report on Mother’s condition, as it is more of the same. Just waiting and waiting. Tried to get her interested in our game of Scrabble last night, but no go. It’s bad when she passes up a game of any sort. Marianne’s entrance and greeting when she came in yesterday did cause her to raise her head off the pillow a little, and smile. A real smile, even though her eyes were not focused! If you could see her condition, you would know how remarkable that was.

Enough. I’ll make one more glance through what I’ve written, in case auto correct got in there again when I wasn’t looking.     Love to you all, -k-

Hi L,     I’m thinking of you and your family gathering and hoping it is a great Christmas for you.  You deserve some calm after the storm. Peace on earth and all that. Thanks for helping out with the mail. L will be there Monday until we get home. I have no idea when that will be, but I’m very tired of the four changes of clothes I brought! Mother’s schedule and mine are not in sync.     -k-

Fri, Dec 23, 2011 at 11:00AM

Deers,     My Mother passed away a little while ago.

John and I had come in a little late, just in time to see one of the nurse technicians clean, curl and comb her hair. We were sitting with her, and I was paying close attention, wiping her lips and mouth with moisture every few minutes with the swab they had given us. My phone rang, and it was Robert. We talked briefly, and when he asked if there was any change in Gramma, I looked at her and couldn’t see her breathing. Thinking it might be an apnea episode, I told Robert to wait, and not to hang up! I alerted John, and when we were certain there was no breath, I went to the nurse’s station. On my way, I put the phone  back to my ear and told Robert that he had been given the blessing of being present when his grandmother took her last breath. He had been feeling sad because he hadn’t been able to get up to see her, but she waited for him! For him, and for having her hair done, probably.

No matter what was happening in her life, or in the world, or maybe even in the universe, my mother had a standing appointment to have her hair done once a week. Once, as usually happened, John had one of his accidents while I was staying with him and Dave. I forget which broken arm or injury this was, but I called Mom. Maybe she was too used to these calls to be alarmed, but she calmly told me I would have to call Dad to take care of it, because she had a hair appointment. Maybe if I’d been incoherent, or screaming about loss of blood or an appendage, she might had risen to action, but, I, too, was so used to it, that I probably sounded quite matter-of-fact.

Mon, Dec 26, 2011 at 5:59AM

Hi Deers,     Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts. I can feel your warmth, and wish I was there to walk today.

Tonight EAS flies in. Tomorrow Robert, Elizabeth and the three little boys. Services on Wednesday. We will probably return on Friday. I will only be on round 3 of my four changes of clothing. I have been putting off looking in the clothes bag Frank brought with what I’m wearing to the services. I can always run to Briarwood and get something if he put in the wrong items. I think Chico’s was right across from Build-a-Bear, where I took Walker in November. Or, maybe I’ll just pop into Build-A-Bear! They step on a pedal, fluff you up, choose an outfit from the display case, and you’re good to go!

We are going through my mother’s papers in preparation for a meeting with the trustee tomorrow. There was no chance for Elizabeth and me to be disorganized, but at least we are not hoarders of file folders, labels and handwritten ledger sheets that list every piddling detail of our lives. I now know, and am impressed by, the fact that a three day trip to Colorado that she treated me to when I was at at the UofM cost $200. She saved the ledger. Also, a ledger of every accident and hospitalization we kids had. I’m on there once for appendicitis, David once for something minor, and then John fills the rest of the page.  Frank says we have a case here of over-organization, so many duplicating files that we can’t be sure if we’ve found the pertinent one or not. I even found a plastic storage bowl filled with hundreds of those blasted, tiny little sticker things you take off fruit from the grocery store. Please, Mom, come back and tell me why!

Again, it’s early, house is quiet. I have no computer, and nothing to do until it gets light. I do, at least, have some coffee, but I will stop rambling. I thought of you all over the weekend and wished you all peace and joy and good times with people you love, even if they sometimes drive you nuts. My brother assured me that that particular feeling is always entirely mutual. So, he thinks I keep my house too cold, and that drives him nuts! I’m not sure I will win that war here if I have to wage it with a furnace man!

Tues, Dec 27, 2011 at 8:00AM

Snow here! 1-3 inches! They have these funny looking machines that come around and shovel the snow off the streets. Imagine that!

Wed, Dec 28, 2011 at 5:32AM

I can hardly wait to get home! It looks like we will probably be able to drive home on Friday. I’ve heard a lot of chatter from you all about walking, but has there been an actual, honest to goodness walk? I hear it has rained just about the whole time I’ve been gone.

Kids are here. Bedlam! They were so excited yesterday when they got here over the trip, being together, and then the snow, that I couldn’t help thinking how nice a motel room would be. Last week I told Karsten we were going to say goodbye to Gramma Fuller. Now that he’s here to  say it, I wonder what he’ll think about not being able to see her to do it?

I’ll be glad when we get through this day     Love to all, K

Thurs, Dec 29, 2011 at 6:32AM

Dear Deers,     I will see you soon.  We will leave A2 tomorrow after the realtor comes by. Needless to say, I’m ready. G, I’m very sorry to hear that this “thing” you have will not let go. Get well! Maybe by next Monday the Deers will all be together again.

Yesterday was lovely. I’m sure my mother would have been pleased. Our excellent funeral director selected a great minister to conduct the family service at the funeral home. Our chairs were circled in order for it to be informal, and he spoke beautifully and often on a level the little boys could understand. William and Karsten were quite broken up. Walker had ants in his pants the whole day. Karsten, at 5, even remarked that, “Walker isn’t acting sad”. By the time we got to the reception, we were arguing over which one of us would be the one to put him in a closet with a heavy weight to bar the door. I was as tired as it is possible to be when it was over, but had a great feeling. Plus, I had to  hold it together until after our family dinner at Zingermann’s Roadhouse. It turned out to be the perfect ending touch to the day, and I could feel Mom’s spirit with us. THIS time she could hear, and enjoyed the conversation! I was not the one to make the reservation, because I thought the perfect finish would be to go home and immediately fall into bed! You can always count on Elizabeth to arrange a party!

What day is complete without plumbing problems? Not a good thing with eight people in the house. Called the plumber right after Elizabeth called upstairs to announce that the third toilet had overflowed. Plumber was here before she was out of the shower. Instead of viewing that as a minor miracle, she was a little irritated. Of course, she didn’t know we had called the plumber, and didn’t think it was funny that we were waiting in the hall for her to get out. Then everyone had to leave for the service before he was finished, so he had to lock up and let himself out of the house.

Found some hilarious art I did of little brother John that Mother saved, among so many other unexpected treasures. The proportions are off, and the hands look like hooks, but the ears are perfect! He was probably 5, so I would have been 14 when I did this.

Can’t wait to be walking with you all again.     Love, k

Fri, Dec 30, 2011, 4:45 PM

Hey, Little Brother,     We’re home. The trip was uneventful. I hated to  leave you, but home has never, ever looked so good.  You were a good son. The best. You’re a good brother. The best. I’ll see you soon, and call you often. Whatever you need, just let me know. Try not to call when I have a hair appointment, OK?  :-)

PS   Would you send me that write-up from the paper that Mother saved? The one where the police interviewed you after you lit the gunpowder you found in the park when you were supposed to be playing Little League ball, and it exploded in your face? It was that day when I was babysitting you, waiting for you at the house.  Remember?