Tuesday Continues Before Susan arrived the nurse needed to change my mother’s diaper and bed sheets. She solicited my help. Soon, I remembered the first time my mother had a mess that I had to clean up. She could still move around a bit. I cleaned as much as I could, and she maneuvered to do the rest. However, I had to change the bed sheets, and no one was there to help me. So, I helped my mother to a chair where she moaned and groaned in agony from all the movement. I chastised her with, “Pray to Saint Jude or something!” For Catholics, Saint Jude is the patron saint of miracle cures and hopeless cases. What I was really saying was, ‘I can’t stand to hear you in pain, so stop it!’ After all, she hadn’t been able to walk in months. My mother complained about her suffering often. I was not mean- just tired. It was great when the Hospice aides finally arrived. Each shift, Mom received a sponge bath and a clean diaper. Never had she seen such pampering. Not since she was a baby. Today, as we removed the diaper, a very awake mother said, “What’s on fire? I smell smoke.” Petrified that the house was on fire, I made a mad dash out of the room. Looking around, I couldn’t find the smoke. Upon returning, the nurse smiled commenting, “She smells her own urine. It is so strong now. It smells sulfurous but it is not smoke.” Relieved, I continued to service the Hospice aide. Every time, I thought of fire or an emergency that would require a quick exit, I was reminded of how helpless Mom had become. It was frightening and very overwhelming. However, I knew if that emergency ever arrived, we’d find a way to drag her to safety. Afterwards this nurse left to eat her dinner, and I stayed in the room. It was too close to Wednesday. Mom began to raise her hands to Heaven again. She was talking. Unlike times when I could interrupt her chanting, this time her mind was locked into the other world. It was as if I wasn’t there as her arms were held high to the left hand corner of the room. For a fleeting moment, I resented that she was on the way out of my world, and I despised the angelic singing, today. This time, I was a bit resentful. It was my turn to be angry. Finally, Mom turned her attention back to me. We talked about the salmon. She grinned, “Yes, I ate delicious salmon at age ten.” That was all she said. I began to remember a sermon one Sunday about God’s children being the salmon of the Earth. “It is easier to give up and float down stream as a salmon. However, that means death to the promises of the journey’s end. The sinners give up.” Refraining from speaking aloud, Mom could hear my thoughts by now. “The salmon that keep swimming up stream against the current of sin will reach their original spawning ground. They will reproduce their good stock of heirs who will continue their traditions. Then, once back to their roots, their spawning ground, the salmon will give up their lives because their mission in life is complete.” I could hear this sermon from ten years ago echoing in my ears. My mother was back to her spawning ground, and she was done producing on this Earth. Leaving me behind to keep fighting the current, someday, I would return to this place from my own death. In the meantime, she was leaving her greatest possession behind with me. Worrying the most about Stacey, Mom wanted us to have the chance to taste the Heavenly salmon. Knowing she left Stacey in the correct place on Earth to taste that salmon, she revealed a plan to me. She simply said, “I’ll be back for you.” Shaking my head in true amazement, I noted, “I don’t doubt it.” Mom was notably weaker. All this entertaining was hard on her cancer-ridden body. She wanted ice and to be cooled off with wet face towels. I was chuckling as I passed through the living room. As I entered this room, I saw Susan with another nurse. “You should hear all she has been saying to me.” The nurse said, “These past few days we should have had a tape recorder so that people could hear all that your mother said.” Then, she added, “You should have written it all down so that you didn’t forget a word of it.” Neither nurse knew how clear a memory I have. I do not have photographic memory. However, I have “photographic ears.” Actually, I was born legally blind. To enter kindergarten Dr. G. performed milestone surgery on me. He took my eye out and partitioned the muscles. Since I always had weak sight, I compensated with my ability to recall what I heard. I remember crashing through many walls that I didn’t see in time. However, I never lost track of anything I heard. On college exams, I could bring myself back to the day of a particular lecture and hear the lecture verbatim. I could hear every inflection and mimic aloud the exact voice patterns. Many people who hear this story about Mom spoken aloud by me can hear the exact rhythms in her speech. Mimicking her style of speech, I make spectators laugh as I recount these events. Through their conversation with me, people feel burdens lifted as they receive the message she was delivering. It is a message mostly about love and the non-ending condition of the inner being. Looking right at these nurses, I reprimanded, “We don’t need a recorder. We have me. I am quite smart you know?” They answered simultaneously, “We know.” I was perplexed as to how they knew because I never quoted any great philosophers. I have never explained an algebraic formula to them. I rarely brought up my professional status. I didn’t read hard words from Funk & Wagnalls dictionary. In their presence, I mostly wore jeans and a T-shirt as any unpolished kid would. So, how did they realize I was smart? One nurse added, “How wonderful that you are close enough to your mother to be able to translate her thoughts.” She continued, “Many times these past weeks, I have not understood her speech. She doesn’t have her teeth in and her speech is slurred from the morphine.” She turned to Susan, “But this child gets every word. She understands every word.” Susan said, “I knew she was a bright child the moment I met her.” In my usual take-aback way, I returned their smiles. It was decided that it wasn’t necessary that we have a tape recorder available because we had me. Continuing back to Mom to give her the ice I was carrying, she was quieter. Much quieter. We just stared at each other. Then, she reiterated her messages, “Now, I am on the other side of the line. I can‘t come back to help you, here. There is Julie, Jenny, Stacey, and John.” Like a sudden revelation, “Oh, and there you are with them. Now, you take care of the children.” I nodded in acceptance as Susan and the nurse entered the room. Susan checked Mom’s vital signs then we left the room together. Once in the living room, Susan spoke, “There has been a change in your mother’s color since my last visit. She is paler.” Then she warned, “Her heart is still strong and her breathing patterns have changed but not enough to warrant a retreat on Wednesday.” “She will be gone Wednesday; you are wrong.” In spite of scientific fact, my mother would be gone tomorrow. Today, I knew God’s word was stronger than morphine and could bring change in our lives. If He told her she would be leaving on Wednesday, who were we to doubt Him? Finally, Susan told me of similar stories where people were close to predicting the hour of their death. However, then, she added that possibly I mistranslated the prediction. “Quite possibly, she said that she was leaving next Wednesday.” “No, “I broke her lecture, “She said she was leaving on Wednesday between 7 and 9 OR she’d have to wait another week.” “Like I said, maybe, she said se would be leaving next Wednesday, a week from now.” She went on to explain my mother’s condition. Then, Margie appeared. Susan took time to discuss the signs of approaching death with us. We got a lecture on the breathing changes that would occur before the coma and death. She told us that short of a bleed out, Mom had more time left than a day, in her professional opinion. Next, we talked about Mom’s behavior. She said she’d seen people raise their hands to praise their Maker. Mentioning candidly that most raise them to the left, Susan figured that this meant Heaven opens to the left. In the middle of our conversation, the Hospice nurse on duty said that the anti-nausea medication was low and so were the diapers. In fact, there were no diapers left. There was only one bed pad left as well. I was chosen to go pick up all these things. “Are you sure we need it? She is leaving tomorrow.” Angrily, they told me, “Cindy, go get these things, please!” Halfheartedly, I drove to the wrong store, calling them back for better directions. Many times to be sure a prescription can be filled; the Hospice people call many pharmacies. They forgot to mention which pharmacy had what I needed. Going to the store where they filled the prescription last time, I was lost. Margie answered the telephone. I asked her if I was about to waste money when Mom was leaving tomorrow. We giggled, and I went on to pick the necessary things. As I paid out $27, I thought, ‘This prescription will never be opened.’ I couldn’t find bed pads. So I went back to the house for further instructions. This time Margie left with me on the journey to waste money on products our mother would never use. Margie knew that I was right. However, to please Dad and the nurses, we were about to waste more of my money. Upon our return, Susan left and Margie’s husband wanted to leave, too. So Margie could stay, I offered to drive her home when I left. Alone, Andrew went home, and we stayed. One of the Hospice nurses had told us an eerie story about an old woman she had taken care of, “It was late so I went in to check the very quiet woman. As I entered the room, I saw a glow just above her body. As I turned on the light, the older woman, who was alive, looked startled. This old lady told me she’d been outside her body. Within minutes this lady died.” It became apparent that in the hours we spent driving all over town and talking to the Hospice people that my mother had become unusually quiet. It was near 10 p.m. when the nurse, Margie, and I raced down the hall to determine why this lady, our mom, was suddenly so still. There was a low intensity light on in the room. Finding her alive, they changed her diaper, opening the package of bed pads just purchased. Placing one under Mom was hard because she was barely conscious and not really responding. Then, they spent ten minutes or an eternity trying to awaken her. I stood back simply watching them. Finally, Mom responded to their pleading to wake up. She looked around quite groggily. Then, she tried to talk to Margie but her speech was measured. She was having difficulty speaking and breathing. The nurse gave me an all knowing look. Without words I responded that I knew what was happening. The coma was hours away, and this Hospice nurse was conceding victory to me as well as my mother. She knew I had known the secret and known it correctly. Looking at her, without words, I said, “I knew it would be tomorrow. After all, the message was from God.” Finally, Mom asked timidly, “Is Cindy in the room?” Advancing to her side, I noticed that she had shortness of breath. She kept trying to speak. Stopping her futile attempts at speech, I assured her, “I know; I know.” She managed to say, “Cindy, I...am...sorry.” After a lengthy pause, I blurted out, “You never asked for cancer! Don’t be sorry!” She attempted to get her feelings to me, “I...am...sorry. I...” The pauses between words were unbearably long. Margie and I feared she would not complete her speech. Then, Mom continued, “...can’t remember.” “Remember what?” I pleaded. Then it popped in my head, “The words to the prayers?” I aided. She nodded in compliances. I began the “Our Father” and then the “Hail Mary. “ When I got to one part of the prayer of the “Hail Mary,” I said it strongest, “Holy, Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, NOW, and at the HOUR OF OUR DEATH.” The prayer was for now because it was approaching the hour of her death. Then, we told her good night. She nodded, and we left. The tears were on the brink of falling from my tear ducts. I had a massive headache as I fought to stay strong. This time I was at the door with her but her stretcher was not heading for an operation. Her guide was pushing her through the gates of Heaven. Thus, she couldn’t return. Meanwhile, no one was paging Dr. P. for surgery. This was the last awake mother I would see in my lifetime. On the way to Margie’s apartment, it was decided that I’d check on our mother on the way to work. Unless it was over, I’d stay until nine. If she was still not in a coma by nine thirty then I’d go on to work. If she was in a coma, I’d call Margie at work. In fact, either way, I’d call Margie. “What will you say?” She questioned. “How will you tell me over the telephone?” I had never had to spread news of a death in the family. I had never had to watch a loved one die. I wasn’t really sure how you handle such occasions. So, I quipped,” I’ll simply say Mom’s on the roof and I can’t get her down.” Instead of being morbid, we were hysterical. I raised my head towards the Heavens. It was a clear, still night. I was sure that tomorrow I would place that call to Margie, but I was not afraid. Margie left the car. I watched until she arrived safely to her apartment. Looking up to Heaven, I saw a crystal clear scene full of pristine stars shimmering as my heart released my mother to her destiny. The reason we laughed so profusely was that Dad had a joke he told often. There was this family with two boys. The brothers were many years apart in age. The eldest was getting married and moving away. To comfort the younger brother, Timmie gave the baby brother his cat. The cat was quite old and died suddenly. The younger brother called his married brother who lived miles away. When the brother answered the telephone the younger brother blurted out, “Timmie, your cat is dead. I am sorry.” The eldest brother reeled back in shock and told the younger brother never to do that again. “Prepare me for the shock. Start by saying that the cat is on the roof and I can’t get it down. Then add, ‘the fire department can’t reach to the cat to help it down.’” He added, “Then, tell me the cat jumped and the vet is looking after the cat. Later, tell me the vet had no luck and the cat died.” The younger brother seemed to understand the way to give the brother bad news in the future. A few months later, the younger brother had news of another death in the family. He called Timmie and said, “Timmie, Mom is on the roof and I can’t get her down but don’t worry because the fire department and the vet are all here. And, I think she is going to be okay.” Later that night, I called my brother telling him that Mom knew he was going to be late. Mike couldn’t cope with the thought of death. I wondered how he’d cope with the ashes that he wanted to sprinkle after her cremation. Wednesday Morning (will be added on that day of the week!)
Posted on: Tue, 29 Oct 2013 13:38:41 +0000
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