Journey's End with a Mother

My mother passed away 10th August and looking at the date of my last post, she fought on for an amazing nine days. In the Urology Ward, I found it difficult to leave her each night knowing that she might wake and not know where she was. I asked them if I could sleep in a chair by her bed but they said it was against the rules. When I explained why they said they would make sure she has something to make her sleep through. As she had a catheter fitted, there was no need for her to wake up to use the toilet,

The next day the perky little Urology specialist assigned her a Physio and thought that if she could walk about again that would help her regain kidney function. So they all decided to walk her to the shower. It was most fearful thing to watch and thankfully my sister in law Julie was there that day and her nursing experience was invaluable. However I still felt that it was beyond her and put her through unnecessary suffering.


The following day Matt my son, and his wife Ann and little Audrey came down from Cambooya and they told Mum that they were pregnant again. It just made her day. However it was also the day that they decided that decided to pump in lots of fluid . The problem was to find a decent vein. They tried about eight times and finally a new younger resident came along and popped it in straight away. I must say, Ann, Audrey and I cleared the room during this process,as it was too hard to watch her pain. We cowards departed in tears leaving Matt holding her hand.


By Wednesday she was on increased pain relief and the perky one asked her if she would consent to have dialysis which Mum refused. When he spoke to me about a possible changing of her mind, I rustled Mum's Advance Health Directive at him so he quietened down. I realise now this lovely man is totally devoted to saving lives. That afternoon and evening I devoted totally to finding a place for her to die. It was tough to do and difficult to find a place to take her. I booked two appointments for the following day to inspect facilities because I wanted her last hours to be with us in a beautiful place.

On Thursday morning early I was introduced to the head honcho of the Palliative Care Unit at the hospital which was situated across the road for the hospital on a floor of a lovely private hospital leased by Queensland Health. Yes they would look after her . I didn't need to find her another place. I felt an enormous pressure was lifted off my shoulders. It was lovely. During that day while we waited or her to be moved I explained that she was going into Palliative Care and that it was ok for her to leave us. We would all be alright mainly because she had been such a wonderful mother grandmother and great grandmother. I told her how lucky I was to be her daughter and in turn she told me that she blessed the day I had been born. I informed her I was here for the long haul and didn't intend to leave her. I was determined she wouldn't die alone. Then we laughed about how she would wait up for me for long enough when I went out and how I would always fib about the time I got in and how she always knew exactly what time it was. She spoke to Charlie by phone and told him how much joy he had brought into our lives especially after our Dad died quite young. She spoke to Adam and told him how much she loved him too.


The first room In Palliative Care was a divided one which we shared with another lovely lady (let's call her Ruth) who had only a few months to go with terminal cancer. She was from the country and we would chat and include her in lots of our jokes and laughter. She really appreciated us turning on her television and fetching nurses etc. That first night I slept in a trick recliner chair which would catapult you from sitting to lying to standing positions and back again in the most startling way. We spent most of the first night stifling laughter when Mum's morphine wore off, apologising to Ruth after she kept checking if I was still ok or was I on the floor.


The following night we had two mattresses and I was joined by Julie on a chair sitting up and my brother, Charlie on the other mattress. Nobody wanted to leave. So they upgraded us into the best room in the place . It was beautiful with five picture windows overlooking the mountains and a Private school. It had lots of space for everyone to come and visit and stay. Then they began to cater for us and spare meals and sandwiches were found for any one who turned up unexpectedly. Mum was fitted with a morphine pump which fed her pain relief at regular intervals and when she made a moan we just had to say the word and they were in " like Flynn" to give her a top up shot. The nurses and doctors were absolutely wonderful in their care of Mum and of us. Social workers and the chaplain came and even the catering staff stopped and talked and listened and found boxes of tissues to dry our tears.


We played all of her favourite music and talked to her constantly and I believe she did hear us and was particularly more alert when the young'uns came like Jalyce the youngest and only granddaughter was around as well as Michaela, my oldest my grand- daughter and Mum's great grand-daughter.and Nic my youngest son and his wife Ali. We talked as if she was really there and laughed lots about all the good times and the experiences we had had together with her. It was a great time and I am so grateful for it.

Finally on the Tuesday, we were awakened a 4 am by the difference in Mum's breathing. We alerted the nurses and they told us that it wouldn't be very long now. I remembered people talking about the "death rattle" and knew that this was what it was although the nurses were loath to call it that. The fluid in the catheter was almost nil and at that stage no-one wanted to leave her even to go for a coffee. We were in the process of informing a lovely nurse from Liverpool about the true bliss of a good coffee and the merits of it being perked, dripped or as an espresso when Mum heaved a big bored sigh as if to say "Enough of the coffee talk , I'm outa here. " Then she was gone.

The nurses laid her out beautifully and we said a final good-bye. That was tough. I held her hand until it was cold thinking all the while what a fortunate woman I am to have had such a one give birth to me. I only hope some of her lives on in me.

Journeying with my mother

On Thursday in A & E the doc there said she would be lucky to survive two days. Today is Sunday and she has foiled his dire prediction and cheated death for a few days yet. It's like being in a theme park with the highs and lows of those knuckle- gripping rides but none of the exhilaration. Kidney function is low but has not dropped anymore and she still has the UTI (Urinary Tract Infection for the uninitiated) . See how easily we adapt to hospital jargon in order to become one with an alien environment.



The attending urologist is a, dapper little man from the subcontinent who would melt the hardest heart with his big soulful brown eyes and his gentle soothing tones. He exudes intelligence and capability. He speaks to my mother and gives her clear options, offers the dialysis which she refuses. He prescribes her anti-nausea pills and a search for an anti-biotics that will kill the UTI but not affect kidney function. He turns those great empathetic eyes to me and as our eyes meet across the bed , I feel strangely comforted. He will not not her suffer.



We are in the renal ward now and for the nurses there is absolutely nothing they would not do for Mum to make her comfortable and from constantly adjusting her on pillows as she she slips sideways to spraying her with her favourite perfume .



Do not think that our bedside chats with visitors and nurses are doom and gloom. I read to Mum and Ian Rankin Crime story that she loves and she begins to sleep, I stop and she wakes up determined not to sleep while I am there. We both laugh about this. Julie tidies up and spills a whole jug of water on the floor. There is lots of laughter as Nic and Ali talk about the impending birth of the "Kipper" due in two weeks and how much swearing is allowable in the labour ward weeks. Trips down memory land invariably result in much giggling. I happened to ask my Mum about whether she learnt Scottish dancing. With that same acerbic stare, she informed that she has told me many a times about the Fling and the Sword dance etc. " And you say I'm ga-ga" she says.



I leave her with a hug and kiss and in my heart a desire that she not wake up in the night and not know where she is- a common symtom of the UTI in the elderly. I am holding on prety well and I think it is easier for me as I am with her constantly and can do small things to make her feel better and bring a smile to her lips.

Journeying with my mother

This trip is so much about our shared yesterdays. When my brother and his family came down to see Mum, we began to talk about where we used to live. At College I went on a field trip to Beerwah Reforestation settlement where all of us fresh young teachers were presented with a Slash Pine to plant somewhere thoughtfully. The ranger said I assured my mother that it would grow about 10 to 15 feet. Mum being an avid gardener just had to have it in the back yard. Well anyone who knows about pine trees knows that they hardly constrain themselves to a mere 10 t0 15 ft. Obviously the species had never experienced anything like the gentle care my Mother lavished on her plants. Suffice it to say that the tree was at least 40 feet tall and looking lush and gorgeous growing each year by the time she left the place 10 years later. I went back last week and now it's gone. "15 feet did you say?" asked my Mum at every opportunity. Another bone of contention between Mum and I was my assertion that the distance to our local bus stop was just a hope skip and a jump and that the road to it was just a "Slight incline". "Slight incline! My foot" said Mum 'It's a hill". Last week when I went back that slight incline was transformed before my very much older eyes to a very long and steep hill. Such is the exuberance of all conquering youth! We laughed and laughed.

Living to Travel

I just know that the label of this one will garner some attention. My mother is one of those very modern women. At 88 , I'm sure she is the first women's libber holding very strong beliefs about the equality of the sexes and filled with the determination that I would have "an education" and a profession". To this end I was to be informed about everything a girl should know. The Catholic school I attended also believed that parents are the prime educators of their children. Bear in mind that this is the late 50s and this self same institution also espoused the Virgin Birth. Thus it was that after the mothers and daughters night, we attended she came home with a printed pamphlet which contained EVERYTHING A GIRL SHOULD KNOW. I burned to read those pages and could scarcely contain my excitement when she produced this document on a cold winter's night as we sat uncomfortably by our one bar heater. To our surprise, we were joined by my father who sat as close to her as he dared but out of arm shot, while parrying deathly glares from my mother and hiding his frequent titters with bouts of coughing and spluttering. All was revealed and my first impression was "EEE_UUW" followed swiftly by the agonisingly embarrassing thought that these two people in the room with me had indeed indulged in aforesaid behaviour. Horrors upon horror. I kept sneaking looks that were a mixture of wonder and disgust for at least five days. My mother just smiled at this and looked wise.

Journeying with my Mother

My Mum looked no better today but is eating cherries and strawberries and that great Greek yogurt that tastes so good it must be very bad for you. Cherries of course are out of season and cost $14.00 a kilo but it matters not. She is the shrinking woman having lost 5 kilos in just over a month. How I long to see her at my place tucking in to bacon and eggs with relish! I spoke to the carer for a long time and they are all of the same mind that she is not the woman she was yet she takes herself to the toilet even though she has been told not to. What can you say? I can understand how we cling to that last bastion - the dignity left to us. She was lucid today and remembered all her visitors on Saturday- a good sign. We were laughing again about Nellie, one of the residents who was desperate to spend time with Audrey, saw her crawling around and invited herself in wanting to nurse her. Old people and babies - so simpatico.

Roger had a traffic incident on Friday tackling a council bus as he pulled out of the bottle shop. He feels very follish about this but I guess he had an excuse. The sun was in his eyes and his mind on my Mum's health. I was grateful it wasn't me. He hadn't had a drink thank goodness. So our cute Colt which is really too young to leave it's mother has gone on a week's holiday. Major inconvenience! Oh how we so easily become accustomed to having our own vehicle to convey us from one place to another. I shall have to work my visitations to Mum around three people's plans in our house. C'est the vie!

Journeying with my mother

This is a different kind of travel, we are undertaking my mother and I. We are living through our last days together. She is failing and even though both of us know that that final day will come yet the thought of it still weighs me down with its cold stone pebbles of dread that settle in the gut and ache terribly. Like my mother, I am confused at times and I have become more forgetful of the simple routines. I am suffused with such different feelings with the grief that the loss of her would entail alongside the pain of seeing her in pain and extreme discomfort and living a poor excuse for a life. Then I want her not to linger. I suffer guilt because the end of her suffering is also the end of my suffering and uncertainty too

When the RN said that she was in the palliative care stage of her life and he wanted to keep her at the home as long as they could, I prayed for her to die peacefully before her fragile kidneys gave out of her strong heart ceased its remarkably regular beating. My niece the favoured grand-daughter and my sister in law could not contain their grief. I had no words of comfort for them. I have none for myself.

She won't eat and I troll the markets and shops looking for unusual fruit and savoury tidbits to tempt her. She takes one bite or two and can't eat anymore. She ate three cherries today and a fresh date and enjoyed them . The doctor say she is to drink what she likes and not to be concerned about the sugar content of the copious glasses of apple juice and lemonade she is sipping. He is happy she is hydrated. Diabetes is the least of her problems.


I sit and read to her and that way she can drop off without offense as she always wants to be awake when I'm there. Sometimes we reminisce about funny moments and good times. She loves to hear about Audrey's exploits as Audrey is the youngest great-grand-daughter and small as she is- quite a piece of work. My children are coping well for the moment- they have their own lives and this is good. I long for my eldest son to contact me as he is estranged and out of the loop at the moment. I very much want him to see his grand-mother while she is able to talk and laugh.

Living to travel Episode 8 Fort Lauderdale

This is new site for blogging for me as the last one although user friendly was inundated with ads so that it made difficulties for my readers. My blogs have been about my travels and in fact the very first long journey that I took of my own accord. There have been seven posts so far and I will reproduce them here as it will make better sense of my ramblings both oral and physical.

Forget what I just said as I can't seem to copy and paste from my word program into it. So new readers I heartily apologise . Until I find a way to copy and paste old blogs you will have to just take it as read that I have travelled across the Pacific by the "Australis"through the Panama to Port Everglades.

When we disembarked it was all about trying to get to Miami which I think was some distance away (90 miles or so)and after several futile attempts to find transport and by that I mean cheap transport we abandoned ourselves to the delights of Fort Lauderdale and its lovely beaches. The town was clean with palm-fringed streets and we quite easily lowered the age average of people in town by 20 years. By far the most overwhelming first experience for me was the cheapness of the clothes in the shops ( I had no money) and the most excellent service offered by the food outlets. Unused to the courtesies of tipping we found ourselves at a loss but then came to the realisation of why the service was so effusive. We later found out that the wait -staff were paid approximately 50 cent

We spent the afternoon on the" Jungle Queen" cruising around the upper class part of the everglades for an hour or so seeing how people lived. We were astounded that people here could afford such effects as a waterfall inside their house, a roof that opened up so that a fairly powerful telescope could have unlimited access to the night sky and that an indoor /outdoor swimming poll was de rigeur for these Floridians - the Fort Lauderdale set. !!

More Fort Lauderdale tomorrow.