March 25, 2016

When I went into Mom's room on Wednesday afternoon, I greeted her, "Hi, Mom!"  Faintly I heard her say, "Elizabeth."  That was the last thing my mother said to me.  To see her, though, was heart-breaking.  She was nothing more than skin covering bone.

Thursday morning, early, a call had come to Mark and Debbie's that Mom had fallen out of bed.  Because no one knew whether or not she had hit her head, she was being taken to the ER.  A hospice nurse came over to Elmcroft to ride in the ambulance with Mom.  Debbie and Becky caught up with them at the hospital.  They were back by mid-morning, as there were no signs of injury. 

We talked not just to the Elmcroft nurse but also to the hospice nurse who came by about moving the bed so that the side Mom tended to move towards was by the wall, in case she got moving again.  For the night, the suggestion was to lower her bed as close to the floor as possible and lay some pillows on the floor for just in case.  By morning hospice had sent over pads we could place on the floor by the bed -- although, she had calmed down.

Friday evening the nurse who initially evaluated Mom for hospice care late this past fall stopped by.  This was the first time Terri had seen Mom since then.  She was shocked at what she saw.  Becky and I wanted to talk with her about Mom's care -- with all that had happened since Thursday morning -- to make sure both Elmcroft as well as Kindred at Home were knowing what was going on.  So, we three stepped out into the hallway, as there was more space out there for us to talk.  Terri filled Becky and me in on what hospice would do as Mom's time drew to an end.  She asked us if we thought Dad knew Mom's condition.  We said that he did.  There were things he would say to us or ask -- like, "She's not going to get any better" or "She is just getting thinner and thinner" -- which made us sure he knew.  (With his dementia, it does create a bit of a challenge.)  So, she asked us about her talking with Dad about the next phase.  We thought it would be good, as we were there to be in on the conversation and be able to share with Mark and Debbie.  (It was Good Friday, and there was an evening service at church.)

Terri told us this:

• Once it seemed that Mom was nearing the end of life, hospice people would be there 24/7.
• If any of us were not with Mom the moment she passed on, we were not to feel guilty about that.  (As it was, Mark, Debbie, and Jon were there.)
• Grieving -- not just Dad, but us children
• Grief counseling available for 13 months for any of us who might need it (someone does stop by to talk to Dad)

She asked about funeral arrangements.  We said that Mom was to be buried at the military cemetery southwest of Macedonia.  She said that we might want to check on that, as sometimes it takes a little longer to work things out with their schedule for burials.  (That we passed on to Mark and Debbie.)

Anyhow, the visit went well.  Dad did fine, as did Becky and me.  Terri thought that we had a good handle on things.

So, although we planned to let that night be our final goodbyes, we decided to return Saturday morning to see how Dad was, with what the discussion had been on this evening -- and to be sure Mom was set.