Two weeks ago today Mom was admitted to the Hospice House, full of life and laughing with the nurses. Today she lays in the bed unresponsive with very labored breathing. She has been this way since yesterday morning, when I awoke to see her drooling and slumped on her side. The last words I heard her say were “help me.” She called out in her sleep in the middle of the night two nights ago, and then drifted back to sleep. I believe she was reaching out to her loved ones, not me, asking them to help her cross to the other side.
Her respirations have dropped to 7 and now hovering around 4 per minute. Her pupils are fixated.
The death rattle began yesterday afternoon, around 2:00 or so. This is usually an indication of hours or possibly a day remaining. She also started Cheyne-Stokes breathing in the middle of the night, where she breathes very fast and then pauses for as long as a minute between breaths. The night nurse thought surely she would pass on their shift, as many others have also thought for the past several days. But 7:00 came up with the sun, along with the day nurses who will now watch over her.
They are doing an excellent job of keeping her comfortable here at hospice, and she appears to be pain free. The night nurse even gave her some kisses on the forehead. They were on when she was admitted here, so they have seen her from beginning until the end. I’m not sure if she is aware of her surroundings although the nurses tell me she is not. Many have said their hearing is the last thing to go, so I continue to sing to her and tell her “I love you Mommy.” And I hold her hand.
I have never watched someone die before, so even though several friends told me about what to expect in the last days (and I read about it in the booklet) there is nothing that quite prepares you for it. I think I expected her to just go to sleep and not wake up. Based on the last week, I didn’t think she would be here through the weekend. In case you’re wondering I’m doing ok – really. Just taking it one moment at a time and pushing through.
Twice in the night the nurse pumped fluid from her throat to give her more room to breathe. The rattle was so loud at one point I plugged my ears. The nurse assured me it is harder on family members to hear than it is on the patient, who doesn’t experience any pain. She was running a fever so they gave her something for that. This morning they turned her to her side to give the fluids a chance to drain. At this moment she is sleeping peacefully and breathing quietly.
While this is hard to watch, , of one thing I am certain – all this is just “body stuff.” It is perishable. It is but a fleeting moment compared to eternity. This is a hope that all believers have in common. It is a hope and a promise. Very soon my Mom will be going to meet Jesus and I will see her again one day. She is almost Home!
==========================
À la prochaine (Until next time) …