I want to share the last night with my Mother while here.
The day before she left us she wanted to get out of bed and get dressed. She wanted to stand, so my son helped her up and she stayed in his arms for like 10 minutes. Meanwhile we kept asking her if she wanted to sit in a different chair; she said "no". We asked if she needed to go to the bathroom, she again said "no". We asked if she wanted to lay down and I'll never forget that stern look she gave us, a look like "what are you crazy, that's all I do." After however many minutes she was in my son's arms, she then said she wanted to sit. So she sat and I sat next to her, my son on the other side. She wanted to change, when I asked to what she said it didn't matter. She kept saying that we had to go, we have to go. In hindsight, now I know what she meant. I showed her a different pajama top and she said that was fine. So she was now changed. She said she was tired, so we laid her down. She wasn't eating or drinking, she had thrush (horrible sores in and around her mouth and under her tongue). We had a 24-hr nurse in the home then. In the middle of the night, she was in pain and breathing really bad. It seemed that she was choking and making rattling sounds. In the book that Hospice gave me, it said that these are called "rattling of death" (yes, terrible name) and that it normally bothers the caregivers more so than the patient. I showed this to the nurse and my brother, they didn't want to believe it. I guess I was just providing a fact, I'm not sure if I believed it either. I don't quite remember. Anyway, we called Hospice and asked what can be done about it, so they prescribed something and my brother went and picked it up. It was a patch. We placed it on the outside of her neck as instructed, the rattling stopped. Once we felt she was breathing okay, we went back to bed. The nurse had to leave at 8am, but the other one was running late so when I got up the night nurse was still there. She told me she was breathing okay and that she had giving her a sponge bath and changed her top. She seemed peaceful, so I went back to bed for just a bit and when the new nurse came around 10 or so I was up again. She looked at my Mom's breathing and she said "I don't like this, I don't like this at all". I had heard this before as many nurses said that because they didn't really knew Mom's background with COPD so her breathing was always irregular. Although, now that I think about it, her breathing was really shallow and very slow. I had given her a kiss and a "good morning" as I always did. But when I sat next to her I guess I just knew that something was not right. The nurse was right, her breathing was not right at all. She took slow breaths and I can see her neck pulsating ever so slowly. I left the room and woke up my son, I told him "Richard, I think it's time and you should go say your goodbye." He was up really quick and went into the room. I'm not sure if I stayed behind for some reason or I was just sitting thinking, I don't know but he went into her room and came back just as fast and told me with his look that she was gone. I don't know why I didn't stay there, I don't know why I didn't held her hand I don't understand why I left the room. I asked this of myself over and over again and I think she should have felt the warmth of my hand when she left so she knew she wasn't alone. I feel guilty about this. I questioned myself about what I did all the time. I don't know if God does have a plan and he felt it would have been too much for me to see her take her last breath. I don't know.
Please keep the signs of your loved one in mind, if she says and feels anxious because they feel they have someplace to go. It is a sign! And don't forget to always tell them you love them and thank them for what they've done for you. Ask, if you can if there's anyone in particular they want to see. Try and make it happen, even if it's a phone call. My mother wanted to see her sister one last time, we had a call via Skype. So they actually did see each other. God bless you all caregivers and be strong and patient.
My first husband of 42 years was hospitalized for five weeks ending in his death in 1990. I was able to stay with him in his room thanks to the great staff who provided me with a cot bed so I could be close to him.
He was very, very sick but he did not complain at all. Each time that he had an enzyme test and the results were better, I would convince myself that he was getting better.
After the five week stay his doctor told me that I could take him home and that he might survive several weeks or die abruptly.
I contacted all my children to come and see him which they did. Then I arranged for home health to visit our home for him and got a hospital bed so he could rest downstairs in our home.
He had not eaten anything solid for the whole five weeks and had been given an IV containing nourishment. That morning they brought his full tray of food as always, though before that day he did not eat anything. This day, it was blueberry pancakes, a favorite of his when he was well. He ate them and said how good they were and I said that I would make some when we got home.
Just then a young woman came to the room and asked me to go with her for some information. My husband said, "Don't be long Ma." I replied that I would be right back and take him home. I can't for the life of me remember what it was the lady asked me. It was in a room close by and just as I sat down, my eldest daughter who was on duty in the O.R., one floor below, had come up and looked in on her father and saw that he was gone.
I rushed back to the room and kept loudly calling his name, thinking I could revive him.
That was 23 years ago and to this day, I have remorse over the fact that I was not there to hold his hand after being at his side constantly for the five previous weeks.
We mortals cannot sometimes figure out why such things play out in such a fashion, though I have to content myself with realizing that I had done all I could for him though not having that last moment to comfort him
Three years after his death, I met a lovely man who had lost his wife around the same time that I was widowed and our friendship led to love and marriage and we are now quite old but also grateful for each other's love and companionship, yet on some days I go back to that last moment at the hospital and feel the regret for missing that last breath and last words of comfort.
It sounds as if I am writing about a marriage of nothing but sunshine and roses over the forty two years we spent together. Believe me, there were a lot of bumps along the way and more than one mountain to climb, but our last twenty years pretty much made up for the first twenty two rocky years.
When I was a young mother of eight children, an elderly neighbor lady said to me, "No matter what kind of a marriage one has had, you miss them when they are gone," she speaking from experience after losing her husband of many, many years.
As present or former care givers, we must give up any regrets for the way we cared for a dear one, if we did so with a loving heart.
I hope this message will give someone out there courage and peace of mind.
God bless one and all.
As part of her training in one of the country's first residential hospices, Mama met Elisabeth Kubler Ross. So I trust this information I am sharing, which she shared with me a few years ago.
My mama was with many who made their transition and worked with families like those of us writing here. She told me something that may help you --and anyone who might feel regret or guilt not being present at the time of the passing.
Mama said they were trained to sometimes suggest that the family members leave the dying person alone, sometimes just for a few minutes, "go get a coffee, take a short break."
... to allow our dear one to leave their tired, well-used body. Some of our loved ones seem to not want to leave us alone either-- so they cling to life because we are there. And when we leave them some space, at the right time, they leave their bodies.
So don't feel guilty. Consider that your mother needed to be alone to make this transition. Perhaps your giving her that space let her release. Consider, tell yourself perhaps, that this temporary absence from her body was part of the process she needed.
This morning my Mama cried that she felt "guilty for leaving us." She is 80, and I am her 60 year-old child. I assured her that she has done a wonderful job with her family and friends and that she had no reason to feel any regrets at not finishing this work.
Our loved ones want us to feel LOVE when we think of them...not regrets, not guilt. Let's do that for them...and for our own sweet hearts.
When my sweet mil was dying, the nursing home would call us. Rosie would bounce back for another week or two. This happened again and again. Finally, I asked the nurse, when she called, if the above was true and she confirmed it. I discussed this with my husband and we opted to let her go without us there. The nurse called a half hour later to tell us that she had passed on gently. So you see, you actually did exactly what your mom wanted. God bless you. Hugs and love, Corinne
She had been having what she called a 'green apple belly' all that weekend. My 15 year old daughter and I visited her to get one of her vintage necklaces for Prom. She told my daughter ' you don't have to give it back'. (I see this as a premonition in hindsight). My mother has always been jealous of my closeness to my grandmother, and on the Sunday night she went to the hospital for the final time, my grandmother hid her very expensive diamond ring in a place in the house that would takes months to locate, called my dad and asked him to call an ambulance, but for them not to turn the siren on because she didn't want the neighbors to know anything. My mother called both my sisters, who are nurses (I am not a nurse, which my mother later used as the excuse as to why she didn't call me too) and they met my grandmother at the hospital. In the middle of the night they determined the blockage was like a 'heart attack to the bowel' and that tissue had died and surgery was not possible. They put her on morphine and in the morning I was called. It was a surreal thing; my mother said to come to the hospital and that she was dying. I had just talked to her a few days ago and she had told me she would be there for me always.
When I got to the hospital they took me into intensive care, where she was on a breathing tube and heavily sedated. I got very close to her face and told her that I loved her. Her words were "pots and pans. Take anything that you want". She knew. My mother stepped in (this was her mother in law, not her own mother) and told her to 'hang in there'. I felt very irritated that they knew she was dying and would say that to her. I also had figured out by then that I was the only sister not contacted to come the night before.
All day she was comatose. I sat by her bed constantly. My dad, her only child, 'couldn't handle being there' (nor could, I guess my mother) so they were gone most of the day. My two sisters and I stayed with her. At about 1:15 am I had to go home because I had young kids at home and my brother in law was waiting there for me while I was with her. As I left I told her "Go bed with God now. I will be fine. I love you". I kissed her and went home. We had no cell phones then. It took me 15 minutes to get home. As I walked in the door my sister was calling and told me that right after I left her breathing was definitely worse and she passed. I KNOW she 'was there for me' as long as she could be. She left when I left the room.
I have always wished I could have been with her when she left this life. But I know now that she stayed there for ME.
Rest assured that mothers are mothers until the end. She was looking out for you, as was God. She is in His arms now. Have peace. You shared a heartwarming story.
My dad taught me how to live life. I was by his side and telling him to let go, that'd we would all be ok. He peacefully left and took my heart along with him. I miss him so much, even after all these years. His last lesson for me was to teach me not to be afraid of dying. And he left knowing his child loved him beyond measure.
Peace be with you. May you be comforted by your mom's memories. She'll always and forever be with you in your heart.
While I struggled through the years of caring for my Mom, and many of the questions were very helpful to me, as well as the opportunity to post questions, this one is very important to all of us... so they say.
I just want to thank everyone for sharing your stories, because we caregivers go on after the most important role in our lives passes on.
I was also out of the room at the time my dear Mom passed away, but I had been with her for days before. When I look back at that time and the years before that, there are many, many good memories. My bereavement counselor tells me to write letters to my Mom when ever I am confused as to what to do next, or to just write to her like a journal every night before going to sleep. That has been very helpful to me, because when I can't think... I write to Mom and somehow her words of guidance come back to me and she tells me to get moving.
So, that's what I'm going to do right now. I can just hear her tell me to get moving and live life fully, with a sense of adventure and no fear. During her last years I asked her for her greatest advice and she told me, never to worry. She said after she worried, she found that everything turns out OK and not to waste any time worrying. So, I'm off to live a good life and I wish the same for all of you dear folks who come to this site. I hope you try not to worry and enjoy the rest of your good lives. I know it's a struggle and many questions come to mind, but for me... I'm going to take the first step and get moving to try to live in today and in the future.
Sending you much love and gratitude for being here for me, just exactly when I need to hear from you.
In my heart, I know she wouldn't want you to feel guilty. If you were in her place and your child had cared for you as you had her, would you want your child to feel guilty? Love yourself, you are worthy.