Welcome to my new blog series of grief and healing. It is my hope that my story, or at least parts of it, resonates with you and helps in your own journey. As I mentioned last week, it occurred to me as I approached sixty, that my fifties were spent, for the most part, grieving, all kinds of losses, seemingly all at once.
Losing Mom
June 17th, 2014, the day I turned 50. I spent it with my mother in her doctor’s office. She had suffered a slight stroke five years previously. The stroke left her with vascular dementia and renal damage that left her ending up on dialysis. It was at this appointment, however, that we figured out the reason for the stroke. High blood pressure. It was taken 4 times, twice by the doctor himself. It was 223/164. She felt fine. We couldn’t believe it. She never had one symptom of high blood pressure. With that said, she was placed on bp meds and we went home. She had some gifts for me that she had ordered but upon giving them to me, she said, “Happy birthday. These are probably the last gifts I’ll ever get you. I don’t think I’ll be around much longer.” She was right. A little over a month later, on July 23rd, she was gone. And I still have those gifts.
I remember the day clearly. It was a Wednesday. As she ate breakfast, I packed her bag for dialysis, made myself a cup of coffee and sat across from my mother at the kitchen table. I remember just staring at her. She looked at me and asked what I was looking at and I replied, “the most beautiful mother in the world”. She smiled and I finished my coffee. I dropped her off at dialysis, hugged her, told her I loved her and went on to do errands.
Later when I picked her up, we didn’t get far when she said she didn’t feel good and felt like she was going to throw up. I gave her a plastic bag and turned the car around to go to the ER. I was talking with the doctor, she called my name and the next thing I knew, I was being rushed out as people were rushing in. She was a DNR. I stood in the hall not knowing what to expect, but then the doctor came out and told me he was sorry. The nurse came out and told me the brain is the last to go and I can talk to her and she would hear me. I told her I loved her. I thanked her for being my mom. I told her I’d be okay. I told her it was okay to go with whoever came to get her. And with that, she was gone. July 23rd, 2014 5:57 P. M.
Next Week: Mom’s support
Until Next time…
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