At 3:19pm on January 29, 2011 my mother died.
She died with her family around her as we played a game of Scrabble.
We are heartbroken.
But she is free.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Update 17
Apparently a bat got in around 1am last night. And guess who slept through the excitement? This girl. Apparently I was super tired because normally something like four people chasing down a bat would wake me up.
What did wake me up was Mom's groans of pain. Since she can't swallow we have to get up once every couple of hours to give her liquid morphine and in between she was coughing up a lung and groaning in pain and at one point she actually woke, was groaning, struggled to sit up and was calling "Help!" to whoever would listen. Those of us sleeping downstairs are a well-oiled machine. The moment Mom makes a noise or sits up or whatever immediately Dad, Kim and Lauri are up and there and Dad lifts Mom while Kim pulls out the potty chair and Lauri assists from behind as they help Mom sit and then she rubs her back while she sits there and it's pretty incredible to watch. The rest of us are either asleep or watching or, in my case, ducking so I'm not whacked in the head with the leg of a potty chair in Kim's haste to get it to the bedside.
Today was fairly calm. Or, at least, it was for when I was down here. Mom's pain has worsened and she's not able to talk much anymore due to not being able to swallow water. I spent most of the day up in the living room with a book in an attempt to escape the madness but every now and then I'd hear a cry from down here. She spent a good part of the morning in the wing chair propped up by pillows and tied loosely to the chair with a scarf so no one had to hold her up. She's gotten very weak, her legs barely hold her anymore. If she weren't so determined to get up to use the restroom we would probably be using a bedpan. But whenever she needs to go she tries to sit up and push herself out of the bed before Dad, Kim or Lauri stops her so i'm guessing a bedpan isn't really an option. Though we do have one.
For the third time this week I escaped the house. My introverted self can only stand this many people and little privacy for so long before I go crazy so I drove to Zanesville to order a new debit card to replace my poor worn out one. This was an amusing trip since the banker who helped me interrupted himself to admire my engagement ring, explaining he used to work in jewelry and that my ring was very pretty. Afterward I took myself over to Starbucks for a Caramel Apple Spice, the only hot drink I can have. My Lil, Laura, works there and I was hoping she was there today. She was! And she made my drink and told me it was on her. :-D Then, when I came home after a short trip to Walmart (where I only bought the two things I was sent for and nothing else! It's a miracle!) I found that Anne's future mother in-law was buying us Chinese take-out for dinner. What a marvelous way to end this day.
To finish, here is a photo of the Mountain of Comfort that suddenly grew in the foyer last week. Later on I will take a picture of our nightly slumber party so you can join in on the madness.
****me at June's wedding! In love with this pic!****
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Update 16
So, I was going to watch a movie but realized I should probably do my blog post before I get sucked in and then crash from exhaustion.
Last night was rough. I couldn't sleep to begin with, but then when I did sleep Mom would cough loudly and wake me every hour or so. It had a phlegm-y sound to it, and at one point actually choked her a little and we had to help her sit up. That cough has continued all through today and, according to the nurse, it's one of the three signs of "The End". She said it's not phlegm but some secretion in the lungs that is being coughed up. Not a pleasant thought at all, especially since she has also gotten too weak to stand, even with help, or even to really sit up. She can no longer swallow anything, and we have to use a sponge on a stick soaked in morphine to give her pain medication. Dad created a paste from the Xanax and rubs it on the inside of her cheek so it absorbs. But because she can't take meds like she was able to before she groans a lot, is really restless, and the stress lines between her brows seem permanently etched into her skin.
She has, however, been able to speak a little today. When we were all up eating dinner Aunt Polly actually came up to the table to tell Dad that Mom just put her hands to her mouth and "yelled" his name. Sometimes she'll ask to get up not so she can go to the bathroom but so she can just hug Dad. At one point she was coughing or sitting up or something like that and she asked, weakly, "aren't you going to gather around me?" So she knows we're here, and she loves having us around her so she can see us. Yesterday Erin leaned over her while she sat in the wing chair and said "Hi Mom, it's Erin!" and Mom reached up and hugged her. I admit to being jealous. I don't remember the last hug I had from my mommy.
Otherwise we've been playing music for her in the DVD player so that it fills the room with the sounds of worship. All of Mom's favorite music, the CD of the five of us singing in 2002, an album I burned for Mom weeks ago that she never listened to... It's nice to hear more than just the sound of people talking, typing, or texting.
Our cousin Hannah finally made it here today in time for dinner and we have a very short time with her before she flies back to Utah tomorrow afternoon. However, it's nice to have her here at all, and good that she gets to see Mom one time before it's over.
As it is, we thank all of you, our readers, for your comments, your prayers, your help, and especially to my readers that don't really know me or my mom... I'm sorry I've been such a downer, but I promise I'll be back soon with posts that aren't quite so depressing. It isn't my goal to make all of you cry all the time, but really this is the only way to keep everyone informed and it means we don't have to tell the same story over and over and over and over and over and over.
On a completely unrelated note, I have a burned CD in the car of music I enjoy singing along with and the other day when my Dad borrowed my car that CD was playing. Normally he just turns off my music, but apparently he actually liked what he was hearing and he asked me to burn him a copy! !!!! So I did! I did warn him, however, to listen through the CD and pick which songs he actually wants since I'm positive he has no interest in Darren Criss singing Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" from Glee.
In any case, "Because [she] loves me," says the Lord, "I will rescue her; I will protect her, for she acknowledges my name. She will call upon me, and I will answer her; I will be with her in trouble, I will deliver her and honor her. With long life I will satisfy her and show her my salvation." ~Psalm 91:14-16
Last night was rough. I couldn't sleep to begin with, but then when I did sleep Mom would cough loudly and wake me every hour or so. It had a phlegm-y sound to it, and at one point actually choked her a little and we had to help her sit up. That cough has continued all through today and, according to the nurse, it's one of the three signs of "The End". She said it's not phlegm but some secretion in the lungs that is being coughed up. Not a pleasant thought at all, especially since she has also gotten too weak to stand, even with help, or even to really sit up. She can no longer swallow anything, and we have to use a sponge on a stick soaked in morphine to give her pain medication. Dad created a paste from the Xanax and rubs it on the inside of her cheek so it absorbs. But because she can't take meds like she was able to before she groans a lot, is really restless, and the stress lines between her brows seem permanently etched into her skin.
She has, however, been able to speak a little today. When we were all up eating dinner Aunt Polly actually came up to the table to tell Dad that Mom just put her hands to her mouth and "yelled" his name. Sometimes she'll ask to get up not so she can go to the bathroom but so she can just hug Dad. At one point she was coughing or sitting up or something like that and she asked, weakly, "aren't you going to gather around me?" So she knows we're here, and she loves having us around her so she can see us. Yesterday Erin leaned over her while she sat in the wing chair and said "Hi Mom, it's Erin!" and Mom reached up and hugged her. I admit to being jealous. I don't remember the last hug I had from my mommy.
Otherwise we've been playing music for her in the DVD player so that it fills the room with the sounds of worship. All of Mom's favorite music, the CD of the five of us singing in 2002, an album I burned for Mom weeks ago that she never listened to... It's nice to hear more than just the sound of people talking, typing, or texting.
Our cousin Hannah finally made it here today in time for dinner and we have a very short time with her before she flies back to Utah tomorrow afternoon. However, it's nice to have her here at all, and good that she gets to see Mom one time before it's over.
As it is, we thank all of you, our readers, for your comments, your prayers, your help, and especially to my readers that don't really know me or my mom... I'm sorry I've been such a downer, but I promise I'll be back soon with posts that aren't quite so depressing. It isn't my goal to make all of you cry all the time, but really this is the only way to keep everyone informed and it means we don't have to tell the same story over and over and over and over and over and over.
On a completely unrelated note, I have a burned CD in the car of music I enjoy singing along with and the other day when my Dad borrowed my car that CD was playing. Normally he just turns off my music, but apparently he actually liked what he was hearing and he asked me to burn him a copy! !!!! So I did! I did warn him, however, to listen through the CD and pick which songs he actually wants since I'm positive he has no interest in Darren Criss singing Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" from Glee.
In any case, "Because [she] loves me," says the Lord, "I will rescue her; I will protect her, for she acknowledges my name. She will call upon me, and I will answer her; I will be with her in trouble, I will deliver her and honor her. With long life I will satisfy her and show her my salvation." ~Psalm 91:14-16
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Update 15
We sit here and listen to her breathe. Sometimes she'll snore. Sometimes she'll just stop breathing for a good long while. She only breathes seven times in a minute. A moment ago everyone was crowded around her bed holding her hand, brushing her hair from her face, just waiting. Waiting. Listening to her breathe.
She had a restless day, and it wasn't till around 7:30pm that she finally really slept. She was due for her medicine around 8 but Dad was reluctant to wake her after she finally got to sleep. Now it's closing in on 10:30. She coughed a moment ago.
I keep getting messages from people who read my blog, telling me how much they admire my strength. Well, I appreciate that, but I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm only strong because I really don't actually believe she's going to die. Most of the time I just think she's very sick but that she'll get better so I just don't worry about it and life goes on. I drove with Johnny to Cincinnati and back today just to get checks to pay my bills. We were gone almost the whole day. It was easy to forget, being so far away from the reality of my life right now. I laughed, I joked, I checked my mail. I just can't imagine life without Mom being in it, so I allow myself to believe she'll always be in it even though my rational self knows better. When she's actually gone I will most likely fall apart. The lies I've been telling myself will come to light, and my crystal castle will come crashing down around me, and my heart will break. So that strength is really an illusion, a wall set up to mask my pain.
As it is, she's still here, barely. Time grows increasingly shorter. We prepare for another restless night on the floor. And we wait.
She had a restless day, and it wasn't till around 7:30pm that she finally really slept. She was due for her medicine around 8 but Dad was reluctant to wake her after she finally got to sleep. Now it's closing in on 10:30. She coughed a moment ago.
I keep getting messages from people who read my blog, telling me how much they admire my strength. Well, I appreciate that, but I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm only strong because I really don't actually believe she's going to die. Most of the time I just think she's very sick but that she'll get better so I just don't worry about it and life goes on. I drove with Johnny to Cincinnati and back today just to get checks to pay my bills. We were gone almost the whole day. It was easy to forget, being so far away from the reality of my life right now. I laughed, I joked, I checked my mail. I just can't imagine life without Mom being in it, so I allow myself to believe she'll always be in it even though my rational self knows better. When she's actually gone I will most likely fall apart. The lies I've been telling myself will come to light, and my crystal castle will come crashing down around me, and my heart will break. So that strength is really an illusion, a wall set up to mask my pain.
As it is, she's still here, barely. Time grows increasingly shorter. We prepare for another restless night on the floor. And we wait.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Update 14
I really wasn't home today.
While I worked this morning Aunt Lauri and Erin made a grocery list after my good friend June asked me on FB if we needed anything. As the list got longer and longer I just wrote "dixie cups" to June and decided to get the rest myself.
Finished work, took a shower, ate two pieces of cheese, went to Walmart, spent an hour and a half printing pictures and getting groceries and buying myself a Payday to keep from falling over from low blood sugar, went to CVS to get a prescription for Grandma, and then came home. I also left my phone at home so as I drove down the hill to the house I was preparing to work myself into a respectable panic attack just in case Mom had died while I was gone and no one could get a hold of me.
She didn't.
When I got back I grabbed one of the bags of chips I just bought and ate them as my sisters and I began to tear apart Mom and Dad's room to separate Mom's clothes and jewelry between us. This, for some reason, didn't really bother me much. It was a little surreal, for sure, but it didn't really affect me, negatively or otherwise. Jennie, on the other hand, had a really hard time with it. But due to this major two-three hour project my wardrobe has nearly doubled in size. I have no idea where to put it all, and I even have a walk-in closet in my apartment!
Dinner today was leftover chicken from the wedding I was in a week and a half ago. Apparently there was quite a bit leftover. Also, June, the friend who got married, stopped by and we had a good long chat about all kinds of things that had very little to do with Mom and this situation. It was much needed and VERY appreciated. I've already told her that when Mom finally goes I'm escaping to June's house.
Mom slept all day long, from what I've been told. She had a very hard night and her legs have gotten extremely weak. Dad said that when he helps her to the commode it's more him than her now. Swallowing is very difficult, and I don't remember if I mentioned this yesterday but Mom actually choked on a pill and spat it back out a good fifteen minutes after initially taking it. That was a terrifying moment, since it took all of us a moment to figure out what was wrong and another moment to reach her. Due to this we don't allow her to swallow her pills anymore. Dad gives the Xanax by making a paste and rubbing it on the inside of her cheeks. The rest is given a different way, I won't be all TMI about that one...
She woke up about an hour ago due to some pain and discomfort, but hopefully tonight will be a quiet one. Last night she was up every 2-3 hours until around 6:30am so here's hoping we don't have a repeat. Our house is full to overflowing with people and we are still overwhelmed by the kindness of our friends and neighbors. We thank God every time we remember you.
While I worked this morning Aunt Lauri and Erin made a grocery list after my good friend June asked me on FB if we needed anything. As the list got longer and longer I just wrote "dixie cups" to June and decided to get the rest myself.
Finished work, took a shower, ate two pieces of cheese, went to Walmart, spent an hour and a half printing pictures and getting groceries and buying myself a Payday to keep from falling over from low blood sugar, went to CVS to get a prescription for Grandma, and then came home. I also left my phone at home so as I drove down the hill to the house I was preparing to work myself into a respectable panic attack just in case Mom had died while I was gone and no one could get a hold of me.
She didn't.
When I got back I grabbed one of the bags of chips I just bought and ate them as my sisters and I began to tear apart Mom and Dad's room to separate Mom's clothes and jewelry between us. This, for some reason, didn't really bother me much. It was a little surreal, for sure, but it didn't really affect me, negatively or otherwise. Jennie, on the other hand, had a really hard time with it. But due to this major two-three hour project my wardrobe has nearly doubled in size. I have no idea where to put it all, and I even have a walk-in closet in my apartment!
Dinner today was leftover chicken from the wedding I was in a week and a half ago. Apparently there was quite a bit leftover. Also, June, the friend who got married, stopped by and we had a good long chat about all kinds of things that had very little to do with Mom and this situation. It was much needed and VERY appreciated. I've already told her that when Mom finally goes I'm escaping to June's house.
Mom slept all day long, from what I've been told. She had a very hard night and her legs have gotten extremely weak. Dad said that when he helps her to the commode it's more him than her now. Swallowing is very difficult, and I don't remember if I mentioned this yesterday but Mom actually choked on a pill and spat it back out a good fifteen minutes after initially taking it. That was a terrifying moment, since it took all of us a moment to figure out what was wrong and another moment to reach her. Due to this we don't allow her to swallow her pills anymore. Dad gives the Xanax by making a paste and rubbing it on the inside of her cheeks. The rest is given a different way, I won't be all TMI about that one...
She woke up about an hour ago due to some pain and discomfort, but hopefully tonight will be a quiet one. Last night she was up every 2-3 hours until around 6:30am so here's hoping we don't have a repeat. Our house is full to overflowing with people and we are still overwhelmed by the kindness of our friends and neighbors. We thank God every time we remember you.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Update 13
"I'm ready for this to end."
Earlier today Mom wanted to sit up. Her back has really been hurting her, so much that she's lying on her side right now, and for the very first time since the palliative care began she cried. Dad just knelt next to the bed and held her while Aunt Kim held her hand.
A little while later she said "I wanna get up."
Dad: "What do you want to do?"
Mom: "I wanna get up."
Dad: "What do you want to do?"
Mom: "Get up."
Dad: "I know you want to get up. What do you want to do when you get up?"
She didn't answer.
We were all positive she'd be gone by this morning. Eight of us crammed into the family room around her bed sleeping on top of sleeping bags and chairs and couches, often just sitting up to make sure her chest was still rising. Suddenly at 5:30 this morning she sat up in bed and demanded water. Later, when the nurse came, her blood pressure was better, as was her chest cavity when she breathed. She was fairly active today, getting up a few times for the bathroom, spending time in the rocker, and at one point just standing next to the bed holding onto Dad for dear life.
Yesterday she kept saying "I'm sorry". Over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and we kept stopping whatever we were doing just to kneel down in front of her, try to get her attention, and then tell her with gentle force that she has absolutely nothing to be sorry about. This isn't her fault, she didn't choose this and we're not going to take her out back and shoot her like a lame horse (we didn't actually say that last part).
About an hour ago the last member of Mom's family finally arrived. Polly and Ken, new grandparents, tore themselves away from their hospitalized grandchild in Maryland and drove here, making it in time for dinner. We were very glad to finally see them, and to see the pictures of our beautiful new great-grandchild, great niece, cousin that they brought along with them.
We're still waiting. Mom's still here, she still gets up, still breathes, often she still talks! And it's not just the "I wanna get up" "drink" "bathroom" "yes" "no" and "I wanna go home" stuff it usually is. Today the nurse changed her medication and its frequency and Mom asked, quite clearly, "How often?". Sometimes she's here, but most of the time she's not. We're pretty sure she's waiting for something. Perhaps she was waiting to see her sister Polly. If that's the case then it definitely won't be long. If not, we have no idea. She passed her original time line days ago. She's a fighter. Dad called her the energizer bunny.
I know I keep saying that I'm ready for her to go. She's in pain, nothing really helps, she's not really here. Her water intake is less, sleeping is more. She looks terrible, nothing like the woman I will forever keep in my memory to block out this skeletal image. I stand by my feelings, though I know that once it finally happens the strength I have held for this long will disappear all at once and I'll probably leave to go drive really fast when I'm not blinded by tears. Or maybe it won't. There's really no way to know how I'll feel until it happens. Maybe I'll be numb. Maybe I'll be fine. Maybe I'll be glad. Not glad that she's gone, but glad that she's out of her misery. Maybe.
Earlier today Mom wanted to sit up. Her back has really been hurting her, so much that she's lying on her side right now, and for the very first time since the palliative care began she cried. Dad just knelt next to the bed and held her while Aunt Kim held her hand.
A little while later she said "I wanna get up."
Dad: "What do you want to do?"
Mom: "I wanna get up."
Dad: "What do you want to do?"
Mom: "Get up."
Dad: "I know you want to get up. What do you want to do when you get up?"
She didn't answer.
We were all positive she'd be gone by this morning. Eight of us crammed into the family room around her bed sleeping on top of sleeping bags and chairs and couches, often just sitting up to make sure her chest was still rising. Suddenly at 5:30 this morning she sat up in bed and demanded water. Later, when the nurse came, her blood pressure was better, as was her chest cavity when she breathed. She was fairly active today, getting up a few times for the bathroom, spending time in the rocker, and at one point just standing next to the bed holding onto Dad for dear life.
Yesterday she kept saying "I'm sorry". Over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and we kept stopping whatever we were doing just to kneel down in front of her, try to get her attention, and then tell her with gentle force that she has absolutely nothing to be sorry about. This isn't her fault, she didn't choose this and we're not going to take her out back and shoot her like a lame horse (we didn't actually say that last part).
About an hour ago the last member of Mom's family finally arrived. Polly and Ken, new grandparents, tore themselves away from their hospitalized grandchild in Maryland and drove here, making it in time for dinner. We were very glad to finally see them, and to see the pictures of our beautiful new great-grandchild, great niece, cousin that they brought along with them.
We're still waiting. Mom's still here, she still gets up, still breathes, often she still talks! And it's not just the "I wanna get up" "drink" "bathroom" "yes" "no" and "I wanna go home" stuff it usually is. Today the nurse changed her medication and its frequency and Mom asked, quite clearly, "How often?". Sometimes she's here, but most of the time she's not. We're pretty sure she's waiting for something. Perhaps she was waiting to see her sister Polly. If that's the case then it definitely won't be long. If not, we have no idea. She passed her original time line days ago. She's a fighter. Dad called her the energizer bunny.
I know I keep saying that I'm ready for her to go. She's in pain, nothing really helps, she's not really here. Her water intake is less, sleeping is more. She looks terrible, nothing like the woman I will forever keep in my memory to block out this skeletal image. I stand by my feelings, though I know that once it finally happens the strength I have held for this long will disappear all at once and I'll probably leave to go drive really fast when I'm not blinded by tears. Or maybe it won't. There's really no way to know how I'll feel until it happens. Maybe I'll be numb. Maybe I'll be fine. Maybe I'll be glad. Not glad that she's gone, but glad that she's out of her misery. Maybe.
Update: by George she's got it!
I figured it out! Well, kind of. I had some help from something I found online, but anywho, I imported Mom singing How Beautiful back in Dec 2002 onto my computer, created a video consisting of a single photo with the track in the background and will now upload it to blogger so all of you can listen and enjoy. :D
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Update 12
Mom is still hanging in there.
It was another hard night of Mom waking up at 5:30am and getting antsy and getting up for the bathroom. According to my aunt, at one point Mom looked right at Dad and told him to drop dead. Which we all know is not at all a Lynn thing to say.
Two of Dad's childhood friends from CT came into town yesterday and spent the day with us. After a Skyped church service they came back to the house and when Mom woke to their hellos she said a faint "Hi!" and wrapped her arms around Nancy. I was very surprised by this, to be completely honest, although no one else really was. She had a short conversation with them consisting mostly of one word answers and a lot of water. It was lovely having Nancy and Lynn here, a day full of new stories from and about Dad and reminiscence from earlier days.
Later, once Johnny and I came back from a long ordeal trying to print pictures at Walmart and after Nancy and Lynn left but before dinner, I sat down in a recliner with the new Best of Sesame Street DVD I found and bought (SO EXCITED!) and listened to Jennie as she read Mom her favorite book The View From Saturday. Mom was incredibly uncomfortable in her bed so we got her in the rocking chair again for a bit as Jennie read, also stopping periodically to help her drink. The pain lines appeared between her brows but every time Jennie asked if she wanted her to go on, Mom would nod or say "Yes". Even after she was back in bed, and even after we shoved a bag of frozen beans behind her back due to major back pain, and even after Jennie went to eat and Erin took over they read close to half the book. At one point when Jennie was reading Mom told us to get her a pen and paper for both sides (direct quote, by the way) and we tried, but she couldn't even grasp the pen and then she fell back to sleep. We know that she wanted to write each of us a letter before she wasn't able to anymore, and we wonder if that's the unfinished business she keeps referring to and what she was trying to do when she asked for a pen and paper.
Every time I see Mom today she's paler and paler. When she sleeps her eyes are partially open. It's becoming very difficult for her to take pills. Today she actually spat out the morphine pill and we had to try again. Breathing has become slow and shallow and just now she began to wheeze a little. It frightens me, and it makes the want to be down here with her significantly less because I'm honestly not thrilled about being right there when she dies, or waking up to find she died as we slept, or anything like that. But here I sit, next to the silent TV that is playing the recap of the Steelers/Jets game that was avidly watched by Dad, Johnny, and Uncle Fred. We were once again going through photos upstairs and I keep finding these beautiful photos of my mom during her college years, or with Lauri as children. I showed one photo to a couple ladies at church this morning and they both said "You know who this is? It's Emily!" only it was actually Mom. Apparently we look a lot alike.
We also found a CD that the five Blood ladies recorded back at Christmas of 2002 and on it is my Mom singing "How Beautiful" by Twila Paris. Once I figure out how I will be adding it to this blog. If I can't figure out a way, I will find some other way of sharing it with you.
Time grows short, and my heart tells me it will not be long. I'll be surprised if she makes it to tomorrow evening. But we're ready to let her go. It's time. She hurts, she's dependent, she's fairly unresponsive. It's not fair of us to keep her here, no matter how she feels about it being too soon. It will be hard, but we have spent the past two weeks growing accustomed to the idea. In some ways she's already gone. We aren't happy that she must go, but we can look back on her life in all it's beauty and wonder and know that, though it was short, it was a life fully lived.
It was another hard night of Mom waking up at 5:30am and getting antsy and getting up for the bathroom. According to my aunt, at one point Mom looked right at Dad and told him to drop dead. Which we all know is not at all a Lynn thing to say.
Two of Dad's childhood friends from CT came into town yesterday and spent the day with us. After a Skyped church service they came back to the house and when Mom woke to their hellos she said a faint "Hi!" and wrapped her arms around Nancy. I was very surprised by this, to be completely honest, although no one else really was. She had a short conversation with them consisting mostly of one word answers and a lot of water. It was lovely having Nancy and Lynn here, a day full of new stories from and about Dad and reminiscence from earlier days.
Every time I see Mom today she's paler and paler. When she sleeps her eyes are partially open. It's becoming very difficult for her to take pills. Today she actually spat out the morphine pill and we had to try again. Breathing has become slow and shallow and just now she began to wheeze a little. It frightens me, and it makes the want to be down here with her significantly less because I'm honestly not thrilled about being right there when she dies, or waking up to find she died as we slept, or anything like that. But here I sit, next to the silent TV that is playing the recap of the Steelers/Jets game that was avidly watched by Dad, Johnny, and Uncle Fred. We were once again going through photos upstairs and I keep finding these beautiful photos of my mom during her college years, or with Lauri as children. I showed one photo to a couple ladies at church this morning and they both said "You know who this is? It's Emily!" only it was actually Mom. Apparently we look a lot alike.
We also found a CD that the five Blood ladies recorded back at Christmas of 2002 and on it is my Mom singing "How Beautiful" by Twila Paris. Once I figure out how I will be adding it to this blog. If I can't figure out a way, I will find some other way of sharing it with you.
Time grows short, and my heart tells me it will not be long. I'll be surprised if she makes it to tomorrow evening. But we're ready to let her go. It's time. She hurts, she's dependent, she's fairly unresponsive. It's not fair of us to keep her here, no matter how she feels about it being too soon. It will be hard, but we have spent the past two weeks growing accustomed to the idea. In some ways she's already gone. We aren't happy that she must go, but we can look back on her life in all it's beauty and wonder and know that, though it was short, it was a life fully lived.
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