7 days...

[beanside]

It's been a week now since mom died. Weird fucking week. On one hand, it was spent doing paperwork galore (cremation authorization, death certificates, body identification--more on that last one later.) On the other hand, because Mom didn't want to interrupt everyone's life, or have any viewing, or spend time in the funeral home, it made things very simple. On the other, it doesn't really offer any closure.

She's been sick this year a lot. Small heart attacks, dizzy spells, etc. We all were pretty complacent about it. "It got to be a bit of a routine. Every few weeks, she'd start to feel bad, and we'd call the ambulance, have her taken to a nearby hospital. During these, she'd be lucid and chat with the nice medics, and generally be okay. Sometimes, they would find a reason, sometimes they wouldn't.

She had another mild heart attack about 6 weeks ago, and ended up in Good Samaritan Hospital. It's a smaller, regional hospital that covers some of the north-east city and county. It's closest to our house, so we've spent plenty of time there between Mom and Grandmom before her. They decided that she'd had a mild heart attack, which would have been her 2nd in 3 months, and sent her to Union Memorial for a cardiac catheter.

I'll start off by saying, I don't like Union. There's some awesome doctors, and they did do mom's bypass and stents, but they're a bigger hospital, a city hospital, and the place is about as welcoming as a gynocologists stirrups.

They did the cardiac cath, and gave her drugs to help her pain that sent her into a paranoia laced delusion that had her thinking there was a riot. When the nurses wouldn't help, she called 911 to request police to come and clean it up, because they were loud and she was worried that people would get hurt. The next night, they sent her home, still a bit delusional and confused.

It took a couple of days for her to get back to normal. Then, a couple of days later, she went to her PCP, but started feeling really badly. Just before the ambulance arrived, she went into cardiac arrest. CPR and a defibrillator brought her back in the office, and again in the ambulance. This time, they took her to St. Joseph.

She spent a week there, during which they did a battery of tests. The guesstimate was that a blood clot or an arrhythmia had caused her arrest. We played another round of "Please don't give her percocet or morphine." (This time, it was a funeral on the ward for twins who had died, and a nurse who made her go to mass.) There was discussion about something called a "life vest," which is an external defibrillator Unfortunately, Medicare denied the request, as they required two instances of arrythmia/tachycardia/fibrillation. I'm still pissed.

So, she was sent to a rehab unit, to help regain her strength. She came home on Nov 22, the day before her birthday. We had birthday Chinese dinner, and a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner from Cracker Barrel. It was wonderful.

Friday was good, too. I got a little overstimulated towards the end of the night, but I'd been sitting with Mom and Dad all day.

Saturday seemed fine. Jess and I decided to go see Big Hero 6. I was enjoying it a lot, until I felt my phone buzz. I took it outside and got a panicked call from Shelly that I needed to come home now. I ducked back in, grabbed Jess and we ran.

We arrived home to two ambulances, a firetruck, another EMS SUV and a couple of cops.

A very nice paramedic told us they'd been able to get her heart beating, and that they were taking her to St. Josephs.

I drove and Jess, Dad and I rushed over. Shelly and George stayed home with the dog.

When I walked in (a little ahead of Dad and Jess) a paramedic was waiting. He asked if we were the family, and said that the doctor would be right out to speak with us.

I tried to joke, saying that didn't sound ominous at all. He didn't even smile halfheartedly, and I knew. The nurse took us to a little back room, and a minute later, the doctor came in to get info, and let us know that it didn't look good. Ten minutes later, he came back to tell us that she was gone. About half an hour later, they let us in for one last visit.

And then, it was over. Mom didn't want to be a bother, so she just wanted to be cremated with a memorial service later.

My sister is the outgoing one, whereas I get overstimulated easily, and suck shit at talking. Rather than put shit on my father, who isn't really good at either, we split duties. I found the place we used for cremation, took care of the paperwork, etc.

It was good up til about Tuesday, when I got the last bit of paperwork, a PDF for the identification of the body. I read over it, then got to the bottom, where there was a picture of my dead, frozen mother's body.

To say it was not a particularly nice picture is an understatement. Mom, like the rest of the family had bad teeth,so her lips had sunken halfway in. She'd died with her mouth open from the breathing tube, so closing it after the fact made a weird wrinkle on the one side of her cheek. Not sure if they had to break the jaw to do that. She just looked cold and wrong.

It fucked me up pretty badly. I sobbed for awhile that night. It wasn't good. But, I did the paperwork the next day and filled it out.

Friday night, I had my work holiday party, which was fun. I kind of needed a break.

I'm really glad that mom didn't want the three day viewing shit. It would have been hours of agony. On the other hand, business as usual feels weird. No closure, as stupid as it sounds.
I am already so fucking tired of my own grief. I exhaust myself. As I said, this does not bode well for the next few months. It's going to be a long, snappish, sad few months.

On the other hand, it's been a year since Jess broke off contact with her father. I'm very proud of her. I know it's been tough.

Comments

[realpestilence]

My mother died several years ago, very unexpectedly, from complications due to flu. It was terribly hard on my brother to i.d. our mom, for similar reasons-you can tell yourself that's not her all you want to. I'm both guilty and glad that I didn't have to do it myself. She didn't want a funeral, either, just a cremation; and no fuss or ceremony. So we didn't gather together to scatter her ashes or anything; again, the guys took her to her parents' plots and gave her back and sometimes, I'm so angry with her for not giving me a place I can center on, or a memory of saying goodbye that it's hard to acknowledge to myself just how upset it makes me. I have some loose understanding of what you're feeling, and the unreality of it all.

I don't know that there's any easier way to get through it than to just...push yourself through each day and do your damnedest. It doesn't happen quickly, but it does happen. You're allowed to be sad or snappish, you're allowed to be angry, you're allowed to miss her and you're allowed to forget sometimes and laugh because something makes you happy. You're allowed to feel however you feel. You're allowed to take care of yourself, and put yourself first sometimes, when you need that.

I'm sure you know all that. But it's good to hear it from other people, too, I find.

Do you have any photos of her from good times, family activities or something? Maybe having those set up in obvious places would help you focus on better memories of her.

[beanside]

Yeah. I do have so many good memories and pics and stories.

In a lot of ways I was grateful that we didn't do the whole 3 day viewing and stuff. It would have been bad for my health. I only have so many spoons to use towards being a "real girl." (Cue up Buffy the vampire Slayers "Going Through the Motions.")

It's something my chronic pain and fibro have taken over the years. I used to be able to socialize so much easier and more than I do now.

So yeah. Good and bad.