You Think You Are Ready...

Tonight at 9:55, we allowed my 87 year old mother to die.

Dad died in 1988 and Mom has wanted to die ever since.

She was the spunkiest woman I have ever known. She was a Sergeant in the Marine Corp. during World War II, and made it clear to my sister that she wants a 21 gun salute at her funeral. My sister offered me the flag because she has my Dad's, but really, that doesn't interest me. I don't want anything that reminds me that there ARE wars in the world.

I don't want anything that reminds me that we allowed her to die.

She taught me that the word "shit" was one of the most powerful words in the English language but for it to maintain it's power, it must be used in the most appropriate circumstance. She taught me to always do hospital corners when I made a bed. She taught me to stick up for myself and that I could DO anything or BE anyone I wanted to BE. She taught me to NEVER be intimidated by anyone.

She was a stickler when it came to using proper English which in turn made me a stickler with my daughters. All this became a gift to me. Like polished buttons on a marine jacket, she polished my rough edges. I became a woman of strength, substance, opinion, and discipline. And yes, one who uses the word "shit" in the most appropriate of circumstances.

I'm not sure what happened to my Mother's spunk, but for the last few years she had given up on life. She sat in a chair and read book after book until her eyes went bad, and withdrew a little further when her hearing started to go. Creating Hell between her ears, she existed in a quiet world which was ruled by fear and worry.

She lost a down syndrome baby at three months old, soon after giving birth to stillborn twins. This cut the wind from her sails but she pulled herself together creating a successful career at a local hospital. She was the boss and it suited her.

We butted heads while I was growing up. She was overprotective which I really did not understand until much later, after I had my own children and realized how tragic it would be to lose one of them.

Actually she was the perfect choice to be my mother. By bumping up against her values, religious believes, her fear and worry, I discovered myself. Our debates forced me to read and study, to meditate, to ASK for Divine guidance, to seek my own truth, to find my own inner peace and to never fear or worry about the unknown.

She lived with my sister and when they would vacation I would take care of her. I would spend days trying to teach her about the power of thought and how we create our own reality and she would really "get it." I made her watch "Life is beautiful" every time she stayed with me. The problem was that she had dementia and would forget as quickly as I would teach.

Tuesday morning my sister went down to my Mother's apartment and found her on the floor between the bed and the wall. She had fallen and broken a hip.

The paramedics arrived with their sirens on and transported her to the hospital. Her health was poor to begin with and because of the blood thinner she took everyday to avoid blood clots, they postponed her surgery while they gave her frozen plasma to thicken her blood. During the night, her kidneys started to fail as did her heart. Her lungs began to fill with fluid and the decision was made to try to get her stronger and healthier before they did the surgery. Then the medication influx began but the one that was to clear her kidneys did not work. We were told that once the anethesiologist got her under, they may have to leave the tubes in indefinitely. She could throw a clot because of her history of clots which was exacerbated by the fact that they had to thicken her blood. I could see the train wreck before it happened.

She spent the day talking about her experience in Netherworlds, about times in the past and about people in the present who had left this world long ago. She asked question after question that were impossible to answer because they were preposterous. She told the Respiratory Therapist that she was mad at him and the nurse that she owed her a dance. She told my sister that she could walk on water and wondered why my sister could not.

We spent the day looking for rehabilitation centers, finding out about veterans benefits for hospice care, and worrying about the warnings we had received from the doctors of all the things that could go wrong with this high risk surgery. Each time the doctor would come in there were more warnings, more symptoms, more questions for us to answer.

And then.... The doctor came in and mentioned another option. Stop all the medication and keep her comfortable. He finally came clean with the truth. If they removed the oxygen, she would not be able to sustain life on her own.

My sister and I, without having to say a word, looked at each other and knew what she would want us to do. We gathered all our children and grandchildren to say goodbye.

It took much longer for nature to take it's course than we had hoped, as if she was saying, "I'll leave when I get damn good and ready." Eventually, that old broken body let her go and the room was filled with peace. The doctor came in to pronounce the death and praised us for making a decision that was in our mother's best interest, but after watching her fight death for one hour, neither of us felt praiseworthy. We signed papers, gave instructions, went through all the motions in a fog. After the day we had just spent my mind was mush.

But as we finished up the loose ends and walked to my car, I had to think to myself, "You know...I think she really does walk on water."

I love you, Mom. I imagine Dad taking you by your healed arthritic hands and pulling you close; twirling and laughing and flipping your skirt to show off those beautiful legs that you were always so proud of. I am so at peace to know that you and Dad are together again, right where you belong.....