Fading

December 9, 2001

Here I am, sitting in my mom’s room in a nursing home. Dinner has been served, even to me – on a tray. I help to feed my mom but she doesn’t eat much. I’m reminded of the days when I fed my son when he was still a baby. The food is all in small pieces – chopped up turkey (whole pieces for me), stuffing, gravy. All her liquids are thickened because they are worried about her ability to swallow liquids. I also get some ick “onion soup” and spinich. We both get lemon merange pie. She has dozed off and is sleeping and peaceful. The TV is on, turned to the Food Channel. I am sitting at her desk trying to type this out on my mini computer’s tiny keyboard.

Earlier, just before dinner my mother was often getting very upset. All afternoon she has been asking me to “get her out of here”. When I ask her where does she want to go, she can’t find the words to tell me. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to be where she is – lying in bed with her feet up. Finally she starts crying, almost on the verge of hysteria. I go to stand next to her bed. While I hold her hand, my other hand gently scratches her head through her hair, like one does with a dog, while saying schoosch, schoosch, its OK. She gets calmer, settles down.

I had a meeting today with her doctor. He seems like a nice man. I guess you have to be to specialize in geriatrics. Dealing with the relatives of dying patients must be a very common part of his practice. He is unable to give me any time reference for how long she has. Days or weeks, probably not many months. Her kidneys are failing. We have decided not to do anything to correct problems. We will let nature take its course. And in the meantime try to keep her comfortable. Now its up to Nature to decide how long it takes to fade. I can only watch and wait and be here.