Hospice

Ugh. Hospice. The word has such a negative connotation. Hospice = imminent death. When Dad left the hospital, he came home on hospice care and was with us for two weeks before he died. The hospice team was wonderful, especially his nurse, Albert - a gentle giant who cared for Dad so lovingly. But even so, we knew Dad was coming home to die.

I have so many thoughts running through my head, so forgive me if this is a bit jumbled.  Mom has been talking about death for a few months. She is realizing she is at the end of her life and it is hitting her right in the face. She is not giving up, it's just where she is.  Those are her words, not mine. Her food and drink intake has seriously diminished. She has lost quite a bit of weight. And, she has asked to speak to each of her children, to tell them how much she loves us.  I spoke with her doctor and he suggested hospice. He said that people know their bodies and often times sense when it is time. The fact that Mom has stated all she has, and the lack of appetite, he believes her time is on earth is coming to an end. I hesitated. We don't know if Mom is close to death, despite what she says and hospice = death. He reassured me that is not the case. Mom will be evaluated, and if 'approved', she/we will receive help in many, many ways. And then he prayed with me.  Yes, our doctor prayed with me. God bless you, Dr. Chris. 

Kindred Hospice. Only two days in, and I am very happy. Everyone we have come in contact with has been nothing short of wonderful, and comforting.  Not only will hospice provide material needs, they provide physical and mental support. Which we all need. I need.

I battle with the fact that here is a woman who by all appearances, looks healthy. Yes, her physical abilities have weakened, but she has no actual ailments. When she doesn't eat, I feel she is giving up. She has tried to explain, and on one hand I understand, on the other, I do not. Yes, she's 91 - if she is ready, so be it. But at least eat. Drink. And yes, I feel I have failed in providing sustenance.  Mom talks of death, then will say she's not going anywhere. And yet, almost every conversation lately has been about death; can't wait to see her Mom and Dad; excited to see Dad, and hopes he is there waiting for her by the Gates; she hopes she has enough money to leave each of us; what are the funeral arrangements, etc. Brittany and Danielle, the two nurses we have seen, have helped ease my mind. They have told us it is part of the process. Let her eat what she wants. Give her whatever she wants, if anything. Any kind of morsel will do. Let her sleep. Let her talk and just listen. Just make her happy and create memories. Laugh. Play music. There is nothing we can do. 

Knowing there is a support team behind us is a relief. Knowing that if Mom takes a turn for the worse, we don't have to figure out what is happening. We call Kindred, and they will have someone here. Any questions, however small, they are here to help. And as Mom declines, should she need further assistance, they will be with us through it all. Danielle, Mom's nurse, will be with us every step of the way, on this uncharted path. 

God's timing is perfect. My baby sister moved to Florida in December. It happened fast, and everything fell into place perfectly. Perhaps this is the reason why. I am not sure Terry and I could handle this on our own. Having a sibling so near is priceless. Mom wants to go peacefully.  All her children and siblings are prepared (as much as we can be) and have reassured Mom that if she is ready to go, it's okay. We understand.

I realize now that hospice does not mean imminent death. It means support. It means love. We do not know how much time Mom has left. It could be weeks, even months. But we do know she is definitly beginning her final chapter. We are hoping it is a peaceful journey. All prayers are appreciated.