The Habit of Living

This from Joann:

Although I cannot claim to know the exact words Mom would use for this entry, I am reasonably sure of what she would write.  Five weeks ago today was the last time she walked a few steps using her walker.  Having been rolled to the hospital bed the day before in an office chiar - wait, it sounds worse than it was: she couldn't take another step, Becky and I couldn't carry her, the chair was nearby and we are always willing to use whatever is at hand when given a task.  She was comfortable overnight, but when the nurse visited the next day. Mom was ready to get up.  After walking ten feet and sitting in her chair for 5 minutes, she announced she was ready to go back to bed.   As Becky walked the nurse to her car, Mom looked at me and said, "I don't want to get up again."  She has since asked to and sometimes been frustrated that we won't allow it, but I have to believe somewhere she knows it is not possible; that it would do her more harm than good.

During these weeks, she has slowly lost her appetite; her ability to type, to read, to stay awake.  She doesn't move often - no more wiggling her feet as she's done her whole life.  In the last week, she has stated more than once that her beloved Rays don't have to win another game - she is satisfied with what they have achieved. Her deep, abiding interest in baseball is sliding away.  Since Tuesday, there has been no desire to check her email, which was the first, last, and most frequent request of every day.

Awake after a bed pan need in the early hours this morning, I was thinking of what the nurse told me this week.  Mom is in the habit of living.  Anyone over 80 is, as she sees it.  Her patients in their 50's and 60's would not still be alive if they had to deal with all the losses Mom has endured over the past two months.  But because one learns to adjust to 'surrendering the things of youth', one puts up with these great indignities.  Until this week, Mom nightly voiced her thoughts that the diagnosis was wrong.  Ignoring the confinement and other changes, she was using the fact that she wasn't in pain as a sign that she would get better.  A few nights ago, she said, "I'm not well and I don't like how this is going."  Clinging to life by habit, I believe she is now beginning to accept.  With that attitude change, physical problems have worsened.  Hospice thinks she may hold on as long as the Rays are playing.  I'm not so sure.  She seems to have realeased that.  So, we wait.

Becky, James, and Veronica are in touch throughout each day.  So many of you reading this have surrounded us with your prayers and encouragement.  Truly, I feel like we are in the Olympic Curling event, clearing the path for Mom to go where she is meant to be.

Love and prayers from here to there