November 21,2018 I get a call from my mom's nurse practitioner while I am at work. I believe the time was between 1:30-2 pm. She says, "Shuntella, we really need to have the discussion about placing your mother in Hospice care. We have tried all kinds of medicines(she list them name by name), but nothing is working. I know this is hard to take in but she just isn't getting better sweetie. We don't just offer Hospice care just for the sake of offering. Generally, when we suggest Hospice there is a 6 month to 1 year life expectancy. Blah blah blah blah blah." That's how I remember the rest of the conversation. I remember walking over to my dear friend at work and I began to cry. I couldn't believe this was happening. I thought I was prepared for this moment but NOTHING absolutely NOTHING prepares you for this. My friend offered to drive me to the hospital but I declined the offer because I had to pull myself together and handle this. WRONG! I made it maybe a mile or two down Richmond road and had to call one of my best friends to come and get me. My first moment in vulnerability. I couldn't do this simple task of driving to the hospital to see my dying mother. Who was going to get the kids? how was I going to tell the kids? I have to call the family. Who do I call first? How do I tell them? Should I wait until after I speak to the Hospice people? Hospice? Bluegrass Care Navigators? Death? She is leaving me? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!!!
True to my nature I suck it up. I don't have time for this crying shit. Shit needs to be taken care of so suck it sweetie and let's handle this shit. My best friend and I get the kids. I tell them on our way to the hospital. I call my brother who is out of town and tell him to come home. I call my Aunt, she offers to call the rest of the family. I call my cousin who lives in Florida and tell her to prepare herself to take a flight to Lexington.
November 22,2018 Thanksgiving. She was in good spirits kept talking about my Aunt Henrietta's banana pudding and how she always cooked. My brother came home.
November 23,2018 we prepared my mom's room for her to come home. She wanted to come home. Hospice was coming with her hospital bed tomorrow. She told them she wanted a hospital bed. They(Hospice Representatives and her Nurse Practitioner) had discussed Hospice care with my mom. She asked if she was dying. The NP's response was,"Let' just say your body is getting tired Myrtle and we just want to make you as comfortable as possible." She smiled and said," That's ok, I know Jesus and he loves me. I just have to learn to love myself."
November 24,2018 The bed, oxygen tanks arrive. I go shopping for bed sheets to fit the mattress. I don't want white sheets feels and looks like death. I chose a pretty blue pattern and a white and grey in a similar pattern.
Kira and I pick her up from the hospital.I ride in the backseat. We stop at Rally's to get Devin something to eat. Mom looks out the window and ask, " Are we on Georgetown Street?" Yes ma'am.
"Mr. Lenoard's house used to be right there. It's gone now. Wonder why they tore it down?" Mr. Lenoard is my mother's foster father and where she grew up. I smiled because she remembered and she ALWAYS said the same exact thing every time we came down Georgetown Street and passed where his house used to be, (there is a new house built there now.")
We get her home and to her room. The first thing she says is,"That's not my bed." We all laugh. "Yes mom we know it's not your bed. Remember you told them you wanted a hospital bed?" She says hmmm... and that was the beginning of a very long night.
She was very uncomfortable. Tossing and turning in the bed. She was having a really hard time breathing and I didn't know what to do. Finally at 8 pm the Hospice nurse comes. I laugh here now because she was coming to do paperwork and she and I both were unprepared for the events that happened next. Mom really became anxious. The nurse called the on call doctor and they upped her dose of meds to keep her comfortable. Mom's breathes became shallow. I distinctly remember the nurse looking at me like she didn't know how to tell me what was about to happen or quickly happening. I looked at her and asked,"Should I call people to come?" Yes.
That night I didn't sleep. People were coming all the way up until 4 am. To pay their respects and see Aunt Myrt, Cousin Myrt, Mrs. Myrtle one last time.
November 25,2018:
She's still alive. In and out of coherence. Often agitated. I was diligent with keeping her comfortable and medicated. I used her little writing tablet she kept by her bed. I kept it and a pencil at the foot of the bed on a food tray that Hospice provided. The social worker came and saw mom so uncomfortable she sprung into action. She was on the phone so quick and making things happen so fast I didn't know what to do. By the time she left we had meds being delivered, a CNA coming 2 times a week to bathe her and mom's oxygen turned up to 8(typically 5 is as high as you can or should go) to help her breathe. I wanted to cry,but I am not one to allow people I don't know see me crack.
I had been schooled as to how the days may unfold by different folk. One being the "Hospice Rally".It's when your loved one appears to be getting better they are eating, talking and just having a good time. An indication the end is near. I watched and waited. I took video. I climbed in the bed with my momma. I kissed my momma. I sung with my momma. I had never done that before. I stayed by my momma's side. I didn't want her to die alone. She always said she didn't want to die alone. And if you know me, you KNOW MY MOMMA WASN'T GOING TO DIE ALONE ON MY WATCH.
November 26,2018:
Her Hospice Rally Day
The days before were people in and out still to visit with mom. She got to eat all her favorite food. My Aunt Henrietta's banana pudding that momma had been asking for, chicken and dumplings, her Sprite and Ginger Ale. Just before going to the hospital my Aunt Henrietta had made my mom some liver and rice. She had called Aunt Henrietta to inform her that "She had made THE BEST Liver she had ever had!" All her favorites. The banana pudding was and chicken and dumplings were about the only thing I could get her to stay awake and eat by this point.
1pm my cell phone rings. It's my little brother who is in prison and can't come home. The priest has allowed him to call to talk to mom. She is staying incoherent more than coherent. But for a few minutes when she hears, "Hi momma! it's your son Terral momma." Her eyes light up and she smiles. She briefly looks around the room because she can't see him(I tell her he is on the phone) and says,"Hi Terral." He quickly tells her he loves her and he is sorry for all he has done and that he can't be there now for her. She fades away. My brother is frantically asking if she hears him and asking why isn't she answering him. I try to explain that this is where she is at and she hears him she just can't respond.
She went to sleep and her spirit didn't come back.
November 28,2018:
She is hardly waking up. Her eyes are becoming empty. Her kidneys are shutting down. She is hardly going. No # 2 for a week now. No smiles. No moans unless you moved her. She would take a few ice chips. I had to hold her mouth closed for her to swallow. No more cries for God to help her. No more ,"Pooh-Pooh help me. Pooh-Pooh I love you.You're a good daughter."
Just ever deepening swallow breathes.
November 30,2018:
Her eyes are empty. She isn't moaning even when you move her. She smiled early that day because her last grand-baby came to see her. My little brother's son. He is 3 years old. Without any fear A'mirean is placed on the bed to kiss her and he smiles and kisses her on the cheek. As he stands by her bedside I snap a picture. She takes what is seemingly her last breath. It is just him, my niece(his sister) and myself in the room. I freeze. Oh Shit! Oh Shit! Oh Shit. My niece ask what's wrong. I say,"she stopped breathing. Oh Shit!" I go down the hallway to get my brother Renoard (the 2nd oldest) he runs by her side. She comes back. He picks up her hand and says,"I'm here momma . Me and Pooh-Pooh are here."
Inhale.
She is gone.
5:40 pm
I am a spiritual woman. So I made SURE my momma's journey to the afterlife was done correctly and with love. My sisters came to support and help me. Kira just so happened had taken her next to last final at U of L. So my cousin Quiana went to pick her up. Devin was with a friend so he had to be brought home. Everyone came to say good-bye to my momma. How ironic that the same nurse that came to do paperwork in the beginning was there at the end. She said " I am here for YOU. If I need to tell people to leave then i will. YOU tell me when to call the funeral home and what funeral home to call because it's YOUR CHOICE and I will take care of it. And she did. I will be forever grateful to Hospice.
The Days After:
The days to follow are slowly coming back to me as to the events that took place. I really didn't have time to grieve. There was so much to be done, people coming by, the roof was getting fixed. It was a lot. It's not the death that is hard. It's the paperwork, the decisions, people's opinions of how you should do things. Like UGH!!!
My eating consisted of sweets and alcohol. I was determined to "drink until this shit was funny." Literally that's what I said and meant.
It was full of wonderful memories and family and friends that I hadn't seen in some time. But it was also lonely. I couldn't dance. There was no music in the house. She wasn't waking me up with church music at 3 am. She wasn't singing. She wasn't here. I thought I was ready, but I was so far from ready.
For a person who grits her teeth and smiles when she is in absolute pain. It was difficult to do. I had it all together. "No worries." My favorite phrase. I can't sleep through the night(it's better now but I have my sleepless nights still). Worrying about how everyone else is doing. I drink to sleep. But I can't keep drinking like this because my father was an alcoholic. DAMN! How am I supposed to cope? Fudge rounds, candy, Cool Ranch Doritos, Pound Cake and Cheesecake that's how. Oh and glasses of wine.
I didn't officially "break down" until December 21st. I remember because I was listening to Christmas music at work and that ain't me. Not a huge fan of the holidays, Christmas especially(but that's a whole other blog), but it was my momma's favorite. She literally woke up Christmas morning and shouted," HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS." I found myself crying at work. I couldn't stop. I kept running to the bathroom to get my shit together. It wasn't working. When I got home finally at 6 pm, I cried until Saturday morning. I didn't answer the phone, I didn't return text messages. I didn't talk to my children. I just cried. My chest hurt. My eyes hurt. I couldn't breathe but dammit it felt good. To release. To mourn my momma. To not put on a brave face. To not hear people say," it's going to be ok. Don't cry." I cried. I allowed myself to be vulnerable for me. I allowed this scared little girl to not be ok. That is a huge feat for me. HUGE!
Present:
I have my moments when my energy is solemn and I don't know why and I just can't seem to make a shift in it. So, I let it be and experience it for what it is. I still eat the junk. But I am more aware of doing it now and address the feelings and emotions associated with it. Let me tell ya, that shit hurts!!! Cause it isn't always about my momma being gone. Her being gone is the surface issue, but it's the mess I keep digging at that gets me. What is this about? And what is that about? Now what is this really about? And how did this make you feel Shuntella? And what is that really about? (Inside joke for my SFM sisters). But that is what I do. I am grateful to have learned how to deal with my shit and heal. Learning that helped heal my momma's womb, my womb, my daughters and future wombs to come in my family. I did the work momma for US. I wanted to heal us. I learned to LOVE me and you learned to LOVE YOU before you transitioned. Kira, Devin and I watched it. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. Kira and Devin formed relationships with you that me and my brothers never really had with you. Only because you were a young single mother of 6. You HAD to handle your business and keep us on the straight and narrow as much as you could. You STAYED PRAYED UP!
It's rough on all of us here in the house especially because we had been with her. I have taken care of my momma for at least 18 years. I saw parts of my momma no child wants to see. I feed her. I bathed her. When she became incontinent I cleaned her. Combed her hair. Dressed her. Took her to doctors appointments.Fought with her. LOVED her with everything in me. I was blessed to hear her tell me she was proud of me. That's all I needed to hear.
The music is back in the house. At any given moment from any 3 rooms in this house someone is playing music or singing. We start and end the day with it. Momma wouldn't have it any other way.
Keep praying for us. Don't stop asking if I'm ok. One day I will tell the truth and say, "No. I'm not ok and cry." And that's ok. I don't have to be strong all the time, but I will be cautious about who I share my vulnerability too.
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