Since the early hours of Tuesday morning she is now on the happy meds and stronger morphine. She has stopped fighting my dad. Mostly sleeps. And keeps saying "thank you" in a servile way, which was always a contradiction within her that would come out at times. Tomorrow, a bed may become available at the local hospice.
Monday night was possibly the worst with her screams of pain, and saying she wanted to throw herself on the floor and die. I looked at the pillows and wondered if there was anything I could do. At times she would hold my sister's and my hand, gripping tightly through the spasms of pain. She said this was worse than childbirth. And then she could not bear to be touched - anywhere. What do you say? It is going to get better? Soothing nothingness words are hard to find especially when my mother does not put up with any patronising. The nurses finally arrived with their hypodermics and arranged for a syringe driver to be fitted up at midnight so that it could automatically dispense pain relief and happy meds.
According to a district nurse, the difference in her between Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning makes her wonder if the cancer has gone to the brain. Last night we began bringing the grandchildren to see her and maybe say their goodbyes. My 21 year old daughter arrived late last night to visit today and my 17 year old son later today.
My life had been put on hold with clients being postponed or cancelled and no new enquiries being taken. Yesterday evening I was expecting a call from someone about after life arrangements and instead picked up the phone on a potential new client. I was obviously distressed but tried to not let her feel bad on intruding. Poor thing. I bet she will remember that call!
Yesterday was emotionally the worst for me. And I continue to feel raw. Is there ever a straightforward death with emotions that express sadness for the person passing? I do not think I am crying for her and I think that is sad. So sad. Meanwhile, we would not let a four legged animal endure that level of pain.
Yesterday my father gave me the name of an obscure book he wanted to obtain for my mother. Something about science and healing and the scriptures. I look at this slip of paper in disbelief trying to work out the purpose of this book for someone who was at the last days of life and was out of it. I delicately probed. He told me it was for her to carry on her journey. Stupidly I couldn't quite get my head around any journey my mother might be taking and wondered to myself if he had gone mad or something. Thinking of hot holidays in Tenerife. He matter of factly told me it was for her to hold in the coffin. I think I missed a breath and had to hold myself from doubling up from the emotion of it all. Service resumed within seconds. That possibly began my very bad day yesterday. I sobbed and sobbed all the way home later that day. But I am not crying for my mother and do not know why I am crying.
As for the book, I texted the details to my darling Mr Doris and within minutes he had located a good copy, purchased it and it is in the first class post. My dad was really delighted.