bstratt
Cleared for Takeoff
Just got back from a week's "vacation" where I spent two days with my Mom who is in palliative care in Toronto. Palliative care is similar to a hospice in the USA - their job is not to prolong life but ease the "passing".
By way of background, my Mom sufferred from ITP in the 1979-1981 time frame. Part of the treatment in those days (since discredited) was regular platelet transfusions. Mom was one of the lucky ones who survived at that time (less than 50% survived in those days) but the transfusions gave her Hepatitis C. Hep C is a "stealth" like disease where as long as the remaining functioning part of the liver can counteract the damaged part you wouldn't know there was anything wrong with her at all, however the Hep C is continually destroying the liver. There comes a day when there is insufficient "good" liver left to counteract the damaged portion. That day came the week before Christmas in 2007. Suddenly, overnight Mom went into hepatic encephalopathy - similar to a stroke - disorientation, tired, dementia, difficulty talking, cannot use fine motor skills such as feeding yourself, etc. The doctors decided she was too old (79) and weak to survive liver replacement, and the remaining portion of good liver could never survive an anti-Hep C drug treatment. They basically told us she was going to steadily deteriorate and die over the next 2-5 years, but that she would "bounce back (and be Mom again) for a few weeks followed by another cycle down. Each time she would not come fully back. My Dad (also 79) has cared for her at home up until three weeks ago when it became obvious he no longer could. She had a very serious down turn (coma) and they had to rush her to the hospital, where she bounced back but the doctors advised against taking her home again. The decision was made to put her in palliative care which she entered two weeks ago. The good news - There is absolutely no pain and on her good days she is lucid and can carry on a conversation. The bad news - she is lucid and understands everything that is happening to her as well as her prognosis. The next time she "down turns" they will give her no treatment. She has signed a DNR.
My Dad is having a tough time with it - they grew up together in the same outport village, were in the same grade in a one room school house, dated after high school and eventually got married - in other words they have been part of each other's lives their whole lives. My Dad smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes every day of his working life (quit the day he retired at 57), was always over weight, never exercised and enjoyed a drink - he just had a physical and is as healthy as a horse. My Mom never touched alcohol or tobacco, and kept in shape. Dad says its not fair that she's going first.
When my first wife died, my Mom moved in and took over raising my son (5 yrs old) for a couple of years while I pulled things together. She said that was why God spared her when she had ITP, so she could look after my son. I'm having a hard time with it too!
I'm very much afraid that I saw her for the last time this morning!
Sorry for the rambling post, but I just had to put it in writing.
By way of background, my Mom sufferred from ITP in the 1979-1981 time frame. Part of the treatment in those days (since discredited) was regular platelet transfusions. Mom was one of the lucky ones who survived at that time (less than 50% survived in those days) but the transfusions gave her Hepatitis C. Hep C is a "stealth" like disease where as long as the remaining functioning part of the liver can counteract the damaged part you wouldn't know there was anything wrong with her at all, however the Hep C is continually destroying the liver. There comes a day when there is insufficient "good" liver left to counteract the damaged portion. That day came the week before Christmas in 2007. Suddenly, overnight Mom went into hepatic encephalopathy - similar to a stroke - disorientation, tired, dementia, difficulty talking, cannot use fine motor skills such as feeding yourself, etc. The doctors decided she was too old (79) and weak to survive liver replacement, and the remaining portion of good liver could never survive an anti-Hep C drug treatment. They basically told us she was going to steadily deteriorate and die over the next 2-5 years, but that she would "bounce back (and be Mom again) for a few weeks followed by another cycle down. Each time she would not come fully back. My Dad (also 79) has cared for her at home up until three weeks ago when it became obvious he no longer could. She had a very serious down turn (coma) and they had to rush her to the hospital, where she bounced back but the doctors advised against taking her home again. The decision was made to put her in palliative care which she entered two weeks ago. The good news - There is absolutely no pain and on her good days she is lucid and can carry on a conversation. The bad news - she is lucid and understands everything that is happening to her as well as her prognosis. The next time she "down turns" they will give her no treatment. She has signed a DNR.
My Dad is having a tough time with it - they grew up together in the same outport village, were in the same grade in a one room school house, dated after high school and eventually got married - in other words they have been part of each other's lives their whole lives. My Dad smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes every day of his working life (quit the day he retired at 57), was always over weight, never exercised and enjoyed a drink - he just had a physical and is as healthy as a horse. My Mom never touched alcohol or tobacco, and kept in shape. Dad says its not fair that she's going first.
When my first wife died, my Mom moved in and took over raising my son (5 yrs old) for a couple of years while I pulled things together. She said that was why God spared her when she had ITP, so she could look after my son. I'm having a hard time with it too!
I'm very much afraid that I saw her for the last time this morning!
Sorry for the rambling post, but I just had to put it in writing.
The happier moments are like precious treasures that I guard diligently, but even thinking of her when she was angry brightens my day.