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Mom and I followed a great daily schedule, and god bless her, she slept through the night, which meant I slept too. Was every day peachy, no. We had our arguments. When she developed a pressure ulcer during her hip surgery "rehab" at a local nursing home, I made it clear to the staff it was unacceptable. When she left there, I vowed I would do my best to never put her back there again. At least twice a day, I would put Calmoseptine on her behind to make sure she would not get a pressure ulcer under my watch. She was incontinent, so three times a day, I would help her change her pull-ups. I once asked her, Mom do you mind that I clean your behind. She replied, "Not at all."
Once a month, I took her to get her hair done, which was therapy for me and her. After, I would take a short video to ask her how she felt. The last one I took was two weeks before her death, so I can hear her voice and see that smile any time I want. She had a history of TIA's (mini-strokes), so I had to deal with the threat of that every day. Luckily, she could feed herself, so all I had to do was to ensure she had three good meals daily. She used a walker, and in her final year, she became more uneasy, so I would follow her with the wheelchair as she walked around the house. Always made sure she moved to another location every couple of hours to avoid the pressure ulcer issue. She rarely complained.
The day before she passed, she was not acting right. Very agitated. Called the ambulance to take her to the emergency room. She was diagnosed with a severe UTI. Dr. on call said she needed to stay overnight for treatment. Mom was not pleased and wanted to go home. I calmly told her the doctors were giving her medication to help her feel better, and I would be back in the morning and take her home then. That was the last time I spoke to her. I got the call early the next morning her condition had worsened. I rushed to her bedside and she was unconscious, but breathing on her own. I later found out after reviewing the notes written by the ER staff that Mom was very restless during the overnight hours when I was not there. My biggest regret was I did not stay with her during that period. I was with her all the time, except then. It might not have changed the outcome, but it will always trigger the "what if" thoughts.
She lived for a few more hours, so I held her hand, sang some songs, thanked her, and kissed her as slipped away. I was proud I was able to keep her in the home she and my Dad purchased decades ago, and honored I was with her as she completed the journey to the sunset of her life. I kept her clean, well-fed, warm, and comfortable. Everyone involved in her medical care has told me what a wonderful job I did as her cargiver. I am now on my own journey to find employment in my late 50's.
Being a caregiver is an emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting job. The hardest job I've ever had. Only those that have been one can truly understand how draining, but in some cases, like mine, how rewarding it can be. I miss my Mom, but I know I did my best, and the wonderful memories I have of her will hopefully help me overcome my feelings of sadness.
So sorry for your loss 🙏🏼
You’re lucky you didn’t have a mother with dementia..it makes if much more difficult. It wouldn’t have been just one day of agitation…but many with just as many sleepless nights. Many times my mother hits, punched, scratched, threw mouthwash in my eyes. Not to mention her occasional hallucinations that her room is on fire 🔥 & she’ll try to escape the bed.
Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Good luck in finding employment. Hugs 🤗
One thing that helped was my faith and knowing my mom was a woman of strong faith as well. I knew she was escaping a sick, frail state of being and that helped.
Allow your mind to go where it goes. Pray if you are a person of faith. I wish you all the best.
What I did learn decades ago, however, was to greatly reduce my fear of death. By doing that, I made it easier to live my LIFE and to accept the fact that death happens to people I love (including myself) and that I could accept it more easily rather than fight it so furiously. I found acceptance through reading a lot (a LOT) of books about near death experiences. Two of my all time favorites are Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife by Dr. Eben Alexander. And the other one is To Heaven and Back: A Doctor's Extraordinary Account of Her Death, Heaven, Angels, and Life Again: A True Story, by Mary Neal, M.D. Both books were heart-warming and amazing accounts that may also help you to release some of the fear & sadness you have about losing your dad. You can find them on Amazon or used on eBay.
I lost both of my parents so I know how difficult it can be to witness the end of life process. There's not much you can 'do' except to sit with your dad and hold his hand, remind him of how much you love him, and how important he's been to you, and how big a stamp he's left on this Earth. Tell him it's okay to let go when he's nearing the end of this leg of his journey, and that you'll be fine, thanks to all he's taught you. That you are a strong woman because of him.
Sending you a hug and a prayer for peace.
It happens to all of us -- the beginning of life, the middle where you are, and the end where your dad is. We are all born, and we all die. Those who are left behind are saddened by it, but life continues.
No one's life is upbeat and happy all the time. There are ups and there are downs, and some ups are way up, and some downs are way down. This is one of those times, and you need to continue to live through it and you WILL live through it.
You need to stop looking for a cure for a natural feeling, accept that you'll be sad, and embrace the literal circle of life.
In the meantime, give your father a kiss, smile, hold his hand . . .tell him he dod a good job raising you to be a loving daughter who will manage her life well. look for momentary joys to share. Don't worry if you are not having "normal," lengthy conversations. He will be comforted that you are there sharing space and time with him.
My mother at 91 is in SN. She has a very serious bedsore that I have been told by an infectious disease doctor can never heal. She cannot walk or stand due to a previous septic infection. She was dropped by an aide ( immediately fired ) and both her femurs were broken. This brought on the bedsore which is treated daily but very severe.
It is very sad each time I visit her. There are many residents in better physical condition but far more mentally gone than my mother. She keeps asking when the bedsore will heal. I dance around the issue. She does not recall the conversation we had right after the visit with the doctor.
If you could find some form of exercise for yourself that may give you some positive feelings. It would be best if it were a class or appointment outside of your house therefore being a commitment you need to follow through with. I do this myself and I know I feel better after.
We can't change the reality of a loved one's terminal diagnosis. When I visit my mother I bring her a Starbucks drink and some reading material. That brings her pleasure.
I lost my father at 82. His final days while very serious did not linger too long. I still miss him. I just have to accept that his end was indeed a reality and there was not prolonged suffering.
What you can do is hold your dad's hand.
Tell him that you love him. (even if he can not hear you he can see it in your eyes, your smile and even through your tears)
Thank him. Thank him for being the parent that he has been. Obviously he was a good dad or you would not be feeling the way you are. (and not everyone is that lucky, just read some of the posts on this site)
Tell him you will miss him but that you will be alright. And you will be. It may take time, it will always hurt but it will go from a sharp hurt to a dull ache in time. It's like when you get a deep cut that needs stitches. You heal but there is a scar, for a while the scar is red and can sometimes hurt but that fades and you are left with a scar that most of the time you do not notice but once in a while you get a glimpse of it and you remember the hurt.
The "medication" is TIME. And MEMORIES.
Talk to people and family about things you did, where you went, things he did, favorite foods. Keeping the memories alive are important.
I Volunteer with a Veterans group and there is a saying.
"A soldier dies twice: Once wherever he takes his last breath; and he dies again when he's forgotten." It is the same with any loved one. Keep his name alive and he will always be with you.
((hugs))
Maybe try to focus on one day at a time instead of what's in store for the future?
Enjoy this time with your dad as much as you can. Enjoy and relish the little things like him recognizing you and giving you a smile. These are things you will remember.
I'm here if you need someone to talk to. I understand completely.
I wish that there was some way to avoid grief and sadness, but there just isn't. We have to wade through it, but staying busy like you're doing is going be the most help - that and prayer. Blessings.
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