My Mom

I haven’t really discussed this openly at all, but my family has been going through a terrible time over the course of the year.

Back in January I got a call from my Dad from across the world. The worst possible nightmare scenario had happened while my parents were on a cruise in Australia. My Mother had taken a fall while getting out of bed, and had hit her head badly. She had to be life flighted from the hotel they were staying at to a hospital nearly an hour away. She would be rushed to surgery to relieve a massive amount of bleeding on her brain. My Mom remained in a coma for a couple weeks before awaking. And by awaking, I mean that she was opening her eyes, and giving basic responses. The doctors remained somewhat upbeat, but were cautious that it would take time before we would know how well Mom would pull through. A special medical flight had to be arranged to at least get my parents back stateside. In total they were in Australia for 6 additional weeks.

It is surreal knowing that you have a loved one suffering on the other side of the planet. In situations like this there is nothing you can do, but there is even less to do if you can’t physically be there. The time change made it even harder to speak to my Dad or the doctors, or staff.

Upon finally making back to the Cleveland area Mom was moved to a nursing facility. She would begin a course of physical therapy that would hopefully begin to trigger brain functions and get her back to a point that she would no longer need to rely on the breathing and feeding tubes. The doctors remained cautious, and continued to advise that it would take time before we would see signs of progress.

What was known at this point was that the fall wasn’t a random event. Several of us had noted that Mom had been struggling for quite some time. She was having trouble finishing thoughts. She often trailed off mid-sentence when talking to her. She was also having a little trouble getting around. The doctors theorized that while the fall had done a great deal of damage there was something else that had triggered it.

I’m not afraid to confess that I was terrified of going to see Mom the first time. Hearing about the bad news was bad enough but experiencing it was something I dreaded. As prepared as I thought I was, it was still painful to see her lying there in the state she was in. My Mom looked as if she had aged 20 years. She was frail and colorless, and the because of the surgery she was missing half of hair. Dad had informed me that most of the time Mom was in a sleeping state. She did awaken while I was there. She gazed at me with a thousand foot stare. I’ve struggled with this stare ever since, because it was so void of expression. It only lasted a few minutes and she returned to her sleep. I tried so hard to keep talking to her, as if nothing was really wrong. One never really stops to think about how hard it is to fill minutes of a one-sided conversation. A doctor came in to check on her. He was cautious in his words, and advised that it would take time before we might see any sign of progress.

The problem is that Mom wasn’t showing signs of progress. If anything she was taken several steps back. At one point she was communicating by nods and reacting to people. Now she is not. Dad had noticed several weeks ago that she was no longer being taken to physical therapy. He was told basically that she just wasn’t responding and therefore they had stopped. For reasons I’m still not clear she was also rushed to the main hospital for several days. The nursing staff have noted that she was not the same upon her return. My Brother Chris and his wife had flown in over Memorial Day weekend from Texas. He was able to take some time and finally sit down with my Dad and the the doctors to discuss what the future is.

Time has passed and the reality is that Mom is not going to get better.

Mom was most likely suffering from a type of Hydrocephalus, which is a condition in which there is too much spinal fluid in the ventricles. This occurs when the natural system for draining and absorbing extra spinal fluid does not work right. The ventricles enlarge to accommodate the extra fluid and then press on different parts of the brain, causing a number of different symptoms including loss of cognitive functions and physical stability. This is what most likely caused the fall. The brain trauma cause by the fall is what caused the coma, and continued vegetative state. According to the doctor my Brother and Father spoke to, the chances were only about 10% that Mom would recover really any normal functioning again.

For now, this is the new normal. My Mother is alive but she is hardly living. The Doctor is using terms like “doing what is best to keep her comfortable.” You don’t need to read into that too far to understand what that means.

I ache for my father who was not only physically stranded in a foreign country, but he is now all but personally stranded. My parents have never been openly social people. They have friends, but they have largely existed for and with each other. My Father is only 10 years removed from losing his parents, and now he has all but lost his wife. He is not one to express feelings, but the grief has been palpable at times. We’re so terrible to him all the time about the surface level strengths he lacks, but his true character strength comes in the form of the gentle and kind man who has hardly left her side through this.

I ache for my girls. My oldest is at least old enough to have a memory of her, but my youngest will never really know one of her Grandmas. My dear Mia is just starting to figure out the fragility of life, and her empathy is stronger now than it may ever will be. She knows Grandma is in the hospital, but I have no way of expressing to her that she may never see her again. I don’t want her last memory of her loving Grandma to be of the frail unresponsive person in that hospital bed. Mom wanted grandchildren so badly. I had them so late in my life, it just isn’t fair that neither got to enjoy each other more.

And I’m just aching. I don’t really know how to process this all. I’m guilty that so much more in my life is happening that is completely meaningless. I feel I should do more, but yet there is nothing more I can do. I feel frozen in indecision. I spent this past weekend archiving photos that have been sitting on the craft table for nearly ten years. Each year of them all anchored by Christmas, which I was blessed to have all but one spent with my Mother. We used to give her such grief about how grumpy she could get around the Holidays. It is terrible of me to just now notice how beaming her smile is with all her children present.

I need no doctor to inform me of this - in the end, I guess it is going to take time...