Recently, my 94 year old mother entered Hospice care. She suffered from Kidney Failure and then COVID came calling. She was weakened so that she stopped feeding herself, became incontinent, and became confused and had COVID pneumonia. It is apparently difficult to treat as antibiotics don’t do much to resolve the severity of it.
Mom was on lockdown like a prisoner in the Assisted living facility because they had residents with active cases of Covid 19 for over 4 weeks. It spread quickly because of poor PPE practices, not quarantining early, and workers continued to come to work sick. When we saw her last in early July, she was still able to take her own shower, transfer to and from her wheelchair, and feed, groom, and dress herself. Within a month she was totally dependent and unable to do anything but lie in bed.
Being locked away from her family took it’s toll because she was used to talking to family every day on her phone. Because she had to be moved into a COVID isolation area of the building, and it had little to no phone reception, we were unable to speak to my mother and she was so weak she could not have tolerated a window visit requiring her to sit up.
After she fell and we demanded she be sent to the ER to check her for a broken hip or pelvis, she was direct admitted into Hospice care at an incredible $300 per day just for the room board fee. This did not include nursing care, foods, meds, and equipment.
While other families would be unable to afford this advanced end of life care, our father had assured money would keep coming in form of military pension split and retirement investments, long after his death.
We were able (with special permission) to start visiting to say goodbye after the first week in their care.
Mom, Dot, Dorothy, sister, grandma, great-grandma, sweetheart, friend, aunt, best friend, matriarch; she had those names and so many more.
It was in those final days with her, holding her hand that no longer squeezed back, that I prayed she heard all the words she already knew. We were very close. We had talked for so many years about all the important things in life and even not so important things. I cried every tear for all those in the family who could not bare to be there to see the shell of her sickly body. I helped nurses bath her, change her clothes and talked to her as she had done for me so many times in my life.
Even though the conversations were one sided, I knew she heard. I knew she was ready to see my dad again, dance again, and see many old friends gone for a long time. I lost my best friend, the voice in my head, and the heart that loved me without measure. We never know when our last day will be with those we love. So, if you are reading this, take time now to contact that person. When was the last day I told that person that I care?
sherrystruthtofiction 