Part Two
The week of September 2, my mother was wheezing. I heard her over the phone. I heard her when I was there. Respiratory therapy at the nursing home told her she was fine. On September 3, they did a chest x-ray. According to the radiologist, she was in the beginning stages of pneumonia. This was an all too common condition in the elderly who have lead a sedantary lifestyle prior to such an incident as fracturing a hip.

They, the nursing home, started my mother on a preventative antiobiotic. They hoped this would head off a full fledged confrontation with pneumonia.

My mother developed chest pain and was having extremely labored breathing. I spoke to her on the phone on Saturday, September 7. She sounded horrible. She was depressed and sad and scared. She called me back about an hour after we hung up and said they were taking her to the hospital. I asked why. She said that a second chest x-ray had been performed on September 5, Thursday. This x-ray showed that she had full fledged pneumonia. The nursing home's policy was that patients with such a diagnosis must be treated at a hospital.

My mother was on lasix and had been for several years. This was to reduce her fluid retention caused by some of her other medications. She refused to take lasix in the nursing home because she did not have a foley catheter in. She was still non-weight bearing on her left leg because of slow bone regeneration. This was due in part to osteroporosis and her general physical condition prior to the fracture.

Back to the hospital the night of September 7. My mother was angry and belligerent toward me. She cursed at me and told me to get the##!&*@&!! bedpan out from underneath her. She was having a muscle spasm at the time. I had had enough. My youngest son was sick and wanted nothing to do with daddy. My older son was out of sorts because mommy wasn't there to tuck him in. I told her I was leaving and that I would check on her later. I then told the desk and the nurses that I was going home. I called during one of my early morning feedings for my youngest son. I found out her room.

She had her foley. She was on lasix. She was on antibiotics via a heplock. She was on oxygen. She was miserable and even angrier. She was very clear and very lucid.

They discharged her on Thursday, September 12. I went to see her at the nursing home that day and to return her valuables. She was coherent and there were no signs of confusion.

On Monday, September 16 I got a call from the nursing home. They said that my mother had been found unresponsive with her oxygen off in her wheel chair. They were taking her back to the hospital. My husband had just left on a business trip for two weeks overseas. I dropped my kids at my in-laws. Upon arriving at the hospital, she was non verbal. She responded only to pain. I helped change a foley on her and her vaginal area was infected. This was a risk and we all knew that. She tried to talk but could not form words. I asked her if she had taken the oxygen off on purpose. She said yes first and then said no. She claimed someone else had done it. I had battled with her for several days trying to convince her to leave her oxygen on. I suspect she took it off on purpose. I would later find out that the nursing home suspected that she had had a stroke, a cerebral vascular accident. The doctor assigned to my mother's case, the one who had treated her only a week before, claimed he had never seen my mother. The caseworker assigned to my mother accused me of using the hospital as a crutch for my mom. She said that since my mom was a DNR patient that we should not have brought her there.

A big stink came about when it was learned that the reason for everyone's agitation was that medicare was hesitant to pay on a patient who is re-admitted to a facility within 7 days after being discharged with the same diagnosis. Yes, this time my mother was full of pneumonia. She was also septic. Her white count was 22,000. A normal white count is between 5,000 and 10,000. They admitted her and she was non-verbal for the first 36 hours. She could respond to the command to open her eyes. At the end of the first 36 hours, she could talk but her speech was slurred. Having been with her through three previous strokes, I suspected the nursing home was right and that she did indeed stroke again. The doctor assigned to her case said it was not his concern. Here we go again with the antibiotics. She got clearance this week to become weight bearing on her left side. The doctor released her on Thursday, September 19.

I took her things back to the nursing home. She was unresponsive. In the hospital she was very confused and had lost the last 10 weeks. She thought that she had been to Tulsa and back and was in the hospital for an experiment.

On September 19, she did not speak to me except for one time. Her eyes flew open and she tried to enunciate the word hot. I turned on her fan for her and folded back her bedspread. She was gone again. She did squeeze my hand twice in response to two questions. I asked her if she knew where she was. I asked her if she loved me. I told her if the answers were yes that she should squeeze myhand. She did. I then asked her if she knew that I was trying to do everything in my power for her. She remained unresponsive.

I left. Friday, September 20, I got a call that my mother was being rushed to a different hospital this time because her pro-time was high and her oxygen sats were low. I met the ambulance there. My in-laws took my kids. She was verbal and told me that the thing that bothered her was the fact that everyone kept telling her not to worry. They would allegedly tell her that Claudia loved her, the kids were fine and that Claudia was going to file the will.

This hospital said the nursing home was wrong to send her. They said she was not in a crisis situation. Back we went to the nursing home.

I took my kids out there Saturday, September 21. We were on our way to the mall to have my oldest son's glasses adjusted. I rubbed her legs. I loved on her. I told her how pretty her trees looked. I told her about all the work we had done on her house. I told her my youngest son was ready to crawl. She opened her eyes but never spoke. I told her over and over that I loved her. We were there 20 minutes or so and then we left.

I got the infamous call at 3:30 am, September 23 telling me she was not doing well. The nursing home said the doctor on call wanted to take her to the hospital. The nursing home said it was up to me. I asked for her vitals. I made sure she was not in a panic. I told them to let her be. By this time my husband is still gone. My in-laws are now gone. I can't go up there. I have nobody to leave my kids with in the middle of the night.

The nursing home called at 8:00 am that same day. They said she was not doing well and would not be around much longer. I rushed to drop my kids off some place and drove like a maniac to get there. I even ran stop signs. Speed limits meant nothing. She died at 8:11 am.

I would later learn that she had quit eating that week-end. I believe she knew she was on her way to a better place. I also learned that she did not want me notified on Sunday.

So, why am I so angry? I was lead to believe that my mother simply died in her sleep. Her oxygen sats got extremely low and her circulation began to shut down. Her extremeties became cold and discolored. I believe she began this process on Thursday, September 19.

I finally got the death certificates today after almost two weeks. On the cause of death, I expected to see natural causes. But no, it read cerebral vascular incident. A stroke. I could not get anybody to listen to me for two weeks prior to her death. Everybody would speculate that she had stroked on September 16 but nobody would go on record. Was it her time? I don't know.

What I do know is that two weeks into this will and probate business, I am finding out that nobody gives a damn. I call these people as I must as executor. There is never a kind word but rather almost an accusation that I must realize they will need certified proof of this incident. Why is the world so insensitive? Why does nobody realize the pain that I am in just two weeks after this incident? Why in the hell is there not a system to help those left behind with the beaurocratic red tape? Why do I feel like a salmon swimming up stream? Only to get to my destination and then die. Not really die but have a part of me feel like it is in some state of dormancy. Why do I get angry at a moment's notice? Why when I saw the book The Horse Whisperer did I get sad? I rented my mom that book on tape. The last tape was defective and she never got to find out how it ended. I felt guilty when I saw the book in Wal-Mart for not finding out how it ended for her. Why has my brother chosen to drown his sorrows in a bottle? Why must I always be the strong one?

I realize there are not set answers. Thanks for letting me talk and vent and rant and rave. Your network is a lifesaver for me. It is a catharsis. It is a haven. It is a safe place. God bless you for being there when I needed you and when I still need you.

Thank-you also for your words of kindness and encouragment and of praise. I miss my mother more than mere words on a computer screen could ever convey. I missed her passing by 5 minutes. As I talked more to the employees, I found that my mother had no medical reason to die. She willed herself to do so. I also found out that they had repeatedly asked her if she wanted me called on Sunday, the day before she died. She did not. She would not eat the week-end she died. Her O2 sats just got lower and lower. Her extremeties, which had been cool to the touch since Thursday, began to get cold. They began to discolor late Sunday night. She was simply tired. I have lost a great part of myself.

I got sick within a week of her death. I found myself with no voice and a fever and aches and chills. A trip to the doctor's office found me in tears and I got some help. Besides the antibiotics and the decongestants, I also have a sleep aid and an anti-depressant for 2 weeks. I have to go back then. They had tried valium before but it did nothing to relieve the anxiety that came each evening with darkness.

My brother is reeling from guilt. He is drowning his sorrows and his pains in a bottle of scotch a day. He has shut his family out. It took some doing but I finally realized that he is not my responsibility. He had the opportunity to simply pick up the phone and call my mom. He did not and now the demons in his head are so very powerful and consuming. I am boxing up his things and pictures of him from my mom's house. I am not telling him that I am sending them. What he does with them is his choice.

I will write to the person that you wrote to me about tonight. I feel that I need to reach out to help myself heal. Thank-you for everything. I have a feeling I will need additional pats on the back as I begin the processes of probate, selling her home and disposing of her things. One step at a time, right?

With all my heart,
Claudia
Liv4mtns@gnn.com

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