Saying Goodbye and Mending a Broken Heart

Saying Goodbye

I haven’t written for a while, I haven’t had the energy for research, or for much else. I’m starting to feel a little more myself these days, starting to remember who I am. Healing after the loss of a parent comes in stages as you process emotions.

2017 started with an invitation to my mother’s 80th birthday party. The surprise party was a big deal since none of my siblings were able to coordinate a visit for some time. We had a fabulous day, Mom was happy to see all her friends and family together. Little did we know, this was her last birthday.

Within weeks of her birthday, she would be admitted to the hospital for congestive heart and renal failure.

Released into our care; my sister and I split our days helping as mom regained her health. I lived with mom for 6 weeks guiding her toward independence. My sister, who lives next door to Mom, continued checking on her with daily visits as she had been. Slowly Mom regained her strength, managing her self-care well, and she was off on her own.

I mean literally she was off on her own. We drove her to appointments and to her camp due to her lack of strength.  One morning she waited until I went for my morning walk and sprung into action, she needed to get herself into the car before I returned, no easy feat.

Her return to better health had a lot to do with convalescing at home. Her hospital care was excellent, her discharge instructions were practically non existent. Newly diagnosed medical condition care was handed to her in a small folder with a brief explanations illustrated with toddler level artwork. When asked about managing her three conditions together, I was met with blank stares. No mention of nutrition or exercise limitations, nothing about managing all her medical conditions together.  Her GP wasn’t much better; entering the room 20 minutes late without reading her chart. My mother was 80 years old, she shouldn’t be the source of information regarding her recent hospitalization. We shouldn’t need to correct the GP regarding the medications and dosage information.

Within six months, everything would change.

We were preparing for my mother’s extended visit with ADA bathroom renovations and an adjustable bed. I devoted my time to learn about her conditions and her care requirements. Our house was perfect for someone with mobility issues as we have few stairs. We live 45 miles from my mother’s home but our local hospital is one of the top in the state. I expanded on my personal trainer and nutrition coaching certification to include health coaching. Health coaches aid in the home care and help with patients medical discharge care instructions, I was ready.

The call came in February, my mother would spend the next month mostly in the hospital suffering from complications from each of her conflicting conditions. Years of medications to manage blood pressure and diabetes took a toll on her kidneys; fluids built up in her system further congesting her heart. While in the hospital,  they stopped medication to clear fluids from her system to add  blood volume to her vascular system; this contradicting her heart condition.

We never expected that our vibrant mother would pass so quickly. I’ll always wish for the opportunity to say all the things I wanted to say but never felt like the time was right.

 

My last conversations with my mother were about her loneliness. She lost her husband over 25 years ago, her closest friend and her two sisters had all passed recently. Her children and grandchildren were grown and gone, spending as much time as they could with her. She loved that there were two new great-grandchildren in her life to enjoy on Facebook.

We often talked about our careers in medical care and how winter, depression, and loneliness impacts longevity in the elderly. I didn’t realize at the time that I was talking about her future. I didn’t see her as elderly, I only saw her as my vibrant mother who had so much energy for life, my best friend who I spent hours with enjoying our time together. She was eighty and still wanting to pass on life lessons to her child and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

I did record a few of our long phone conversations, I’ll be able to listen to her voice. I tried to listen a few weeks ago but wasn’t ready, the reality of losing her came rushing back in a flood of tears.