Tuesday, May 22, 2012


"I'm alright".....these were my mothers words this morning right after she had her very first seizure.  She's not been doing so well lately and now this.  Did she know as a child that there would be such awfully hard moments in the years ahead?  I can remember as a child when she would fall due to poor balance as an amputee and the first words out of her mouth, whether true or not, were.."I'm alright."

In the last month, her body seems to be breaking apart.  She is covered in deep gauges from where she scratches her skin open and breaks the blisters which have begun to appear all over,  though no one has a clue why.  Through this all, she smiles and holds my hand close to her lips as she makes a very quiet kissing noise.  She hasn't a clue who I am,  but I know I bring comfort to her by my presence.  She taught me early on to be "alright".  A health scare of my own several weeks ago rendered me fairly silent with friends about what was happening for me.  "Alright" really means "suck it up".  Mom and I have been good with that but really....where does it get us?

At the risk of offending some, horrifying others....I want my mother to pass on.  Her suffering is plain to see.  The only people in the nursing home that talk about treatment and life saving medicines and hospital tests are the nurses.  The other families all look tired and in quiet voices we all agree that it's time.  I was not raised with much religion and can tell you I have even less now.  One need only walk onto an Alzheimer's wing to see the absence of God.

I love this 100 pound wisp of a woman who used to be my mom.  She cannot walk, get up on her own, pee on her own or form a coherent sentence.  It took the nurse 5 tries and 5 large bruises to draw blood from her last week.  She eats pureed food that looks like crap and no longer remembers that she liked chocolate and peanut butter and banana sandwiches.  She remembered her name the other day but only her maiden name.  The part of her life that consisted of a husband and daughter is gone.

She didn't take to religion very much as I said earlier...but she did believe that she would see all her loved ones again someday, somewhere.  She deserves that and for her sake, I hope she gets it.


  1. I know your pain. Please read my new post. It's different from yours but one day it will be very much like yours. I really hope all good things for you today.

    ~ Lizzie

  2. oh, pam. my grandmother had a lovely, compassionate doctor when she was suffering who gave her a last dose of morphine and she went quietly in the night. sometimes we are not alright and it is ok to say it. May you be kind to yourself, may you and your mother be free from suffering, may you and your mother know peace.