ciroccoj | writing it out

It's weird - I've had all sorts of things to write about in the last few days, but I haven't written them. Because there's this overhanging thing that I don't really want to think about, because there's not much I can do about it. Or rather, I'm already doing all I can about it, and that's not much.

Chris and I had another pointless fight last night, and it wasn't irrelevant and it wasn't resolved but it'll be (mostly) OK because of our new skills re. working things out, which we've gained after over a year of marital therapy.

And Ingrid and I spent the afternoon together with the kids, and reminisced about our families, talked about our moms, talked about our kids, and had a great walk. And Daniel and Justin did and said a bunch of cute/annoying/clever/interesting things. Among them, the following, after a rough game got too rough:

Daniel: I'm very sorry I hurt you, Justin.
Justin: How about 'I'm terribly sorry I hurt you?'
Daniel: I'm terribly sorry I hurt you, Justin.
Justin: Well... I'm still mad at you, but I forgive you.

And Karen and Scott babysat the boys for a few hours, and we chatted after I came back from my mom's house.

And all of that's relevant, but it's not. Because my mother is getting worse every day, and I'm beginning to actively hope she'll go soon, because this isn't living any more.

She's not waking up at all any more. Barely opened her eyes yesterday, didn't open them at all today. She smiled a few times yesterday, when Justin stroked her face and Daniel spoke near her, but now there's nothing. She mostly stopped speaking Spanish a few days ago, came down to single words (both English and Spanish) yesterday, and I think I only heard her say two words today. We've been trying English and Spanish and even French to talk to her, since she switches understanding, but now I don't think she understands anything at all.

She hasn't eaten in days - the only thing she's had in the last two days have been a couple of glasses of water, through a straw.

She semi-wakes up every so often, and seems to be in pain when she does. The doctor assures us it's just mild irritation and that in her confused state she can't do more than moan, but it sounds like she's in pain, despite the painkillers she's on.

Her breathing has changed. 3-5 long deep breaths, followed by up to 25 seconds of nothing, because she's too tired to keep breathing. I had noticed it and remembered the doctor had said this would happen, and when the doctor came, she confirmed it. She also confirmed that her pulse is elevated, which we'd also been told to expect.

I don't know how much longer this is supposed to go on. And I wish I knew what my mother would've wanted us to do. She often talked about how she never wanted to be kept alive if she was a burden and no longer herself - ie, Alzheimer's. I know what she would have wanted in that situation. But this never came up - where she's no longer herself, but isn't raving, and she's not a burden because it just hasn't been that long. And she won't be like this very much longer. In terms of the strain on us, her caregivers... it's not that this is no problem, because it is very painful for all of us to watch, but it's not like all our lives are falling apart because of her. She's not a burden on anyone.

The other thing is, there's no medical heroics going on. She's not being kept alive by countless machines and the marvels of modern medicine. She's just being given medication to ease her pain and being monitored by family and professionals who have no intention of keeping her alive longer than her body can function on its own. The end will come soon.

But I can't help thinking that I wouldn't want to be kept alive until my body broke down completely on its own. If there was a chance I might recover, I would want that chance, but if there was no hope, I would not want to linger unconscious for days, gradually getting weaker and weaker until the end. I would want somebody to administer a bit too much pain meds or something.

But that's me. I don't know for sure what she would have wanted. And it seems that Guy and my aunt Gilda and my cousin want to keep her alive as long as possible, as long as she's not actively suffering, and I can't say for sure that they're wrong in wanting that. So I just try to be there and hold her hand while she sleeps, and try to help her when she wakes up with discomfort, and hope that we're doing the right thing.

And now I'm going to bed.