It's Hard to know that My Mom's Dying and I can't be with Her

This is, essentially, a journal entry. If you read it, skim the messy parts.

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Here's the text of a message I sent to a cousin who's concerned about how my mom is doing. I sent it last evening, at the end of an eventful day:


She seems to be generally declining. 

She's been having seizures, which are becoming more frequent. 

She's becoming weaker, but still can walk, though she has fallen. 

Her dementia seems also to be increasing. 

None of us have spoken to her because she doesn't answer the phone. 

The home's trying to move her to a higher level of care but the fact that she is COVID positive is making that difficult. 

Nothing good.


And, that's not the whole story. Mom's stopped eating and can't take pills safely. At one point during the day, a nurse found mom in her bathroom, passed out and covered in feces. In an energetic moment, fogetting that she's not supposed to leave her room, mom left her room and then couldn't remember which room is her's, even though the entry is decorated with old family memorabilia.

It was a bad day but I didn't realize how bad it was until I read over the message I sent to Karen.

We'd called mom to talk to her. She doesn't answer the phone. That's probably an Alzheimer's thing. Very probably, she no longer comprehends the functioning of a telephone. That happened to dad near the end.

We called the nurses station several times and got updates. The nurses called us at least once. The nurse practitioner called with a detailed update. And, someone from the home called to report that 11 new cases of COVID-19 were identified...in one day. (The home down there is being hit hard but they are being very transparent.)

So we picked up the information in small pieces.

Obviously, mom's dying.

It's absolutely breaking my heart that I can't be with her to comfort her.

In my mind, when I thought about the time mom would die, I expected to be some comfort to her...

...because, since I shaved my head, I'm a dead ringer for my dad, who was bald since he was in his 30s...and my voice sounds exactly like his.

I expected that my presence would bring dad to mind for mom, but I'm not there.

She's alone. At this point, because the Alzheimer's has advanced so far, I don't think she realizes she's alone. Without us being there, I imagine that she doesn't remember any of us.

And, it's absolutely heartbreaking for my brother, his wife and Evie and me.

There is comfort in knowing that she's in competent and caring hands.

I think mom and dad moved into Independent Living in 2006. It's been a good experience for them and we trust the home to do their best for mom, but that's small comfort in the face of all of this sorrow.

As I've said, mom's loved the Lord since I was born and there's that. But, I think that that won't be much comfort until the suffering is over...

...hopefully soon.