Baby steps

I have a ton of different blog ideas roaming my brain but the urge to put them down just isn't there at the moment. I'm hoping the ideas stay until the desire to blog returns. If not then perhaps others will fill the vacuum.

I'm not certain how much of this apathy is the turmoil of the last 6 months and how much is the fact that my favorite blogging platform just isn't available at the moment. For those who know Harold, you remember he isn't fond of angst and being the picky muse he is, he decamps when I'm feeling emotionally out of sorts. For those who know Yahoo 360, well you know that it is all but dead in the water at the moment. Perhaps the new platform will renew a spark.

Baby steps: I think I have most of the paperwork surrounding Mom's estate taken care of save for a possible life insurance policy. Fortunately it was more simple in ways that I had assumed it would be. The years of contributing increasing amounts to Mother's expenses (as well as providing room and board gratis) is not without a tiny reward. Something about providing funeral home expenses being a tier 1 expense --- which translates to we pay ourselves first. Sadly there's not even enough to do that. Then again, I didn't step up for possible reward. It's just what you do.

We're also doing the slow conversion of 'her' room into the garb room. Don't get me wrong, Mom will still have her place on her dresser but I'll be moving the renfaire things from the other room to 'hers'. That will free my guest bedroom. Now to attempt to find a donation place to come get her things and hold her faire items for the MS Prepare for Faire sale. Bulk pickup is today.

Baby steps.

There is a blog in here somewhere about what it's like to be an empty nester for the first time in my life; to have a string of days where I don't have to check in on someone, where I don't have to bank sick days for another's potential illnesses. Perhaps another day.

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the photo above is of The Wharf Rat in Fells Point (Baltimore) taken during the Pirate Invasion/Privateer Day this year. A good friend of mine held a toast to Granny here. As The Wild Granny was Keeper Of The Rum, we had a rum toast. She would've approved.

The mist of dreams

or perhaps in the midst of dreams?

In coming to grips with my mother's passing, I find at times I'm coping so much better than expected and at other times not coping at all.

Yes it's difficult to write that even now.

For the first week I felt so very fragile that Jon was basically concerned about leaving me alone for more than a few moments. It was a new feeling to me. Fragile. I'm never fragile nor have I ever been.

Thankfully that feeling has passed.

In its wake though are the strangest forms of dreams. Most revolve around me having to convince my mother she truly is dead. Her reply is always the same "Stephanie you are so full of shit your eyes should've been brown." Tacky tacky but a favorite phrase she used to use on me when I was a child. So I tell her repeatedly that no I held her hand while she slipped away and I watched her stop breathing and I even checked her carotid pulse to see if/when it stopped. At that point she always (in my dream) tells me "You just don't know what you're talking about." (said quite sarcastically - again another favorite of hers). So I argue with her and finally tell her she's in a box on her dresser in her room and I'll just take her in there to show her.

And -- in the dream -- I do. And when I see the box her reflection in the mirror is gone.

Then I wake up.

They're not quite as startling as one would think -- especially from a veteran of nightmares and night terrors. Typically one would also think that this means she's still roaming about ... I don't think so.

I think this is really *me* trying to convince myself she's gone. For one thing most of the sarcasm wasn't directed at me at the last --- she was quite frightened and I was literally her life preserver. That meant she tempered her temper with me. Also the Mom of my dreams is the visage from about 3 years ago ... right about the time she moved out here. Back when she was vibrant and full of life.

Maybe I want so very badly to remember that time that my dreamworld is reminding me it's not the case.

Maybe I'm just not quite ready to let go - even though I know I should, even though I know it's time, even though I know she is finally at peace.

the photo above was taken spring of 2006 from the Clipper City Clipper Ship cruise Jon and I took. It's of the lights in Baltimore Inner Harbor as we returned back. Mom didn't go on that cruise because she was afraid of being that long without extra oxygen and by the time the next one came around she was too ill to go anymore.

The long night's journey into day

It is amazing the changes that just a few days can make in your life.

Mom passed away yesterday afternoon. She had appeared to be making a rally attempt last weekend and was able to talk (instead of being hoarse ala laryngitis) and was pretty critical of life -- in other words rather like her normal self. Monday night I noticed she was pretty weak and shakey but still a bit demanding so I wasn't that concerned. I figured she was just very tired -- she was also on some new medications.

Then late Monday night she was sent to the hospital in respiratory distress. She wasn't conscious or responding really. Due to her advance directives she wasn't supposed to be intubated but that information wasn't available to the emergency physicians -- at first anyway.

I will say as soon as they realized they asked what I wanted done. Since she wasn't conscious so I couldn't ask her, I went with what we'd discussed the week before and what her papers said ... no extraordinary means.

They removed the intubator and just put her on 15 litres of O2 (via rebreather mask) and IV (in case she needed pain meds ), and placed her in the hospice room upstairs. It's a nice quiet private room with comfy sofas and chairs and no monitors. A nice room -- except for the reason for it that is.

Jon and I were there when she began the long journey that night and we were there when it ended yesterday afternoon.

I know it's actually a blessing this has went all so very fast -- only 3 weeks really -- from the original ambulance call late on a Wednesday night 3 weeks ago to the dismissal from the hospital to the rehab hospital 1 1/2 weeks ago to her death yesterday. We only found out about the lung cancer last week. She was due to have an oncology appointment next Tuesday when we'd discuss hospice and palliative care options. We were still working on paperwork.

I know it's a blessing in my head -- realli I do. My heart just knows she's gone.

*****

***the photo above was taken in February 2006. Mom loved the snow and would take pictures and pictures of it (though this picture is mine -- she preferred the non digital method). Earlier this week I noticed a few spring flowers trying to peek through the cold ground and I realized Mom would probably never see the spring. Sadly I was right.