7.
Even though the residents were unaware of what day it was on any given day, on special days like Valentine’s Day, Mother's and Father’s Day and naturally Christmas Day and New Year's Day, the staff went to great lengths to dolly up the dining room. A special meal always got prepared for the residents, and they got spoilt with cakes, sweets and little gifts. They would know something was different or special that day.
If I asked Mom how she liked the decorations, she would reply, ‘Yes they’re lovely. I told them not to spend too much money, but they just went ahead and broke my budget anyway.’
I would tell her what day it was, and she would say, ‘I know that,’ very indignantly.
Mom stayed alert and fit; her smile never failed to lift my spirits and the sparkle in her eyes when she saw me was worth more than gold. Even the staff members constantly commented on how Mom would light up when she saw me or even when she heard my voice nearby. It was those special moments that kept our bond as mother and daughter tightly knitted together. It kept the nagging thoughts at bay of how much longer I would be blessed to enjoy still the smile in her eyes.
Mom’s appetite slowly decreased, and I found I had to spend my entire lunchtime visit feeding her, and at times that was not even long enough. Due to this, it was decided that Mom would go on a soft diet to help her chew and digest her food more easily. It was successful for a few days, and then it got difficult again. At times, I had to gently persuade her to open her mouth wide enough just to get the spoon into her mouth. One day Mom would co-operate well, and she would have a decent sized meal and the next day it was a fighting match just to get her to eat a few spoonfuls.
I got informed that Mom had developed a cold sore on her bottom lip, and that left me wondering if perhaps she was developing flu. The elderly easily develop bronchitis or pneumonia from a simple cold. The doctor checked Mom the next day, and she was diagnosed with mild flu and given medication. As I had mentioned before when Mom got ill, her brain tendered to shut down, and I was terribly concerned that this would happen again. The nurse kept a vigilant watch over Mom and her vitals. She seemed to be coping and on the mend quicker than expected and without the dreaded coma. That was short-lived, though.
When getting all the residents prepared for breakfast, the nurse found Mom in a worsened state and immediately notified the sister who in turn phoned me. Again the doctor was called in. I insisted that I speak to him once he had examined her. It was late in the afternoon, almost time to leave work for the day, when he called me. I immediately left and went to hear what he had to say. The diagnosis was not good. Mom’s mild flu had worsened and become pneumonia again and with the brain shutting down it was unable to inform the body to produce the antibodies to fight the infection. He was sure there was no way for Mom to turn back from here. I was shattered as I sat next to Mom on her bed watching her breath with difficulty.
She opened her eyes, and I leant in with my face almost touching hers and whispered to her, ‘Mommy, hello, can you hear me?’
She mumbled that she was able to hear me and then something else, but I could not make out what.
All the way home my mind was racing with the events over the past month. What could I have done differently to have prevented this outcome? How much longer would she still be with me? By the time I got home, I was exhausted and terribly emotional.
I am truly blessed to have a family that are so loving, compassionate and supportive and who felt my pain and heartache as much as I did. I phoned my siblings, and as God’s planning would have it, my sister would be in Cape Town on business for the next week. She would get given the chance to say goodbye to her beloved mother.
The next few days and nights, my sister, daughter and I spent as much time as possible at my mother’s bedside, treated with love, compassion and respect by the nursing staff. Several times when I wasn't at her bedside, the home would phone me and ask me to get to Mom immediately as her breathing was so erratic it seemed she would pass on at any second. I would arrive at her bedside and watch as her chest heaved up and down while her mouth gaped open as she battled to get air into her lungs. With each breath, it seemed as though it would be her last. I held her hand and spoke to her, gently stroking her hair and speaking calmly to her through the tears that trickled down my cheeks. I prayed and asked God to take Mom home. Was that wrong of me?
Wednesday morning the twenty-second of May 2013, Mom had to go to the hospital for X-rays. I met Mom and the nurse who accompanied her to the hospital and it was not long when the X-rays were done, and we were with the doctor to discuss the results. The young intern doctor listened to Mom’s heartbeat and chest for a long time. I knew she was prolonging the conversation she would have to have with me. The news she had to give me was written all over her face. I had to make it easier for her.
‘I know what you are going to tell me. I know she only has moments left. Will you send Mom back to the home or are you going to keep her at the hospital?’
She looked at me still uneasy about telling me what I already knew. I felt sorry for her as perhaps this was the first time she had to tell a daughter her mother was leaving soon.
‘I will order a bed, and as soon as one becomes available they can move your mother to the ward.’
I thanked her and went back to the casualty section for the long wait for a bed. Mom’s chest was heaving rapidly, and she made loud gasping sounds as she grappled for air. The nurse had been with Mom since very early in the morning, with nothing to drink or eat, and it was now past lunch. There was a little café at the end of the hospital, so I slipped out to get her a cup of tea. I returned holding her tea and a cup of coffee for myself. The first thing I noticed was that Mom’s bed was missing. My heart fell to the floor – I knew, I just knew she had gone home, and I had not been there with her for her final breath.
The young doctor ushered me to where Mom lay privately in the corner of a little ward. There was no sound, no heaving of her chest, no gasping for air. There was no sound at all, just a peaceful silence with no suffering. Cyanosis had already kicked in, and I could see the blue was already beginning to colour her lips, fingernails and toenails. Her eyes were partially open, but there was no sparkle.
Oh, Mommy! What I wouldn’t do to see that sparkle once more! To see your smile every time you looked up and saw me!
I bent down and kissed her goodbye. Her lifeless skin was cool, and I held her one last time. The urge to shake her, to reinvigorate the life back into her pulsed through me but just in time the doctor put her arm around me and gently persuaded me to withdraw from Mom and leave her in God’s hands.
When I got back to the home, the staff, from the management to the nurses, overflowed with sincere sympathies. I stood by Mom's bed, her empty bed, and strangely thought of how lucky she was to know finally all the answers and to be living with Jesus for eternity. All I took was her Bible, thanked the staff once more for everything they had done, and then I left.