My post title comes from my lyrics to “So Real.” Those words describe what I felt waking up in the morning when I was deeply grieving. At this moment, I feel pain from across the world in South Africa.
I continue to share on my blog updates about a mother and her dying daughter.
The mother’s words are unsparing. Some deaths are quiet and peaceful. Her daughter’s death throes are not.
I am very sad for this loving and devoted mother. She has borne her daughter’s suffering from infancy on. Vicky’s life was filled with extreme torment due to her genetic disease and botched surgeries.
When I was involved with grief support groups, my heart broke for those who agonized while watching their child suffer before death. But my heart also broke for those who lost their child without any inkling ahead of time.
Is there really a “good death?” I often think that the suffering is far worse for those left behind than the person who dies.
God, when my time comes please grant me a good death.
Vic is very restless and agitated. Hospice says that at this stage they normally sedate the patients to make the passing easier. It would be a wonderful solution. Vic’s mind is mostly crystal clear and busier than ever. She continuously asks for photos to be taken, not necessarily of herself but of the boys, her friends and family. Last night I actually said to her, “Sweetie, you cannot take your cell phone to heaven with you.”
“Oh…” she said. “Why not? I think I will…” We laughed.
In her desperate attempts to cling to life she is trying to capture images on her phone…I do know that she is imbedding the images on her heart and she will take the images of her loved ones with her.
Last night was very difficult. The Pethidine makes her hyper. She fights sleep at night! Vic is scared she will close her eyes and never open them again.
Vic clung to Danie’s hands when he came to say goodnight. “Don’t leave me Daddy! Please don’t leave me!!! I am so scared!” Poor Danie was totally distraught!
“I am so tired,” Vic cries and seconds later she will try to get out of bed, so she can stay awake!
In the early hours of the morning, I was exhausted when I eventually got inpatient with Vic and told her to get into bed. She looked at me and said “I sometimes think you love me to death but other times I think you hate me…”
I know she is confused at times. I will not allow these words to haunt me later. She “sees” people. She babbles non-stop.
The weight is falling off her. Her trembling fingers are bony, almost skeleton like. Her eyes are sunken and reflect her pain and anguish. My poor baby is starving to death! She has absolutely no appetite. I don’t know when last she was hungry or able to eat.
Jared asked me today why I don’t sedate Vic. I explained to him that she refuses to be sedated. “I think it will be better for Mom to sleep all the time now, Oumie. It is too hard for her now and she is too scared…Ask Sr. Siza to give her some sedation…”
Oh Lord, how do I make this easier for my family? How do I spare the boys the pain of seeing their mother dying bit by bit? Do I send them to their father and have them hate me for it or do I subject them to the horror of what’s happening?
I wish Vic were in a hospital where the decisions weren’t mine. But I promised Vic “no more hospitals.” I will never go back on my word.
I am babbling.
“Sometimes the pain’s too strong to bear…and life gets so hard you just don’t care. You feel so alone you just sit and cry…every second you wish you could die.”
My comment to Tersia:
I don’t even know what to write to you. You are in the depths of hell dealing with the ugliness of death. You carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders and now you can barely breathe. You are dying inside along with your daughter. You are taking on Vic’s pain; you are so worried about her sons and everyone else around her. It is too much! I wish I could think of something to help you. Let the hospice team help you now; relinquish being in charge and let go of taking on responsibility for what is happening. There is no control. Like a car that is about to crash – careening toward impact; you want to brace yourself. Tersia, take a deep breath and close your eyes. Peace is ahead.
© 2013 by Judy Unger and
. Tersia Burger and http://www.tersiaburger.com. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Tags: Caregiving, child's death, death, death of a child, dying, end of life, Friendship, grief, Grief and Bereavement, GRIEF RELATED, Hospice, impending death, inspiration, loss, loss of a child, mother daughter relationship, motherhood, palliative Care, terminal illness, terminally ill, writing