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The Twilight Years Are Here

The Twilight Years Are Here

Thursday, May 6, 2010

From Mom's Memorial Service Until Now

We had the memorial service for Mom on Friday April 30, 2010. It was lovely and honored her in such a wonderful way. We chose that date in particular because it would have been her 88th birthday. Following the service we had a birthday party for her at the house. It allowed the family to mix at their own pace. Through the course of the afternoon, several familial rifts were laid aside and a sense of family unity began to emerge.
Dad began to get concerned late that afternoon because we had not “buried” Mom. Richard and I repeatedly explained to him that the “cremains” would be delivered to us sometime in the upcoming week. Once they arrived from the funeral home, we would be able to call Pastor Pete and make arrangements to take her to the Cremation Garden at their church (where they have chosen to be laid to rest).
Another concern of his was what to do with the flowers from the service. There were several beautiful arrangements. One was a large cross made out of at least 100 white roses. It had been sent by, Jerry Jones, the owner of the Dallas Cowboys, and his wife. It was obviously intended to be used graveside. On Saturday morning, I called the church and asked Pastor Pete if he could possibly find a use for it at the church on Sunday. He understood and agreed to pick it up later in the day.

As each day has worn on, Dad has been more concerned about the flowers. He wanted Mom to have them but there was no way to make that possible. He had no sense of closure because the funeral home still had not delivered her “cremains” and he wanted them “buried once and for all”. And he began to fixate on the tiniest details such as, fear that someone would fall off the dock and sue him (the insurance company assured him he was fully insured against that). The air conditioner shouldn’t be run because electricity is too expensive. When his daughter, Susan, would be returning to California, etc.
Lost and alone, he needed something to focus his attention on.

On the morning of May 5th, Dad awoke early. I went upstairs and fixed him some breakfast. His Blood Pressure was a little low (108/57) so I suggested he take it kind of easy for a while. When he was finished eating, I took it again ad it had dropped significantly. He said he was going to sit in his recliner and watch TV. He made his way toward the living room but suddenly reached out a steadying hand toward the chair. In the blink of an eye, he was flat on his back unconscious on the floor. By the time I got to him, he was conscious again and obviously disoriented. After doing a quick assessment, I helped him into his chair.
He sat there for a minute or 2 before he asked me if I could help him to the bathroom. He had soiled himself at some point in the last few minutes and wanted to clean up. I took his BP again and it was lower than before. We very slowly and laboriously made our way to the bathroom. As soon as he was safely inside, I went to retrieve Mom’s walker and placed it right outside the door for him.
When he was finally finished, I rushed forward to help him but he insisted he could make it to the bedroom with the walker. He didn’t make it but a few feet before he again stumbled and fell. This time, he allowed me to get him to the bed. Once he was lying down, I raced to the other room for the BP machine. As I was wrapping it around his left arm I noticed a great deal of fresh blood on his right sleeve. As soon as the machine started it’s reading, I lifted his sleeve to discover a gash near his elbow. Urging him to lie still, I ran to the First Aid closet for supplies.
When I returned I noted his BP was still very low (92/41) but I had to do something about his arm. Once it was cleaned, I steri-stripped it and bandaged it as I have so many times with similar wounds. The whole time I was tending to him he was telling me that he had cut it sometime during the night and it really wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t bother to point out that it had just happened. I just got it taken care of and propped his arm on a pillow so I could run his BP again. When it came back 87/38 I told him I needed him to lay still for a minute until I got back. I grabbed my phone and headed outside to call his doctor. I explained the situation quickly and told the nurse that there was no way for me to walk him around to get his Blood Pressure to go up and I needed to know if I should take him to the emergency room. She promptly said yes.

When we got there, he was quickly put into a room so they could check his vital signs and run an EKG. His BP and heart rate were both too low. I stepped into the hallway with the doctor to explain that he has Alzheimer’s and his wife passed away 11 days before. The doctor said, “She finally died?” Nodding his head, he pointed out that he has treated them both several times. Then he looked at me and said, “You know it isn’t uncommon when you have been married this long to…”
“I know!” I cut him off. “I am here so you can help me to stop it from happening.” The doctor nodded again and said they were going to run some tests but his guess was we might have to install a pacemaker.
A short while later one of the nurses turned to me and said, “Let’s hope it’s not a case of Lost Mate Syndrome.” I was so frustrated I wanted to cry. I am fully aware that it is common for people who have lived together for so long to just give up when their mate dies. It is common for them to essentially die of a broken heart. I didn’t need anyone to point out the obvious, I just needed someone to figure out what the problem was and fix it!

The medical personnel asked him numerous questions while they started an IV about how he felt, what had caused him to fall and what medications he takes. He insisted they talk to me because he “felt like shit, didn’t remember falling at all and has no clue what medications he takes, they are put in his bowl however many times a day he has to take them and he takes them”. “How would you feel if your heart was broken?” he asked the nurse. But, his sense of humor was in rare form a minute or so later, he couldn’t resist introducing me to everyone we encountered as his girlfriend, flirting with the nurses and cracking jokes. As soon as they left the room, he was instantly went to sleep.
As I watched him sleep, I prayed that God would let us hold on to him a little longer. I prayed that he could find peace beyond understanding. This is a prayer a friend of mine prayed for Dad and me as we watched Mom slip away. I have come to lean on the phrase a lot in recent days. I was granted that kind of peace, so now I pray that Dad will be, too.

After almost 4 hours, the nurses returned to let us know that the test results looked amazingly good for someone his age. The official diagnosis… Syncope Vasovagal. Translation…Pulse slows down and causes blood pressure to drop as a direct result of stress and standing or moving too quickly.

Dad’s reply when he heard the diagnosis? He said, “I didn’t know those machines nowdays were good enough to find a broken heart. Well, what do you know about that?”
They told him he could go home as soon as the IV was finished. He asked why he was getting it for the 3rd or 4th time. The nurse explained patiently that he was a little dehydrated and that it would be a good idea if he kept his air conditioning on at home to prevent it from happening again.
He was also informed he would have to start using a walker for stability.


After waiting forever it seemed, the funeral home finally delivered Mom’s cremains late in the day. It was too late to try to get in touch with the pastor so they were put them in Dad’s bedroom.

This morning, Dad asked me if there was a rule about how soon we had to put Mom in the ground. I assured him Pastor Pete would know and I would call him shortly. We had a lengthy discussion about how much better he felt having her back in his bedroom. He said he slept better last night, just knowing she was there, than he had since she had gone in the hospital. He didn’t know what the rules were about such things but somehow it seemed wrong to let her be buried when he had promised her they would be together forever.
I called Pastor Pete and explained the situation. When I was through, he assured me that Dad had every right to keep her with him if that’s what he chose to do. The relief in Dad’s eyes was overwhelming to see when I told him what the pastor had to say. There was such a sense of love and peace that came over him as he said, “I just sleep better knowing she is here where she belongs…at home…in our bedroom.” It stole my breath away and set my heart to fluttering to see such a beautiful sight.

Today, we went to his doctor for a follow up visit. Dad’s heart rate and blood pressure were still abnormally low. After a little discussion, it was decided to cut his blood pressure meds in half. A bigger decision was made when the doctor decided it was time to put him on Lexapro (an antidepressant). He explained to Dad that his serotonin levels were off and it could be affecting his nerves, which could cause fainting as well. Dad said he didn’t care. If he was told to take them he would take them. The doctor laughed and told him to come back in a week.

On the way home from our appointment, Dad said very quietly, “I am so glad your mother gets to stay home with me. I told you God had a plan.”
I am in awe of the love he felt for her…
The love he feels for her still…

1 comment:

  1. After reading your comment on my FB page, I came here. I got through the first paragraph, but found that I am not able to read the rest just yet. We are in the very early stages and it seems that is all I am ready to work with right now...but your writing is beautiful and the love you share is even more beautiful...to be continued Thank you, Cindy Burns

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