Wonky Wonderings

I asked Richard if he wanted to ride to the store with me tonight. He said no. I went by myself and was aggravated that I had to ride alone. So much so, in fact, I called my sister to pass the time. In retrospect, I am so glad he chose to stay at home.
Upon my return, Jordyn met me downstairs to tell me that G’dad was upstairs because Pop had fallen down. I threw my bag and my purse aside. He said, “Aunt Susan said he was ok but…” I almost knocked him down as I made my way up the stairs.
I hurried down the hall to dad’s bedroom. Susan was at Dad’s side assuring him he was fine and “that it was nothing but a scratch” when I came through the door. I saw him lying there in the bed with his injured arm in the air, a wet washcloth held firmly in place. My stomach flip-flopped at the thought that I hadn’t been here for him.
I assessed the cut within seconds and headed to get the necessary medical supplies. Richard hurried into the room with a handful of supplies so I made quick note of what he had brought and what I would need, before hurrying to get them.
As I reentered the room, I flew into action. I cleaned and assessed the wound, realizing instantly that I would have no choice but to debride the wound. Susan faded out of the room. The tears in his skin would, in no way, go back together. The skin was torn and hanging. I cleaned the area, then began to cut away the slightly thicker than paper pieces of torn skin. Then I cleaned, dried, put antibiotic ointment on and bandaged his bruised and bloody mess of an arm.
The whole time I worked on him, Dad thanked me for taking care of him. Something inside me screamed, wanting to say I hadn’t been here to prevent it. I was gone when it happened and I was kicking myself for it. It was my job to take care of him and I had let him down. Each time he thanked me, I felt a knife slice through me. It was the knife of guilt.
When he was settled in a bed with fresh linens (thanks for helping me Richard) and he had a fresh pair of pajamas (the ones he was wearing were covered in blood and soaking), I had time to think about my feelings. They were the same feelings I felt when my children were young and got hurt. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t prevent them from getting hurt. Unfortunately, I can’t entirely prevent Dad from getting hurt either.
His “Wonky” (dizzy, unstable, light-headed) feelings are happening more frequently of late. And it causes so many things to cross my mind. His spirits are good and he is coping so well now that Mom is back with him. Sometimes, it’s as if his body is failing him despite his will to survive. He has insisted that his “Wonky” feelings are related to his heart.

I can’t help wondering if they are. I’m calling his doctor on Monday because I really need some answers.

Munner's Day & Milk Oh My

May 8, 2010

It has been exactly 2 weeks since Mom passed away. Cameryn declared yesterday that from now on, the day before Mother's Day was going to officially be Munner's Day. He said he thought it was a good idea for her to have her own holiday because she would have liked that. Before he went home on Friday night, he made a card for her. He cut a butterfly out of paper and folded it in half, the inside reads…
“Dere Grandmunner,
I am sory that you diid but I hope you are having fun up thare. I hop lot’s of things for you. I miss you.
Love You,
Cameryn”
He left it on my desk next to her photograph as we were getting ready to leave. He looked up at me with sad round eyes and said, “I hope she likes it.” I hugged him and assured him I’m sure she does!




Dad and I both slept late this morning. It was after 10:30 when I received a text from a friend. I was shocked to see how late it was and bounded from the bed. Richard came in the room moments later and laughed at my sense of panic. He pointed out it was ok to slow down because Dad hadn’t gotten up yet either. He said he had to run to the store for milk because Susan (his sister) had drunk the last of it. He wanted to get it before Dad got up. Milk is an important part of Dad’s morning ritual for breakfast.
As luck would have it, Dad got up about 15 minutes later and headed straight to the kitchen. He proceeded to go about his routine… until he realized we were out of milk.
“Shari, there isn’t any milk!”
“I know, Dad. Richard went to the store to get some. He should be back soon.” I assured him.
“What in the hell keeps happening to the milk? Somebody keeps drinking it all.”
A small voice replies from the living room, “I drink it, Daddy.”
“Susan, nobody drinks that much milk.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes before looking at me pointedly.
“Daddy, I do. I love milk. I drink it all the time. I drink about a gallon a day.” This is a true statement. I have seen her do it the whole time she has been here.
“Milk is not good for you! Susan, you really shouldn’t drink that much milk. Besides, it is expensive.”
Quietly Susan said, “That’s why I have bought most of it myself, Daddy.” She then moved to the back porch.

Dad poured himself a large glass of orange juice and informed me he would just have to wait for Richard to get back to have breakfast. He slowly began moving around the kitchen making a halfhearted attempt at unloading the dishwasher.
I knew Susan was hurt by his comments so I went outside to check on her. When I returned he was sitting at the bar cheerfully munching on his bowl of cereal. “Dad, don’t you want to wait for the milk?”
He said it was fine. “But isn’t it dry?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he replied, pointing to his almost empty orange juice glass. “It’s not bad. Really, you should try it.”
I am sure I looked slightly horrified when I asked him if he had put orange juice on his Cheerios and banana. He suggested I “just try it”.
I tactfully said I couldn’t because I have a cold and don’t want him to get it. He laughed and said he didn’t want me to use his spoon, he wanted me to get one of my own. With an indulgent smile, I took a spoon out and went to his side. I looked in his bowl and told him I wasn’t too sure about this. With a twinkle in his eye he said, “C’mon try it. If you don’t it makes you a… chicken.”
I dipped the spoon in and tried a bite (I have never been able to resist a dare). When I finally managed to swallow it down, he said, “See, not bad at all.”
I moved to the sink with a grin at his playfulness. I know he doesn’t have taste beds but I would never tell him I know. I will let him keep the secret that he can't even taste it. I enjoy these games we play. But I think I will stick to milk on my cereal thank you very much!

"Jack & Maurine"

May 7, 2010


The extreme down of having to go to the hospital for lab work is not being able to eat or drink after midnight. This can be excessively difficult with Dementia patients because they forget they aren’t allowed anything, they forget they have an appointment, and they forget to tell you if they slip up and eat or drink something.
The extreme up is there is a really good chance that Dad will run into at least a few people he knows and will have an unexpected opportunity to visit. It is a very social experience for him.
As we walked into the hospital this morning, Dad quickened his step. “There’s Jack,” he announced cheerfully. “I haven’t seen him in ages!”
I moved further into the room while he made a beeline for his friend. As I reached a seat, Dad loudly called out to me, “I’m gonna sit here and visit with Jack for a bit.” I nodded and smiled in response.
A woman joined them and lavished Dad with hugs and regrets… first for Mom’s passing and then for not having attended the memorial service. I could clearly see that Dad recognized her but couldn’t remember her name. The three of them took seats and proceeded to talk in loud voices as people in there 80’s often do.
A good portion of the people in the waiting room looked up when Dad told them his “drill sergeant over there was making him use the walker so he wouldn’t fall flat on his face”. Several people chuckled as he pointed to me and announced, “That’s my daughter-in-law she drives me everywhere and takes care of me.”
It only took me a moment to figure out that the couple he was speaking to were the “Jack & Maurine” that had sent a lovely sympathy card with no last name, only a return address. Only yesterday, I had done a neighbor search online with their address to determine what their last name was so I could address their thank you card. I wondered what the odds of that happening were.

I listened to the conversation (along with the majority of the people who sat waiting). Dad proceeded to tell them the story of how his dear friend (and doctor) had taken away his driving privileges and then told him they had to have someone live with them and care for them all the time. Then his doctor had abandoned them and moved to Montana to ride his motorcycle. He told them how he had hired caregivers until they had been robbed “half-blind” and had spent most of their life savings trying to pay these girls. He told them he had called his son Richard, who had come running immediately to help care for them and had moved his family here. He said Richard and I had saved his and Mom’s lives (slightly ironic to me).
He jumped forward to tell them how terrible it had been to watch Mom die a couple of weeks ago. Then he announced that Pastor Pete (he is their pastor, too) and I had saved his life because we said he didn’t have to bury Mom. He chuckled as he said, “She’s at home sitting on the dresser. I wonder what she would say about that?” The reactions to that comment around the room were many and varied. Maurine assured him she thought it was wonderful that he could keep her right there where he wanted her to be. Dad seemed appeased that it was ok with his friends that he intended to keep Mom at home with him.
Shortly after that, Dad was called to the back. Maurine immediately made her way to where I was sitting. She introduced herself and explained that she had known my in-laws since the early days of moving here. They had all arrived within a year or so of each other and had attended the same church and beach club for many, many years. We chatted for several minutes before she told me how sweet she thought it was that Dad was keeping Mom on the dresser. I smilingly pointed out that she was actually sitting on top of her jewelry box.
The elderly lady laughed heartily and shook her head, “That is so perfect. I wish the girls were still alive so I could tell them. I can’t think of a more appropriate place for Del than sitting on top of the family jewels! That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard”
The chair I was sitting in began to shake as the lady sitting one seat over from me, on my left, tried to contain her mirth. I looked over at her and started to shake myself. She had tears running down her cheeks as she tried desperately not to laugh out loud. It was all I could do to turn my attention back to Maurine as I thanked her so much for stopping by. “Such a pleasure to meet you and thank you again for the lovely card you sent. Please come by the house to see us sometime. Dad would love to have visitors. He gets rather lonely these days,” I pointed out. Maurine shuffled her way back to check on her husband, Jack.
I looked at my laughing seatmate and finally couldn’t help it. I began to laugh softly too as Maurine announced loudly, “I went to visit with Shari, Dear. She’s Bill’s daughter-in-law, the one that’s letting him keep Del at home. Don’t you think it’s romantic to want to keep your dead wife with you? She seems like such a nice girl.”
The lady next to me said laughingly, “I bet things are never boring for you.” I had to agree. We chatted for a bit.

After a few minutes, Dad returned. He made his way back to where I was waiting. Halfway there, he shouted, “They just wanted me to sign paperwork.” He then remarked to no one in particular, gesturing to his walker, “I don’t really use one of these things but my boss over there says I have to because I passed out the other day. I don’t remember passing out but if I was unconscious it makes sense that I wouldn’t be able to remember it. I learned a long time ago that it’s a man’s job to make the women in his life happy. What else are you gonna do, piss her off?” Shaking his head, he sat down beside me with a snort.
He caught the glance the lady and I shared as well as our silly grins. He looked immediately suspicious. “Are you two talking about me?”
“No, Dad. Should we be?” I replied.
“Of course, you should,” he grinned. “Why wouldn’t you be? I’ve had that problem all my life. Everywhere I go women just want to talk about me.”
I looked away with a big grin of my own.
He was called to the back at that moment and he promptly rose and headed toward the door. I called after him, "Dad?" He stopped and looked at back me.
"Don't you think you should use this?" I indicated the walker he had abandoned.
"Nope," he smiled. "If I pass out here, I'm pretty sure they can figure out what to do." He winked at me as he went through the door.
I had been frantically writing down quotes the entire time all of this was going on. The lady next to me leaned over and said, “He’s so cute. I bet you have such a great time. He’s very lucky to have you.”
I rolled my eyes (which I do a lot) and replied, “He’s very cute sometimes. But I’m the one who is lucky to have him.” (I say that a lot too, just about every time someone tells me my in-laws are lucky to have me, in fact). To be honest, our lives are a two way street, Dad’s and mine… we give and we take, we lean on each other and we love each other. We are a family… and we are muddling through whatever life has to hand us. And we are making it one day at a time with God's help...

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…

The Weekend of Her Passing

On April 24th, the evening of Mom’s death, a dear friend of mine sent me a text. Their concern was evident. The following is exactly what I wrote in my reply, “I feel so blessed and peaceful… Not what I expected. But had no real expectations. Just trust that God is at work.”
“All of it has been ugly beyond belief. It has also been more beautiful than can be imagined. I don’t know why I was so lucky to be chosen for this…doesn’t matter…just thankful I was.”
Those words will always hold true for me. At times, I feel a physical pain because I miss her so much. I awaken during the night and lie in bed listening for the creak of her wheelchair sneaking into the kitchen, knowing it will never come again. I think of things every day that I want to tell her or show her. But I draw comfort from my belief that she already knows.


The following morning, Melissa and the kids were at the house. As soon as Ayla saw Pop (Dad) she ran to him. She rapidly explained that Munner was in the sky and when she looked down, she could see us. She used her fingers to illustrate how small each of us looks to Munner as she went through a roll call of all our names. Then she took Pop’s hand and said, “Pop, Munner loves us very much. Her said so.”
Dad placed his hand on Ayla’s head as he gently patted her curls. With tears in his eyes, he softly replied, “That’s right, Sweetheart. That’s right.”


That night, Cameryn stayed the night with us. Jordyn had spent the last 2 weeks at Melissa’s so I decided it was time she had a bit of a break. It was an uneventful until the following morning.
Cam approached me as soon as I was up Sunday morning. He announced that Jordyn had fallen asleep first last night so he had stayed up playing cards with Munner. My heart twisted and lurched. He explained that he had sat at the table across from her “spot” and dealt them both cards. He said he had to look at her cards to “help her play” but he didn’t “cheat at all”. With a big grin he said, “We had a lot of fun but it’s just not fair because she still won!”
***Mom was an avid card and game player. I am not surprised in the least that she is still winning***


Tyler spent Sunday and Monday trying to find her. Occasionally he would call out, “Munner” while running through the hallway or into their bedroom. For Dad’s sake I am thankful that at almost 2 years old he is still a bit difficult to understand.


Jordyn has been the least vocal of the children. Every once in a while, he reachs out and touches things in passing that belonged to her, a deep sadness in his eyes. But as the oldest, he is either unwilling or unable to express how he feels about the loss. I am confident he will in his own time and in his own way.

The Toughest Ladybug Ever

It was a very long night with just the 2 of us there (and an occasional nurse). I sang to her, read Psalms to her and talked to her. Every once in a while, her eyes would fly open and try to bring me into focus. I would smooth her hair away from her face and talk softly as I encouraged her to relax. The struggle to breath was terrifying to watch. For a period of over 3 hours, she was only breathing at 8 breaths per minute. Each breath she took shook the entire bed.
There is a point where the carbon dioxide that cannot be exhaled from the lungs begins to build up and causes an erratic fluctuation in pulse, respiration, heart rate, blood pressure, etc. This is a sign that the end is approaching. About 11:30 Mom had the first episode. It was frightening and the nurse quietly explained that there was no turning back, that there was no way she could recover. Her brain was now being too deprived of oxygen. After the episode, all of her stats leveled off and actually rose back up to normal range. She was fighting to live for all she was worth!
About 4:30, I had my head resting on the bed while I prayed and I fell asleep. When I woke up just before 6:00, I felt a weight on my face. I carefully turned my head to see Mom’s hand resting on my cheek. What an incredible gift I was given in that touch! I closed my eyes and cried. A short while later, the nurse explained that she had been slowly moving her fingers toward me (it was a space of a few inches) until they rested on me. I was also informed that she had had another carbon dioxide episode while I slept.
I asked the nurse to keep an eye on her and went outside to get some air and admire the incredible thunderstorm that had been raging all night. I stepped out into the rain and sobbed until my stomach hurt as I let the rain pelt me. It washed away the tears as they fell. I walked to the car and composed myself (and dried off somewhat) before going back upstairs. The family pastor came by and visited briefly.

Finally about 9:30 or so, Dad and Richard arrived. We gave Dad a few minutes alone with Mom and went outside for some air. When we returned, it was obvious that she was taking a down turn. Her stats had begun to drop and her breathing was more erratic.
Dad excused himself to go to the bathroom. When he returned he told me he had had an accident, he needed to go home and change clothes. I asked Richard to please take him home to change. I implored him to hurry.
A few minutes after they left, Mom’s stats began to once again rise and her breathing leveled out somewhat. I asked the nurse why that kept happening. She asked me if there was anyone who should be here that wasn’t. I suggested possibly her daughters. The nurse told me to call them and tell them to come NOW! I explained that it wasn’t at all possible.
She asked me if I had told Mom it was ok to leave us. I assured her I had. I had made many promises to Mom during the night. I told her it was ok to go to heaven because I would take care of Dad until he joined her.
She then asked me if Dad had told Mom it was ok for her to go. “In exactly those words,” she asked. I said not that I had heard.
“Shari, I need you to do something. You have to tell him when he gets back to tell her it’s alright to go. He has to let her know it is ok to die. That may be what she’s waiting for.”

It was quite some time before Richard and Dad got back. Dad had to shower and find something to wear. I pulled him into the hall and explained what the nurse had told me. I told him I knew how hard it would be but that he had to tell Mom it was ok to go to heaven without him. That it was ok for her to die because he was going to keep going until God called him Home, too.
He went to her side and did exactly that. He held her close and told her that he loved her so, so much. He said he didn’t understand why God was doing this but that it was all in His plan. He told her it was time for her to go. And he warned her not to pay any attention to all those good-looking fellows in heaven because he would be there as soon as God let him. He cried as he held her. He gently smoothed back her hair and leaned his face to hers. He kissed her numerous times.
And as we watched, the stats began their descent once more. Dad begged the nurse to help her as her breathing became unimaginably worse. Quietly the nurse stepped forward and injected a syringe of morphine into the IV of morphine. Within minutes, her breathing slowed, and the numbers began to drop rapidly.
And suddenly it seemed, she simply didn’t take another breath. We watched and waited but it never came again. On April 24, 2010 at 12:27 pm, my Ladybug flew away Home. And while I know she is in a far better place, my heart aches with missing her. I can’t begin to imagine the ache in Dad’s heart at losing his “bride” of almost 70 years…

Sort of the Middle (but not)

On Thursday she failed the weaning again… The doctor came in and explained to Dad (and us) that they would take her off the ventilator early the next day. Dad was devastated so we went home so he could lie down for a while. I went back up to see her with Faith. Then I took Melissa and the boys (Cameryn and Jordyn) up so she and they could say goodbye. I told Grady (another grandson) specifically to NOT go up to the hospital between 2:30 and 4:00, because we were bringing the boys up and we didn’t want any interruptions. He was in Mom’s room when we arrived.
The boys were wonderful. They each took one of their great-grandmother’s hands and took turns talking to her. They were brave and sad and eventually Cameryn began to cry. That was the catalyst Jordyn needed to release his own tears. Through every moment of their time with their beloved Muner, I was thinking how proud she would have been of them both.
Melissa, in tears, said her goodbyes to her Grandmother and we left with Grady in tow. The entire scene was surreal and heartbreaking and gut wrenching. Cameryn and I went to get the car. When everybody piled in, I realized that Grady was sandwiched between the kids in the back seat. He announced he wanted to come to the house for a while. Not knowing what else to do, I drove us home.
Shortly after that, Dad was ready to go back up to the hospital so Richard took everybody else and dropped them off while I took Dad to see Mom. We were unprepared for the next turn of events. When I had left earlier with the children, I told the nurse that Dad and I would be back soon. She began lightening Mom’s sedation. We walked into the room and began talking to her as we had been doing for days. But this time, she opened her eyes and looked at us. She squeezed our hands and responded to everything we did or said. There she was with the ventilator breathing for her and she was awake. It was a wonderful sight. Unfortunately, Dad saw it as a hopeful sign and truly believed it meant she was finally beginning to recover.
The doctor came in sometime after Richard arrived and explained that they were going to remove her from the ventilator the following morning. When Dad asked what would happen the doctor told him simply it would all be in God’s hands.
He suggested that he would call us if we weren’t there when they were ready to begin weaning her off it. By then, Richard and I knew that the writing was on the wall. As we were leaving for the night, the nurse told us to be there about 7 o’clock the next morning.
I couldn’t sleep Thursday night. It was after 3:00 am before I went to bed. I prayed myself to sleep. Sometime around 4:30, I awakened with a start and realized it made no sense to be there at 7 because they don’t do shift change until 7:30.

Unfortunately, I was so tired the sound of Richard’s alarm didn’t register with me Friday morning, until he headed upstairs 30 seconds after he turned it off to get Dad up. I was getting dressed when he returned a few minutes later.
I was grumpy from worry and lack of sleep. I was snappy when I pointed out my wee morning hour revelation. He told me I was ridiculous. So I called the nurses station on ICU and asked what they thought. I was informed that it would be ridiculous to come up there right then because they would be going through shift change and it would be 8:30 or 9:00 at the earliest. The nurse suggested we wait at home and they would call us when they were ready to begin (sort of what the doctor had said).
By 9:30, we were beyond antsy. Dad really wanted to get to the hospital so we went. When we got there, we were allowed to go straight in with Mom. They didn’t ask us to step out of the room until about noon. They removed the ventilator quickly and we were allowed back in.

Friday was an exceptionally long and joyous day in many ways. Mom was able to talk when she came off the ventilator. Her numbers were solid and everything looked surprisingly good. After 30 minutes, it was decided that she had “soared” (a term used for being taken off the ventilator successfully).
The first thing she asked was, "What does all this prove?" and she gestured toward the ventilator. She then asked if she could have some vanilla ice cream so Richard was allowed to feed her most of the cup. She smiled at me and showed her teeth. "See how pretty my teeth are? Thank you for remembering them." (I had grabbed her teeth and slipped them in my purse the morning we went to the ER. As she was eating it, a gurgling began to build up in her throat. I immediately recognized it for what it was… she was developing a “death rattle”. My heart broke even more and I thought I was going to have a panic attack. The nurse came in and told Richard that she couldn’t have any more to eat, just before they had to aspirate her. The ice cream had NOT gone to her stomach it had gone into her lung. My Ladybug had not “soared” after all. In fact, she was beginning to crash.
She napped off and on, struggling to breathe. At one point she opened her eyes and gazed around until she saw me. I immediately stepped closer to the bed. "I talked to God... told Him I'm tired." My heart broke into a million little pieces as it soared with her faith.

It was after 8:30 when Dad finally realized that it could be a long night. He decided he wanted to go home right as it started pouring down rain. I took him home. When we left the hospital, he thanked me for picking him up (I was with him the entire time) and complained about doctors making appointments so late in the day. I was shocked to realize he was completely disoriented and confused about why we were leaving the hospital. The whole way home he asked what other appointments we had coming up. And what the plans were for the next day. It was as if his memory was wiped clean of the current events.
But, when Richard helped him out of the car and into the elevator, Dad told him, “Rich, it’s just too sad. I couldn’t sit there all night and watch your mother die. I just wanted to come home.” As quickly as he had become unclear, he cleared up. Richard helped him upstairs.
He was quiet as I helped him get ready for bed. As soon as I had him settled, I headed back to the hospital to sit with Mom.