3 years . . . 1 day

For several weeks now I've thought about what I would want to say on this day.  I pondered the lessons the Lord was teaching me, yet nothing seemed to feel right.  Then came the events of the last 48 hours.  Let me warn you that this blog will contain very raw emotions.  Read with caution.

Mom's health slowly began to decline a few years ago.  We've spent many days in the hospital during this time.  Each time she would go in, it was a big deal because things looked very grim until they figured out how to help her.  Last October is when it all got worse.  I don't think she ever really bounced back from it.  6 weeks later she ended up back in the hospital, with major concerns.  Mom and dad celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary during that hospital stay.  Her nurses purchased a cake and celebrated right along with them.  Mom was discharged, then a few short weeks later was able to watch me walk down the aisle and say "I do".  She was still so sick.  I don't even have a picture of just the two of us on that day.  For a few months we saw her getting better, but that changed in the spring.  Dad was having to care for her 24/7.  It was really beginning to wear on him.  

Then came August.

Mom was complaining about very sore "bumps" on her legs.  She went to the doctor a number of times, but didn't receive any real answers at that time.  A punch biopsy was done to determine what the bumps were.  Very quickly the area around the biopsy became infected.  Doctors were still baffled about it, so they ordered another biopsy.  This time they would cut into her leg and stitch her back up.  The surgery went smoothly, but later that night she fell, hitting her head on the tile floor.  She was taken back to the hospital.  It was August 22nd.  She stayed there for 3 days before going home.  

Labor day weekend my boys stayed with mom and dad.  My parents loved having the boys stay with them.  On Sunday dad called to say he needed to take mom back to the hospital because her pain was so intense in her leg.  Little did I know that was the last time my mother would ever hug my sweet boys.  On Labor Day a doctor determined the area around the punch biopsy site needed to be removed.  The tissue was necrotic and badly infection.  After surgery she was left with a hole the size of the palm of my hand, about an inch deep, and even larger under the skin.  A few days later came the wound vac.  If you don't know what that is, google it.  We all hated that thing, and hated watching her pain whenever the wound care techs changed the dressing.  On this visit, mom was admitted September 1st.  She stayed for 10 days before going home.  

September 16th.  An ambulance took mom back to the hospital.  She couldn't stay awake, let alone stand up.  It was quickly determined she had stage five kidney disease and needed immediate dialysis.  This came as no surprise to us considering her kidney doctor previously told her she would need lifetime dialysis.  Mom and dad had already been to some classes to learn about the process.  After a few weeks of receiving dialysis, mom's kidney function improved significantly.  While doctors and nurses kept praising her progress, I was skeptical.  I couldn't see what was happening on the inside of her body, but on the outside I didn't like what I saw.  Mom slept 20 hours a day.  She couldn't really carry on a conversation because she was too drowsy.  I saw the fight and desire to live dissolve inside her.  She was tired.  Tired of the pain.  Tired of the sickness.  Tired of the hospital.  Tired of doctors and nurses poking and prodding her all hours of the day and night.  Simply tired.  On October 3rd I updated family and friends with good news.  Mom was removed from dialysis and the c-diff infection seemed to be gone.  Exactly one week later that all changed.

October 8th. I spent much of the day with mom and dad.  We didn't carry on much conversation, because she was sleeping so much.  All the medications had really begun to affect mom's mind.  I babbled on like I usually do in uncomfortable situations, but I didn't know what else to do.  To be honest, I didn't think she looked any different than she had the week before.  As I left, I gave her a hug and told her I'd see her again on Thursday.

October 9th. In the morning I went for a run.  I felt light-hearted for the first time in weeks.  I spent much of that time praying for mom.  I told God that we were all so tired of all the suffering.  I truly didn't think we could handle much more.  I asked God to heal mom, but not to how she was a few months ago.  I wanted her better.  Like she was a few years ago.  If that wasn't God's plan for mom, then I wanted Him to heal her completely.  With the eternal healing that only He could provide.  I felt peace in my heart after this prayer. 

A few minutes later I began receiving texts from dad that were unsettling.  I asked if he needed me to come.  His simple "yes" was all that I needed to hear.  Mom began to get really sick, really fast.  She was so panicked, they placed her on heavy doses of anxiety medicine.  She didn't even recognize dad when he came in the room.  I knew it then.  I knew it wasn't good.  When nurses were giving me hugs I knew it had to be something bad.  I walked in the room with a nurse.  When I told mom I was there, her eyes perked up and she began searching the room for me.  As soon as she found me she held out her arms.  I will forever cherish that little movement, and the last hug she ever gave me.  I asked her if there was anything I could do for her.  She simply said, "take it all away."  Oh, if only I could.  She was so miserable.  It was as if thousands of tiny spiders were crawling all over her.  She's terrified of spiders.  She was beside herself.  My brother called, but I couldn't speak to him.  The ICU nurse that had been sent to oversee her gave him the update.  I then placed the phone up to mom's ear so he could talk to her.  Through the oxygen mask, I heard her say, "I love you too."  Those were the last words I heard her say, and the last signs of life I saw from her.  The doctor came in the room and said he was very concerned about her and wanted her moved to ICU.  By the time she was ready to be transported, the medicine had fully taken affect.  She was completely still.  Too still.

Her ICU room number was 316.  I can't tell you the comfort that brought me.  John 3:16, "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him, should not perish, but have eternal life."  Yes, mom believed in Him, and no she would not perish.  The wonderful ICU doctor asked permission to put her on a breathing machine while they ran tests to see what was happening.  That took awhile, only giving us a few minutes to see her before visiting hours ended.  Dad, my brother and I all got a chance to tell her we loved her.  The nurse suggested we go home and rest, that they would call if anything changed.  So, we did.

October 10th.  At 4:00 am we received that call.  The nurse was having to work all night to keep mom's blood pressure up.  It was the only thing keeping her alive.  All three of us rushed up to the hospital.  They had some plans of things to try, but nothing helped.  Some more family arrived and got a chance to see her.  The doctor had a family meeting with all of us.  Mom's organs were all septic.  There really was nothing more they could do.  Her decline was quick.  So quick.  We called more family.  By noon all 10 of her Florida family members were there.  The staff was kind enough to let us all stay with her.  The love and support from my aunts, uncle and cousins made this whole day okay.  A pastor came to pray with us.  After praying over her, we walked out of the room so the nurse could work.  When she called us back in, she told us what we already knew in our hearts.  Right after we left her pupils fixed and she no longer had gag reflexes.  I take comfort in knowing it happened after we walked away.  After she heard us pray.  After we lifted her up to Jesus.  Even on life support, she had slipped away.  As a family we decided to take her off the blood pressure medicine.  We all stood around and let her know it was okay.  She didn't need to hang on any longer.  It was time to let go.  Pretty soon we saw the steady drop of her BP.  Within a few minutes of reaching 19/16, the heart rate line went flat.

Mom was gone. 

39 days in the hospital was enough.  More than enough.

October 11th.  Today is the 3rd anniversary of the tragic death of my first husband.  As this day approaches each year, I find myself reliving the emotions and experiences of that day three years ago.  But this year it's different.  Instead of thinking about planning a funeral, we ARE planning a funeral.  Instead of being reminded of all the pain and heartache losing a loved one brings, we ARE in pain and have great heartache.  Yet, through all of this my prayers have been answered.  Mom is no longer in pain and suffering.  She is no longer hooked up to IVs and needs medicine.  She no longer has a giant hole in her leg or a wound vac.  She no longer has to lay in a hospital bed.  She is walking, running, dancing, jumping, talking, and loving on our loved ones who passed away before her.  I'm simply grateful she can be free.  I'm jealous that she was able to meet Jesus yesterday.  What a glorious meeting that must have been.  So, yes, we are sad.  Very sad.  We hurt.  We miss her dearly.  But above it all, I'm glad this roller coaster is over.  Today is the first day in 39 days that my dad doesn't have to spend at the hospital.  We can begin our grieving and work through this next phase of our journey.

To all our prayer warriors out there, please know that words cannot express our deep gratitude for all the prayers for our family.  Especially these last few days.  We felt them all, and we appreciate each and every one of you.  

Much love and thanks from our family to yours.  

"The Lord is close to the broken hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18