Mumsy is gone. She passed from this life on January 13, 2010 a few months following hip surgery. Seems some folks don't bounce back from that. I remember telling my cousin and the pastor that it was like Daddy all over again ...
Turning Mumsy over in bed, she's always popped something — it's the nature of old age and her MS. But this was really loud. It hurt and still hurt the next day. A portable x-ray showed that she had fractured her left hip. That's certainly not what one wants to hear any time, but especially when you're 74.
Surgery was scheduled and I think we all sort of held our breath until it was over. Mumsy herself was saying she didn't think she would make it through it with her medical condition. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted to come out the other side of it. She was tired and missed Daddy. I told her that was God's decision — not hers or mine. We would deal with whatever He decided.
She made it through just fine; but there was still a lot of pain. The time she spent in the hospital resulted in the beginning another bed sore. She always seemed to have one on her right butt cheek; but this one started on her lower back. I told them to keep her off certain pads because they irritated her. Oh they changed it while I was standing there; but when I got back the next day she was back on the bad one. Finally made believers out of them that I knew what I was talking about. Never saw her on the other kind again, but the damage had been done.
She had been referred to a "facility" and I thought the reason was to do therapy on her hip. After a week of being there with nothing to report, I had to sit them all down and have a talk to find out what was going on. Given that her hip fractured just from turning her over in bed, they didn't want to risk any further bone fractures. Then I contacted the doctor to find out why she was there. It was because of her bed sores and something else ... I can't remember now. She had been on hospice before the surgery simply due to the nature of the MS and the toll it was taking on her. She'd been paranoid, seeing things or people who have been dead for years, talking to folks that weren't there, and so on. Once she spent all day 'driving' and she kept getting lost. But when she went to the "facility" we had to drop hospice or medicare wouldn't have paid for her to be there. If I had known they weren't going to do anything, I'd have taken her straight home. As it was, now we had to redo everything with hospice and get her bed and stuff brought back out so she wound up there for nearly 3 weeks before I got her back home.
Once getting back home, she was still in a great deal of pain — more than I thought she should; but they seemed to think that was normal. They had also brought out an alternating pressure pad for her bed that didn't function right. It was too full, didn't alternate, and laying on it caused another bed sore across her shoulders, and aggravated the one that was still across her tail bone and lower back. Finally couldn't stand it any more and made her an appointment with the surgeon. The x-ray showed that the screws had obliterated the hip joint and was rubbing against the pelvic bone. They admitted her from their office and performed another surgery the next day. They removed all the hardware as well as the hip joint itself. She had also picked up an infection from all this and the bed sores were adding to it. After this procedure was explained to me and how it worked, I had to wonder why they didn't do that in the first place since she didn't walk. Had that option been offered us, it would have been the more logical route to take.
She was in SICU following the surgery. She looked so small and pale laying there in the bed. I hated the designated visiting hours, leaving her alone at their mercy. I suppose that's a bit dramatic since they did take good care of her. Of course I don't know if it's just because they were that good, or because I was always asking questions, following up, talking with them even when I couldn't actually visit her. It's a shame that the majority of older patients or medicare patients don't get the care they should because they usually don't have a loved one or other advocate to speak up for them. She did have the same physician as before — Dr Ira Lee Thomas, a good person and a good doctor. That may sound odd but IMHO if you're not a good person, you just can't be as good a doctor or nurse.
One day I went up to visit her and we had to wear these stupid gowns. She was kind of wide eyed that day and looked a little confused. I told her, "Just a minute, Mumsy. I have to put this silly gown on and then I'll be in there." She seemed to settle down. The nurse went in there with me and we were checking her vitals, the dressing, and I was making sure she was comfortable. When the nurse left Mumsy looked at me and asked what I called her. I told her Mumsy like I always do (instead of Mama). Then she wanted to know who I was.
... That scared me. I remained calm and told her I was her daughter, Rose; she lived with me and Bobby, and she had hip surgery, which was why she was in the hospital. That explanation seemed to satisfy her. Perhaps 15 minutes later I asked her who I was. She answered Rose. I asked did she remember that on her own, or did she remember that I told her earlier? She gave a little grin and said because I had told her. I said that was ok; it would come back to her — praying all the while that it really would. She never acted afraid of me. She had accepted that what I told her was the truth and was all right with that. I told her about NJ and BJ and she accepted all that, too. Thank God when I went to see her the next day, she knew exactly who I was and didn't remember that she didn't know who I was the day before. In fact, she thought I was kidding when I told her about it.
They moved her into a private room, but those bed sores were giving her as much pain as her hip. The wound care people always seemed to have been and gone by the time I got there, so I never really saw what the wounds looked like. NJ had come in for the Christmas holidays (yes we are that far into the year by now). So one night she stayed up there and I went up early to catch the team when they came in to tend to her wounds. I cringed. I had to turn my head at first and even now just remembering how awful they look makes me hurt and feel kind of sick. They were gaping wounds. I mean you could see the bone. Mumsy was one big raw nerve between all the pain she was experiencing.
Christmas was strange with her in the hospital. We got snow that year ... not really a lot of down fall, but a WHOLE LOT of drifts. We live opposite an open field to the north. Of course that's the direction the wind was coming from and it piled up in front of the house, the drive way, the vehicles, the road. We were snowed in on Christmas day; couldn't get out to see Mumsy. BJ was in town but couldn't get to the house, so instead he went by and spent several hours with Mumsy. That was good for the both of them.
When the time came she had to be discharged (lovely medicare rules) they wanted to send her back to a "facility." I refused. She would be coming home. Working all that out took some finesse. Hospice had to decide that the care she would be getting was related to her MS so they could do what needed to be done. We had to pay for the rental of a correct air mattress because medicare wouldn't cover anything but the basic pad; but that was OK. It wasn't too expensive and wouldn't have mattered anyway if it had been. She also needed IV antibiotics but a drip wasn't necessary. She had a little port and the nurse would come out and attach the pouch and start it. It would take around 45 minutes to finish. They showed us how to unhook the bag and flush it out with saline filled syringes they'd left.
Her sores were starting to look MUCH better, but she was still hurting all the time even with all the pain killers she was on. She was on oxygen all the time as she was having trouble breathing. NJ extended her stay by a week, then decided rather at the last minute to cancel her flight out because she was afraid Mumsy was developing pneumonia. She had always taken the night shift, sitting up with Mumsy and keeping an eye on her. That night I was up late, going to bed around 3-ish I think, not for any particular reason — just wanted to be.
The next morning Mouse was knocking on the door and calling up to me that NJ wanted me down there right away. Of course in the back of your mind you're thinking 'She's over reacting. Don't stress.' At least I was. Got dressed and went down to find her holding Mumsy in her arms and crying. She didn't look good and I knew her time had come; God wanted her with Him. I touched her knee, and she glanced at me, her eyes glassy so I'm not sure she really saw me. "It's all right Mumsy; I'm here. I know and it's ok. I love you and tell Daddy hi." A few seconds later she was at peace.
BJ was in Virginia delivering a load. His company got him a bus ticket home. We went to the funeral home with JL, Mumsy's brother, and made all the arrangements. We had the service and everything was just so surreal. I teared up, cried some, but it was a few days later before I wept. NJ was talking of renting a car to go back instead of flying. She had some things of Mumsy's to take back with her. I jokingly said I could just drive her, to which she replied she'd pay for it. We both laughed because neither of us thought Big Daddy would agree. We were pleasantly shocked; but then he found out it was my idea and he was upset. This was the first time in our married lives that we had no obligations to others; we could start living our lives for us. And I told him we could still do that when I got back. This trip was something that I really needed, a chance to get away from what was, and have that time to myself on the trip back to clear my head so we could start a new chapter of our lives. He agreed, and it did help, though it wouldn't be long for me to feel weighed down.
Turning Mumsy over in bed, she's always popped something — it's the nature of old age and her MS. But this was really loud. It hurt and still hurt the next day. A portable x-ray showed that she had fractured her left hip. That's certainly not what one wants to hear any time, but especially when you're 74.
Surgery was scheduled and I think we all sort of held our breath until it was over. Mumsy herself was saying she didn't think she would make it through it with her medical condition. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted to come out the other side of it. She was tired and missed Daddy. I told her that was God's decision — not hers or mine. We would deal with whatever He decided.
She made it through just fine; but there was still a lot of pain. The time she spent in the hospital resulted in the beginning another bed sore. She always seemed to have one on her right butt cheek; but this one started on her lower back. I told them to keep her off certain pads because they irritated her. Oh they changed it while I was standing there; but when I got back the next day she was back on the bad one. Finally made believers out of them that I knew what I was talking about. Never saw her on the other kind again, but the damage had been done.
She had been referred to a "facility" and I thought the reason was to do therapy on her hip. After a week of being there with nothing to report, I had to sit them all down and have a talk to find out what was going on. Given that her hip fractured just from turning her over in bed, they didn't want to risk any further bone fractures. Then I contacted the doctor to find out why she was there. It was because of her bed sores and something else ... I can't remember now. She had been on hospice before the surgery simply due to the nature of the MS and the toll it was taking on her. She'd been paranoid, seeing things or people who have been dead for years, talking to folks that weren't there, and so on. Once she spent all day 'driving' and she kept getting lost. But when she went to the "facility" we had to drop hospice or medicare wouldn't have paid for her to be there. If I had known they weren't going to do anything, I'd have taken her straight home. As it was, now we had to redo everything with hospice and get her bed and stuff brought back out so she wound up there for nearly 3 weeks before I got her back home.
Once getting back home, she was still in a great deal of pain — more than I thought she should; but they seemed to think that was normal. They had also brought out an alternating pressure pad for her bed that didn't function right. It was too full, didn't alternate, and laying on it caused another bed sore across her shoulders, and aggravated the one that was still across her tail bone and lower back. Finally couldn't stand it any more and made her an appointment with the surgeon. The x-ray showed that the screws had obliterated the hip joint and was rubbing against the pelvic bone. They admitted her from their office and performed another surgery the next day. They removed all the hardware as well as the hip joint itself. She had also picked up an infection from all this and the bed sores were adding to it. After this procedure was explained to me and how it worked, I had to wonder why they didn't do that in the first place since she didn't walk. Had that option been offered us, it would have been the more logical route to take.
She was in SICU following the surgery. She looked so small and pale laying there in the bed. I hated the designated visiting hours, leaving her alone at their mercy. I suppose that's a bit dramatic since they did take good care of her. Of course I don't know if it's just because they were that good, or because I was always asking questions, following up, talking with them even when I couldn't actually visit her. It's a shame that the majority of older patients or medicare patients don't get the care they should because they usually don't have a loved one or other advocate to speak up for them. She did have the same physician as before — Dr Ira Lee Thomas, a good person and a good doctor. That may sound odd but IMHO if you're not a good person, you just can't be as good a doctor or nurse.
One day I went up to visit her and we had to wear these stupid gowns. She was kind of wide eyed that day and looked a little confused. I told her, "Just a minute, Mumsy. I have to put this silly gown on and then I'll be in there." She seemed to settle down. The nurse went in there with me and we were checking her vitals, the dressing, and I was making sure she was comfortable. When the nurse left Mumsy looked at me and asked what I called her. I told her Mumsy like I always do (instead of Mama). Then she wanted to know who I was.
... That scared me. I remained calm and told her I was her daughter, Rose; she lived with me and Bobby, and she had hip surgery, which was why she was in the hospital. That explanation seemed to satisfy her. Perhaps 15 minutes later I asked her who I was. She answered Rose. I asked did she remember that on her own, or did she remember that I told her earlier? She gave a little grin and said because I had told her. I said that was ok; it would come back to her — praying all the while that it really would. She never acted afraid of me. She had accepted that what I told her was the truth and was all right with that. I told her about NJ and BJ and she accepted all that, too. Thank God when I went to see her the next day, she knew exactly who I was and didn't remember that she didn't know who I was the day before. In fact, she thought I was kidding when I told her about it.
They moved her into a private room, but those bed sores were giving her as much pain as her hip. The wound care people always seemed to have been and gone by the time I got there, so I never really saw what the wounds looked like. NJ had come in for the Christmas holidays (yes we are that far into the year by now). So one night she stayed up there and I went up early to catch the team when they came in to tend to her wounds. I cringed. I had to turn my head at first and even now just remembering how awful they look makes me hurt and feel kind of sick. They were gaping wounds. I mean you could see the bone. Mumsy was one big raw nerve between all the pain she was experiencing.
Christmas was strange with her in the hospital. We got snow that year ... not really a lot of down fall, but a WHOLE LOT of drifts. We live opposite an open field to the north. Of course that's the direction the wind was coming from and it piled up in front of the house, the drive way, the vehicles, the road. We were snowed in on Christmas day; couldn't get out to see Mumsy. BJ was in town but couldn't get to the house, so instead he went by and spent several hours with Mumsy. That was good for the both of them.
When the time came she had to be discharged (lovely medicare rules) they wanted to send her back to a "facility." I refused. She would be coming home. Working all that out took some finesse. Hospice had to decide that the care she would be getting was related to her MS so they could do what needed to be done. We had to pay for the rental of a correct air mattress because medicare wouldn't cover anything but the basic pad; but that was OK. It wasn't too expensive and wouldn't have mattered anyway if it had been. She also needed IV antibiotics but a drip wasn't necessary. She had a little port and the nurse would come out and attach the pouch and start it. It would take around 45 minutes to finish. They showed us how to unhook the bag and flush it out with saline filled syringes they'd left.
Her sores were starting to look MUCH better, but she was still hurting all the time even with all the pain killers she was on. She was on oxygen all the time as she was having trouble breathing. NJ extended her stay by a week, then decided rather at the last minute to cancel her flight out because she was afraid Mumsy was developing pneumonia. She had always taken the night shift, sitting up with Mumsy and keeping an eye on her. That night I was up late, going to bed around 3-ish I think, not for any particular reason — just wanted to be.
The next morning Mouse was knocking on the door and calling up to me that NJ wanted me down there right away. Of course in the back of your mind you're thinking 'She's over reacting. Don't stress.' At least I was. Got dressed and went down to find her holding Mumsy in her arms and crying. She didn't look good and I knew her time had come; God wanted her with Him. I touched her knee, and she glanced at me, her eyes glassy so I'm not sure she really saw me. "It's all right Mumsy; I'm here. I know and it's ok. I love you and tell Daddy hi." A few seconds later she was at peace.
BJ was in Virginia delivering a load. His company got him a bus ticket home. We went to the funeral home with JL, Mumsy's brother, and made all the arrangements. We had the service and everything was just so surreal. I teared up, cried some, but it was a few days later before I wept. NJ was talking of renting a car to go back instead of flying. She had some things of Mumsy's to take back with her. I jokingly said I could just drive her, to which she replied she'd pay for it. We both laughed because neither of us thought Big Daddy would agree. We were pleasantly shocked; but then he found out it was my idea and he was upset. This was the first time in our married lives that we had no obligations to others; we could start living our lives for us. And I told him we could still do that when I got back. This trip was something that I really needed, a chance to get away from what was, and have that time to myself on the trip back to clear my head so we could start a new chapter of our lives. He agreed, and it did help, though it wouldn't be long for me to feel weighed down.
—§—
I was fine the first few months. Then Mother's Day rolled around followed by Father's Day and the anniversary of Daddy's passing. I became really depressed. I would stay up til the wee hours of the morning and sleep most of the next day. I didn't want to do anything of importance, though some things I couldn't get away from and had to force myself to do.
At the grocery store I was looking over notices posted on the bulletin board and found one for drivers. I e-mailed to get more information and it was to drive a couple of ladies into town for appointments, or shopping, or just whatever they wanted to do. We were agreeable to my taking them one day and see what we all thought. I had to force myself to bed early to be up early, but it turned out to be a blessing. JA is around Mumsy's age and is the mother of the woman who hired me. The other lady is younger — JA's granddaughter, the daughter of the woman who hired me — but she doesn't drive. We've become good friends and once a week I spend 2-4 hours taking them places. We have fun — lunching, shopping, even go to play Bingo once in a while. It's helped me get out of my funk and gives me a little pocket change.
I also took another trip to NJ's. I drove up the first part of September and spent a week. We did a lot of sight seeing, visited cousins I hadn't seen in awhile. BJ got a load up there and took off a couple of days for a bit of sight seeing and visiting as well. It was a good time, and I came back feeling rejuvenated. That lasted about a week and then I could feel things starting to pull me back into the funk as Mumsy's birthday approached on the 20th. I told Big Daddy on her birthday we should do what she would do if she were here: visit the cemetery and go eat at Furr's Cafeteria! He doesn't care much for Furr's but we went and it helped me make it through the day. I've been putting one foot in front of the other, telling myself to take a DEEP breath, take baby steps. Mumsy and Daddy would want me to move forward with my life, and it would be disrespectful not to. So that is what gets me going and this 'new life' with Big Daddy is what keeps me going along with the grace of God.
