Watching Mom Breathe

 Watching mom breathe

I watched my mama breathe her last breath on December 28, 2001. It was horrible, and it was beautiful, and it was the most painful thing I’d ever been a part of but I loved her and so I was honored to endure that pain in order to be a part of that.

Today, I’m watching my mom, that is my “stepmom”, breathe, not knowing which will be her last but knowing that it will be sooner rather than later.

She is a hospice patient now. It was initiated to help manage the pain and “end of life” stages of dying from a battle with cancer. My mama had been on hospice too, as she had another form of cancer. Cancer sucks. There’s really no other way of saying it more succinctly. It sucks the life right out of you and your family, it sucks your hope and your energy. I know it can be survived as I am a cancer survivor myself, but mine was found very early and was removed surgically with no further intervention.

Unfortunately, my mama’s was found at stage three or four, I don’t remember which and had advanced to the point that surgical intervention wouldn’t kick it. Mom’s case was stage 3, I think. They did surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, but here she lies after numerous trips to the hospital for pain, infections, and then more pain and infections. All due to cancer? I don’t know, and does it matter since the result is the same; she’s breathing her last breaths these days and it is painful to endure for both herself and those who love her.

My daddy battled heart disease for the last few years of his life and he died on October 30, 2018. It was two days before my birthday. I should have been at his side, but I was taking my daughter to a party for her life skills class. I was supposed to go to the hospital as soon as her class was over, but some things just don’t wait for a convenient moment, do they? He had been on a ventilator, unconscious and non-responsive for what seemed like forever but had only been a few weeks. His last breaths were stolen, it seemed as if they weren’t really his, but instead the machine’s. My siblings and I stayed with him in the hospital as he was the one to say real quick, “I don’t want to be alone in here.”

Even though his breaths were made possible by machines and quickly found a rhythm with the other contraptions that were supporting his bodily functions, they seemed to have a finality to them, just like Mama’s so many years before, and just like Mom’s today.

Mom’s room is so quiet. No machines beeping or humming like when Daddy was in the hospital in his literal “deathbed”. Those noises became lifelines to me. The wheeze and whoosh of the ventilator. The “sh sh shhhhhhhhh” swish of the dialysis machine that the nurses and I named Matilda or Martha or something because it seemed to have a definite personality that was a little feisty. Those sounds convinced me with their whispers that he was still alive and might one day just wake up and say “Sister, let’s go home”. Although we all knew it wasn’t likely, I held on to those whispers like hope. Not all the sounds were comforting in that way. The suction, or aspirator nearly made me gag, as does the memory of the sound it made. The sucking slurping slimy sounds of bodily fluids that his body was too weak to absorb or expel any longer seemed overwhelming to hear and I can only imagine how horrible they must have been to experience.

But Mom has no machines. Only quiet. Except for the bed. The bed has a sort of air mattress that has a rhythm that can be soothing in a way. It seems to remind me that time is passing and not really standing as still as it seems. So, when I’m visiting with Mom, sitting beside her bed, and no one else is there except her, and me, and the Holy Spirit, I listen to her bed’s rhythmic soft whoosh, and I watch her breathe. Lately, she breathes so erratically that I literally have to concentrate on her chest to see the rise and fall to convince myself she is still there. And then I wonder for a while, “Is she really here though?” I mean, I understand that her body is still here but when there are such long stretches with no conversation and only empty stares, I wonder, is her “essence” or her spirit still here? I don’t think we’ll ever really know about such things until we meet again in heaven and by then, will it really matter?

But then, the quiet interminable moments close their loop, and she coughs or her eyes open and I see her look at me with “that look” that I and her oldest daughter know so well. That look that says, “Why are you staring at me?”

And I ask her if she needs anything? I ask, “Are you in pain?”, or sometimes, that uncomfortable question “Do you need me to change your brief”? These days most answers come in the form of blank stares or grimaces, but sometimes she answers.

I try not to cry in front of her because crying is not something this woman was comfortable with, but I’ll admit right now that last Friday I broke down. I laid my head right on her chest and told her that I was going to miss her and “who was I going to go to when I needed to hear ‘it’ll be okay”. I know, it was selfish. I didn’t plan it but I think I got her confused with my mama for a hot minute there because my mama was comfortable with my tears, and she did stroke my hair and tell me “It’ll all be okay” when I needed to hear it, even when neither of us was sure quite how “okay” was going to look. Mom was always pretty stoic and somewhat reserved really. Mama wore her feelings like a favorite pair of jeans. Both were strong in completely different ways, and I’ve come to realize that I was blessed with such different types of women to hold such important roles in my life. But guess what? When I laid my head on Mom’s chest last Friday, she stroked my hair and said in her too-weak voice “Don’t cry baby. It’ll be okay.” I consider that moment a gift from the both of them.

This week is full of responsibilities right here in my own home, an hour away from hers. It makes me sad and a little anxious when I can’t get over there knowing that she is so close to that final breath. I don’t want my sister to be alone with her like she was with our daddy when that happens. Being a part of that final moment is both a blessing and a burden I want to be there to support her through. Still, “life is for the living”, isn’t that how the saying goes? And I have to do what I can to keep my family here well and cared for.

And so, I pray for Mom, and for my sisters and brother and all of the people who love Mom so much, and I wait, and maybe hope for the next time I am there, watching Mom breathe.

 

Andora Henson

September 29, 2023

Addendum: Mom breathed her final breath here on earth at 10:33 a.m. on October 10, 2023.  She was surrounded by people who love her and now she is in heaven with Jesus, Daddy, and our little brother, Robin. 

Are Organic Foods More Nutritious?

Here is an intersting video/article I came upon while doing research for a book I'm ghosting. this project may change the way I eat yet!   Are Organic Foods More Nutritious?

Why VOTE?

I hear the grumbling, the complaining, the hopelessness that the 2016 Presidential campaign has created and I agree. More than the usual complaints of why one candidate is better than the other; those are to be expected, this election season has brought about the worst in most of us and this is fueled directly by those we have to choose from in this election. It is a sad commentary on our country and our people. Still, we must vote because it is our right, our privilege, and our duty as Americans. Our voices are important as individuals and members of a free society and have an impact in ways that we don't readily see.

Beyond these patriotic and logical reasons though, for some of us there are even more important reasons than those. God encourages us to be a part of the society we belong to.

"Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer. Therefore one must be in subjection, not only to avoid God's wrath but also for the sake of conscience. ..." Romans 13:1-14 English Standard Version

Deuteronomy 1:13 English Standard Version "Choose for your tribes wise, understanding, and experienced men, and I will appoint them as your heads"

"He changes times and seasons; he removes kings and sets up kings; he gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding" Daniel 2:21 ESV

Get out and vote today y'all, because for now, we can.

Peace , TheWritingMommy

Sometimes, you gotta just stand...

Ephesians 6:13 English Standard Version

"Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm."

Sometimes standing is the hardest part, especially when you want to explain, fight, shout, and all the rest. But it comes down to this; if you didn't start it, you didn't want it, and nothing that you have done or said has made a difference, then consider that "the battle is The Lord's" and let it go. It may hurt, but how does holding on to that anger, pain, resentment, and all the rest that goes with it feel? 

 

Proverbs 3:5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;

 

 

(I couldn't lean on my own understanding even if I wanted to because there are things in this life and this world that I can't make sense of anymore so I'm preaching to myself today.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 But, because all things are lessons if we allow them to be, i know that someone out there might be going through something today and need to see this as well.

 

Keep standing friends. Peace, TheWritingMommy

Check out my books on Amazon.com for temporary price reductions...

Hey Y'all,
This is the link to my books on Amazon.com. If you have read any of them I would love for you to submit a review. I would greatly appreciate it.

On August 19, Legacy of Love, a personal memoir of my mother's last year as she battled with cancer and anecdotes from myself and her other daughters, will have a price reduction for 5 days.

And beginning tomorrow, August 13, 2016, the Kindle Edition of One Perfect Now, a story of a woman losing her mom but finding her faith and herself, will be free for download Saturday and Sunday.
                         

                        "One Perfect Now is the story of Sandy Weston’s journey through incredible love and unbearable loss. She embarks on a journey she never wanted to take and along her journey she finds the identity she thought she lost, the strength she hadn’t realized she had, and the courage to walk into the future she always wanted"

Again, any reviews would be appreciated. Even if you don't love it, your opinion matters a great deal, especially as I am about to take my Aunt Millie Goodman's advice and begin a sequel to One Perfect Now, focusing on Sandy's brother and their relationship.


As always, peace to you all. 

Andora , TheWritingMommy

Rest In Peace My Sweet Friend

Puppers Henson. Sweet friend and lazy dog. :)

Puppers became a part of our family in June of 2003. He was so tiny he could barely reach the next step as he tried to climb onto our porch. He showed up covered in Sarcoptic Mange, malnourished, and had clearly been abused judging by his frightened and skittish demeanor.

I had recently been told by my sweet husband, "no more strays!", as we had only just moved in and I'd already taken in a few cats and another dog. I called him right away and explained that it would cost $20 to take this puppy to the pound and $20 for the medicine he needed to get better. I didn't want the responsibility of that decision so I left it to him and he quickly replied that I'd already made my mind up what I wanted to do so just go ahead and buy the medicine.

It took 8 weeks of daily treatment for the mange to begin to heal. I covered him in the foul smelling medicine every morning and left him in the kennel with food and water. I talked to him  when I went outside and sat by his kennel often just to remind him that he wasn't alone. He didn't whine or make much noise at all. I think he was just glad to have a place to rest and heal.


Eventually he was a cute fat little fuzz ball and he began to trust me. He still wouldn't come inside our home for many years and it took about that long for him to trust my husband. Loud noises frightened him and since we live in the country there were hunters and fireworks and coyotes and all manner of noisy things. The poor little thing was so nervous sometimes that I wondered if he would ever feel safe. After a while he began to trust us all though and He became our friend and a member of our family.

 His loyalty to me specifically began when I treated his mange I think, and grew over the years as he found many opportunities to need me. When he was well enough to leave the kennel he lived in our front yard. It was fenced and big enough for a dog his size to live in and get plenty of exercise. I felt it was completely safe for him and had no worries. One morning however, at about 7am I heard a terrible sound. The crying and moaning was awful and I couldn't get outside fast enough. I could see him standing in the middle of the yard but didn't see a problem right away until he shook his head and let out a mournful howl that broke my heart. This identified the source of his discomfort; he had somehow gotten a chain link stuck in his eyelid! This was a heavy duty chain used for securing cars to a tow line and weighed about two or three pounds. I don't know how he found it to this day as there were no chains in the front yard, nor did I ever figure out how he got it through the top of his eyelid but there it was nonetheless. I coaxed him over and calmed him as best I could in order to assess the situation. I had no choice but to try and get the thing out as quickly as possible. The link had remained open enough that I could pull it out if he would let me. I prayed for him as I began and he let me finish. I doctored the wound and let him love on me all he wanted even though I can't stand being licked. Once again, I had proven myself to him and he never forgot that.
He would get into similar harrowing situations several times over the next few years and thankfully God was gracious and allowed me to arrive and help him just in time.

 Puppers hated riding in the car and we didn't force the issue often, but when we had to for vet visits we often followed up with treats. He loved vanilla ice cream. I know, I know.... ice cream is people food and dogs have specific nutrition needs. I've been schooled by friends already but I gotta say, a little vanilla ice cream never hurt anyone and sometimes it makes a scary drive or visit to the doctor's office a little more bearable; at least Puppers and I thought so.

Even as a puppy, he was calm around me. He just knew somehow that I needed peace and he was such a peaceful influence. He would come into my office and sit with me while I wrote, usually with Gladys, the huge stuffed gorilla pictured here. Before I moved into the bigger space, he would come and lie under my desk at my feet. He was always gentle with me, but for a while he was a brute with other dogs. He would pick fights with dogs bigger and meaner than he, which was really surprising because he was always so gentle with people. He stopped when he was attacked, in our front yard, by two stray Pit Bulls. They almost killed him, ripping an ear nearly off. The vet was shocked when the ear healed and he hadn't lost it. He said Puppers must be a real scrapper. He was a survivor for so many years that I think he was ready for this transition from life on earth to life in heaven. He was diagnosed with heart worms and had arthritis so the heat in the summer and the cold in the winter worked against him for the past couple of years.

I'm not a "dog person". It's not that I have anything against animals, I just have a "take 'em or leave 'em" feel about animals in general. I respect that God made them and like us, they serve a purpose but Puppers was different somehow and he found his way into my heart. He was more than a dog to me; he was my friend and I will miss him.  Rest in peace Puppers. 

Times, They are a Changing

So, clearly I have lost the "30 Day Writing Challenge". No excuses. We make time for what is important and there are family issues that far outweighed my need to write.

Still, if I worked for a traditional employer I would likely not haven taken off whole days for the circumstances so I am making changes that will clearly mark my writing time and business. Not an easy thing for a "work from home" professional. Especially when that professional is a woman, and a mom. Not that men who work from home don't face the same dilemmas of time management, but it seems most women feel more of a pull to make sure the house and the children are in order. Maybe it is just me though; I have been told I'm a bit of an odd duck. 



Now that my children are, for the most part grown, I feel that the season of "mommy hood" is coming to a close and I can focus more on my career and the parts of me that I put on hold in order to nurture and raise up my children. That was a choice I willingly made with my husband for our family a long time ago, but much has changed and I'm ready, even excited to raise the level of priority that I give to my writing passion and business.



Do you have any suggestions? What has worked for you? Please share all tips, tricks, and ideas that may be helpful to me or any other reader. We would all appreciate it. Thanks y'all. 

Peace from TheWritingMommy