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. 

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. 

Day 7- Favorite Music

Day 7 of my 30 day writing challenge…

Wow, this is a hard one too. And by the way, I apologize for “phoning it in” yesterday. No excuse, just, I apologize. 

So, todays prompt is a hard one for me; “lists 10 songs that you’re loving right now”, because I love to listen to so many types of music and music speaks to me in so many ways. If you could see my playlist you might think I have multiple personalities or something because it is very eclectic, or so it seems to me. Let me know if everyone has such diverse tastes as Janis Joplin, Casting Crowns, Hannah Montana, Rhett Walker Band, Hank Williams, and Beethoven (to mention just a few) all in a row. I know my best friend and her son, my son does too, but I’ve not met many outside my family who share our penchant for variety to the degree that we do. 

Still, there are some that rank for all time such as:

Amazing Grace (whether vocal or the bagpipes, it always makes me feel loved and grateful), How Great Thou Art, Handbags and Gladrags by Rod Stewart, Willie’s Always On My Mind, and Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Pride and Joy. 

Some that I recently found and absolutely love are If You Can Use Anything by Ron Kenoly (amazing worship right there!) also, Jessica Reedy singing Better (or anything really) and CeCe Winan’s Alabaster Box. I love listening to Jimmy Needham, and the song that introduced me to him was one of his best; (although it is hard to choose) Clear the Stage. Gosh that song breaks it down to worship in its most basic and beautiful. There is one by a newcomer, Thomas Rhett, that most radio stations won’t play called Beer With Jesus. I think it is a great song and I see nothing wrong with it myself, but then, I don’t own a radio station so what do I know?

 The song by Brooks and Dunn, Believe, makes me cry almost every time, just like Dancing in the Sky by Dani and Lizzy, Justin Moore’s If Heaven Wasn’t so Far Away, and Redeemed by Big Daddy Weave. 

And the song Happy by Pharrell Williams makes me happy. And I dance! Yep, I dance around like a lunatic to that song and others such as Jesus Freak by Toby Mac, Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, Good Morning by Mandissa and Goody Two Shoes by Adam Ant. 

So, way more than 10 and those are just a few of my faves current and long time. I guess if I had to pick a hands down favorite it would be the cassette tape I have of my mom singing an assortment of original and other songs and the memories of my children singing along with me as I drove or sang them to sleep to theses;

Walking After Midnight, Patsy Cline

Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Judy Garland

Where Are You Going (Turn Around) , by Harry Belafonte

Delta Dawn, by Tanya Tucker

So there it is y'all, day 7. Talk to me y'all; I would love to see and hear your favorite music too.

Till next time, 

TheWritingMommy

Day 4 - Who Inspires You?

Day 4 – 30 Day Writing Challenge

Write about someone who inspires you.

Gosh, this is a hard one. I mean, really hard. There are so many people who inspire me in so many ways. 

My step-mom Marie Goodman inspires me with her ability to love so endlessly. She took me in, was patient for a very long time when I was just a hands down little brat and didn’t give up on me when I was doing crazy, self destructive things. She taught me how to be a wife and a strong woman. She has inspired me to put others first, do the hard work needed to care for a home, husband, and everything else expected of a woman. And I respected her and admired these things about her well before I grew to love her, which I did because she is some kind of lady. 

My sisters inspire me, each for a different reason.  Charlotte is the closest in age and she works two different jobs by choice as well as takes courses to further her education even more. She teaches a college level course, is the director for a state food program, and is an amazing mom. She still manages to go to the kids sporting events, spends time with them, attends church with the family and maintains a well run home. 

Christine, her twin was born next and she is an inspiring woman as well. She makes beautiful quilts, creates wonderful home décor, and crafts like no one’s business! And she cooks so well I’ve been tempted to think that she’d ordered the wonderful things she served from a professional chef. 

Aisha, my next sister has always had this “old soul” that seemed wise and strong in a way I couldn’t describe. She inspires me by her fearless search for knowledge and truth as well as her daring adventures with her family. 

Stacey inspires me by her tenacity and balance. It seems when the rest of the world, or at least our family world, is reeling from some news or circumstance, Stacey is calm and reflective making decisions based on fact and not emotion and handling things that would cause another lesser woman to fall. 

Susan and Cher inspires me in the same way; they are honest and frank. They say things that most of us are thinking but are too afraid or “proper” to say. I appreciate their quick delivery and even when I’ve been the recipient of their unfiltered words, I’ve been thankful because I never have to wonder where I stand with them. I often wish I were so clear and direct and they inspire me to take the risk and say what I mean. 

Spring actually came between Susan and Cher and this kid is and always has been a force to be reckoned with. She is so passionate about the things that she loves. She has grown so much in her faith and has stuck with it throughout so many obstacles. She keeps on trying, learning, growing. Besides inspiring me as a woman, and being my sister by blood, she is also my sister in Christ. She epitomizes the verse in the bible that mentions “iron sharpens iron.”

Bobbie is my youngest sister. She inspires me by her willingness to try new things. She follows her heart even when no one else agrees with her and that can be a dangerous and lonely thing. 

I don’t always agree with my sisters but I love each of them so much and they all inspire me in unique ways. 

My best friend Bonnie inspires me with her ability to remain loyal when the whole world bails and my friend Eve inspires me by her tenacity and dedication when she takes on a project. She will forego food, sleep, and countless lesser things when she is passionate about what she is working on or learning. 

My daughter’s Special Olympics team and the parents and coaches have inspired me over and again by having such great attitudes in the face of great difficulties, and my homeschooling community, both parents and children, have inspired me by standing by their decision to go against the status quo and live the life that requires so much but reveals so much as well. 

Clearly I could go on because I am inspired by the unique and wonderful things God created each of us with. I am blessed to have such amazing people in my life, and I’m blessed to have lived the sort of life that makes someone appreciate all they have.

Thus ends Day 4’s challenge, and for me, day 4 as I am achy and itchy (Fibromyalgia really really sucks!) and calling it a night. 

Peace y’all-

TheWritingMommy

30 Day Writing Challenge Accepted! Day 1

Hey everyone, I have been so "blocked" lately that I am committing to this 30 Day Writing Challenge that I found on Pinterest as a way to sort of rev up my writing engine. (Plus, I can't seem to get a clear thought about what to write)

So, join me in writing here if you like by your comments or links; I would love to read your words. Or, just read mine if you choose and feel free to add helpful critique. I have no real idea what to expect as I am really rusty right now.

Peace to you all my peeps. TheWritingMommy

Day 1
List 10 Things that make you really happy.

1. God The Father, Jesus his Son, and The Holy Spirit. It might appear that this is three, but The Trinity is one. Such a hard thing to explain, but by faith, I know it is true. I was asked by my niece, who is Muslim, to explain The Trinity and I found how really hard it is to explain this to someone who doesn't share my faith.  I likened God, in all His aspects, to a mom. She was 12  at the time so I felt using a "mom" would be a tangible idea that she could grab hold of. It went something like this:

" Your mom is a mom, right?"

 Of course I got a "well, duh" response and moved on.

"She is also a daughter and sister, correct?" I thought i could see a seed of understanding forming so I continued.

"Besides these two different persons, your mom is also a woman, complete independent from those roles. She is all three of these persons but in each role she is singular to that identity. Well, God made us in His image and while we are nowhere near the complex being that our Creator is, the way that we can be one person and serve so many roles is a bit like Him, only He does it way better."

That is a simplistic explanation I know but I'm no theologian and she was at the time simply a child trying to learn of the world around her and how differently we all believe. She is still a Muslim, and I am still a Christian and I love God above all else. I love His Word, I love His creation, I love the relationship I have with Christ and the certainty I feel about salvation through grace by faith.

2. My husband. My husband Tommy is my favorite person to be around. We have been married 22 years in July 2016 and in all those years we have experienced so much life, death, sickness, health, even financial reversals both good and bad. We have raised a son, daughters, animals and food. We have made messes and had to clean them up and we have been so angry we acted like fools, but through it all we have learned and grown and I truly enjoy him more than any other person. Being his wife truly makes me happy.

3. My best friend Bonnie. My friend Bonnie and I have been friends for 26 years or so. We have been best friends for probably 24 of those years and just like with my Tommy, we have been through a lot in those years. We held each other as we cried when we each lost our mom to cancer, we laughed, cheered, and cried again as we watched our boys grow into men. She allows me to be the essence of "me" and doesn't judge, isn't fake with me, and is comfortable being herself around me and that makes me very happy.

4. My kids. You might be wondering right about here why the husband, or at least the best friend are above the children. Well, here's the thing. I love my kiddos, all three of them, plus the daughter in law and the honorary children who started out as my children's friends and came to be "my kids" by their own choice, but kids are work! My children are all, 100% a blessing from The Lord. I was told when I was 21 years old that due to the repeated sexual abuse I endured and the scarring that had developed I would never be able to get pregnant and even if I did, I would never be able to carry a baby to term. I didn't know The Lord then, not in any real way, but I know it was by His grace that I conceived my son on New Years day 1987. I went into early labor at three months gestation but thanks again to God, the doctors at Baylor Hospital, and bed rest for the next 5 months, I gave birth to the greatest miracle in my world and my first real love; Jacob Dillon.  When he was not yet three I was found to have cervical cancer and needed a hysterectomy. I was so sad at the news. I wanted to have at least one more child and told the doctor so. He, whose bedside manner was likely learned from Sesame Street's Oscar the Grouch, told me, "If you want to live to see this one grow up you'll have the surgery!" I left the office crying and praying and of course, I had the surgery; exploratory laparotomy with removal of the cervix, uterus, and the left ovary. Two year later I would have the other ovary removed as it proved to have a fast growing cyst the size of a baby's head on it. Thankfully, that growth was benign. One divorce, one marriage, and ten years later God answered my simple prayer that I prayed as I left the doctor's office; My husband and I were asked to adopt a baby. My husband and I agreed to adopt the baby and were blessed with a girl; our sweet Shelby. Then, three years later, we were asked to adopt another girl under different circumstances and did so again adding our baby daughter Haley to the family. God always gives abundantly, doesn't He? Still, while they are blessings, miracles, and all that ooey gooey stuff, they are work. We decided when we chose to adopt that I would become a "stay at home mom",( a term that was coined by someone who'd never held the position since staying home was rarely part of the job description). My husband was and is very supportive though and we tag teamed through the sleepless nights that seemed to never end for one reason or another, through the inevitable feelings of overwhelm and isolation, through the lean times when I was sure that my efforts would be best served bringing in more money rather than shaping our kids' futures. I love them all, and they do make me happy, but they have also been my career, which I have taken very seriously, sometimes too seriously, thereby missing some of the "happy".

4. Creating. I love to create things with words, paper, sounds, clay, paint, anything I can use to create with really. I just love the feeling of creating something. It is only amplified by seeing someone's appreciation of the thing I've created. Making stuff just makes me happy.

5. Music. I love music. All kinds, genres, and aspects of music. Well, almost ALL kinds. I have to admit, I am not a fan of opera or the "screaming so loud you can't understand the words" kind.

6. Art. I love to go to art museums, I love to watch people creating art whether it is a painter, a sculptor, quilter, or crafter. I truly enjoy the feelings it evokes and the inspiration something created with heart and soul gives.

7. Reading. Oh I love to read. Reading may well be in the top five but it is hard to tell since it is usually based on "what am I in the mood for?" And, as a writer, reading often falls into the category of "work".

8. Visiting my family. I have 8 younger sisters and 2 younger brothers. One brother, our sweet and silly Robin, died from complications of Kidney Disease in 1996. I love visiting my family members and don't do it nearly as often as I would like. My sisters have not always been my closest friends because I was older and often the care giver, but as adults we have developed more balanced and open relationships and I find them to be amazing women. I love my brother too but he's a "guy's guy" and I don't know a lot about hunting or fishing or the music he listens to (Death Metal). So, while we talk about our kids or how things are going in general, he is a man of few words and we don't just "hang out" like I can with my sisters. We see each other at Daddy's house mostly and that works pretty well. I love my dad and step mom and visiting their house and it makes me smile when we all get together whether at my house or for family reunions or holiday celebrations.

9. Food. Oh my gosh, I almost forgot food. I really enjoy food. Whenever I get the chance, I like to try new things, although texture has been an issue over taste many times. Food makes me happy. So happy though, sometimes I have to will myself to move away from the cookie!

10. Working out. I actually really enjoy going to the gym. I'm thankful that I can move my body and work up a sweat because there was a time I couldn't. I have had Fibromyalgia for years and there have been periods of time when the pain was so debilitating that I was in bed for days, only walking to the bathroom and when possible, to cook for my family. Those were the worst days. I'm grateful that I can walk and move and I really enjoy the "me time" working out affords. It allows me to distance myself from all mental and emotional stress, which actually makes it easier for me to work on those things that are stressful.


So, there you have it: My Day 1 writing. Sort of long I think. It has been a while since I have written anything so I will have to work on brevity again apparently. This is a first draft too by the way. No editing, just off the cuff words from my head and heart and hands to the keyboard.

Again, I'd love to see your "Day 1" if you would care to share. Peace and love to you all-

TheWritingMommy