Dad headed to Autumn, and I had a few errands to run in town, then went to Autumn. I really had to make myself get moving, get showered, try to put on a smile. At Autumn, Dad was already gone and I was trying to be resolved, to be strong and pour out good energy for Mother, and all I could do when I got in that room was cry and grieve, it's just so awful. After a while, though, I calmed and rested and even napped a bit in the easy chair holding her hand, with Benji asleep on my lap. When I woke, I was easier in my mind and more able to be there comfortably and minister the little things I could do: massage and lotion her hands, arms, feet and legs, clean her mouth a bit, apply lip balm, stroke her and tell her how much I love her.
But it all seems so little to do for her. I had no response from Mom whatsoever, and neither did the nurse when she was there. Her limbs are limp and warm, her hands so much softer now than they usually were from all the work she did and the needle pricks from quilting. The muscle tone in her hands is all gone, and her shin-bones are prominent. Her muscle tone in her legs and arms is all gone, as well. She's just fading away. Her breathing is pretty strong, though, and the nurses said all of her vitals are normal. They've now told us (of course, after I booked the flight home), that Mother could go weeks like this before passing away, or she could go quickly with a seizure.
A glimpse of Mom's room, now:
Cards from lots of folks
Christmas tree from Charlie, artwork from Chris, a Salvation Army flier, artist Tom DuBois
Christmas Wall Hanging Mother Made
Everyone at Autumn has a stocking like this
Mother's embroidery, "Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."
Still up from November. Should be 108th - Mother joked that's how long they'd each been married, all added up.
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