"Things Change..."

Sitting here with a half a gazillion things to do,
yet I'm silent and motionless...
collecting myself to get ready for later on tonight.

Last Friday, May 19th...
Mom lost her battle with cancer and passed away.
They gave her 3 to 6 months to live, but she held out for 10.
Long enough to see her new great granddaughter, little Kadee.
Being a fatherless, only child... it was always just me and mom.
Next to my kids, Mom was the most important person in my life.
Words can not describe or measure the almost unbearable feelings of loss & pain in which I have, and I find it difficult to write this.

The only thing keeping me going, is by just constantly moving & doing... and knowing she's finally no longer in pain and suffering.
Finally at peace.

It's been a crazy week since... too busy to even think...
making funeral arrangements, phone calls, packing & cleaning.
You accumulate a lot of stuff over time.
Every closet, drawer, and niche is a pocket of unlimited junk.
Boiling it all down to what's an absolute necessity to keep is extremely hard.

Mom's condition worsened rapidly over the past months, and her pain was unbearable.
Getting something done about it was a feat in itself.
Her doctor is great, but was very wishy-washy about giving out heavy narcotics.
Concerned about her getting other complications that truthfully were trivial in my mom's condition... I just said "Look, my mom is dying, and in excruciating pain... just make her comfortable."
So the doc put her on morphine.
And it worked like a charm... for a short time.
But after awhile the effects wore off, and she needed more.
A LOT more.
As an ex-druggie who just celebrated 10 years being clean & sober,
I knew what was going on with the drugs, and that she was building up a tolerance to them.
Finally, when they no longer were working...
I called for Home Hospice Care to come in and help me.
They came in last Thursday, and it was looking like there would be some relief in sight, and some help to make mom at least feel a bit better.
We upped her dosages of pain meds, and she went into a quiet "dope nod" after awhile.
Later that evening, she started to moan, and toss & turn in her chair.
I talked to her, and asked what was the matter.
With glazed staring eyes, her arm was trembling tight against her body with a tight clenched up fist, she said... "I'm having a stroke".

On home hospice, they want you to call them instead of 911.
So I called the emergency number.
The exchange said they would have a nurse get back to me.
When she did, she said that what was happening was par for the course with them upping her meds...
and that she might be like that for a few days.
So I let it go for a bit.
But she started moaning again later, and with slurred speech, tried to say...
"Help me."
I can just say, that I can think of no other situation in life to make you feel so helplessly powerless as that.
I called them back, but they assured me that I should let it go till the morning, to see what happens. So I sat with mom throughout the rest of the night, petting her head as she slipped into a deep sleep.
The next morning they called to inform me that the hospice nurse would start on Monday.
But I told them, "Ya better come in today, I think mom slipped into a coma."

When the nurse came, we struggled, but managed to move her to her bed, and get her more comfortable.
We cleaned her up, gave her some meds, and then started to plan for the weekend coming, and to schedule an aid to come in.
But in the course of things, the nurse had casually glanced down for a second,
and in a soft voice said...
"She's passed."

In just a tiny small moment... she was gone.
I guess she finally got to her bed, felt a bit more comfortable, figured she had enough pain & fighting the cancer...
and decided it was time to go.
Finally out of all the pain...
peacefully a rest.

And my life will take a drastic & radical change now that she's gone.
The main one being, after a warm invitation from my daughter & her husband...
I've decided to move to Georgia with them, and start a new life.
They have a huge 2 bedroom apartment already, but are having an even bigger house built which will be ready by the summer.
Things are cheaper there rentwise, and the opportunities and possibilities which have presented themselves seem very encouraging.

The 48 week medical treatment for Hepatitis C that I've been on is winding down, and with only 2 more weeks to go...
my viral load has been at a constant zero.
So it looks like I beat it for now.
I have no other ties up here except for my daughter Stephie who can fly down every few months or vice versa for a visit.

Besides being too busy to even stop and think, the more I think about it, the more it's the only thing that's giving me a tiny bit of hope & relief from the deep empty
feeling from mom's passing.
So it's a fresh new start for me.

Anyhoo...I gotta get my act together here...
I got a wake to go to in a few hours.
Time to say goodbye.

Mom was always "Home" to me.
No matter what ever happened in my life, I always knew there was a place to go for love and comfort, for a home cooked meal and a bed to rest my head.
She was always a shelter and sanctuary,
somewhere safe and full of love.
Now I find, even at 47... I somehow feel like an orphan...
and I have no more "home".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Remembering ~
by Elizabeth Dent.

Go ahead and mention my loved one,
The one that died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.

Don't worry about making me cry
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
The tears that I try to hide.

I'm hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending they didn't exist,
I'd rather you mention my loved one
Knowing that they have been missed.

You asked me how I was doing
I say "pretty good" or "fine"
But healing is something ongoing
I feel it will take a lifetime.