My 98 year old mom died on 12/12 - COVID-19 related. [View all]

Last edited Fri Feb 12, 2021, 12:03 AM - Edit history (1)

After living all alone 700 miles away from me, she had been nearby for almost a year. When she came to visit for Christmas 2019, she got a nasty case of shingles, and spent a week in a hospital near the pediatric office where I work. Then, 3 weeks of rehab to regain strength. During that time, I told her I was not putting her on a plane to go back to Rochester NY, where she had outlived all her friends and former colleagues. She graciously accepted that it was time for a change.

I found a 55+ independent apartment community that is part of a chain designed specially for seniors who are independent but want someplace small, maintenance free, and no stairs. She liked it, I had a blast furnishing and decorating it, and she made a few new friends - not easy to do at 98. She was doing well, and had no cognitive decline.

Everything changed right before Thanksgiving. She texted me “I can’t get up.” I texted right back, and got no answer, so I got right into my car and went to see what what was going on. I found her face down beside her bed, with her face up against the bedside table, and her left arm tangled in the small bed rail she used to help herself up. It was horrifying. I panicked and called an ambulance.

Covid +. 10 days in a different hospital, during which time I could not see her, of course. After 10 days, she said no more interventions, and I arranged for transfer to a non-acute care facility. Still on quarantine.

I had several phone conversations with a hospice nurse who was guiding me thru this mess. That nurse met with my mom on Dec 8th, and reported that my mom told her that she’s had a good life, had no regrets, and the only thing she still wanted was to see me again. On Dec 10th, the quarantine was over, and we spent a very lovely hour together, talking, remembering, laughing ,and she was totally present. Yet one more move was planned for the following day, to a more traditional skilled nursing setting, and she said she was OK with that, trusted my decisions and felt peaceful. I went there to meet with staff and fill out papers. I left feeling pretty hopeful.

About 3 hours later, her day shift nurse called to tell me that her vitals signs had deteriorated dramatically, and she was not responsive. I went right back, and the change in her was complete and stunning. No hand squeeze, no eye focus, no nothing.

I cannot help but feel that once her wish to see me was fulfilled, she decided, “That’s it. I’m outta here.” I sat at her bedside as much as I could for the next 48 hours.

Last Saturday, about 3:30, I told her that I had to go go home for a bit, and that if it was time to let go, that I was OK with that, and that, like her, I was a strong woman and would be fine. About an hour later, I got the call that she had died. I think she waited until I left to slip away.

The hardest part is going to be adjusting to being the last one standing from my family of origin. My dad made it to 90, and died in 2011. I had a younger brother growing up, who died in 1978 in a scuba diving adventure that went wrong.

So now, there is no one left with who to share childhood memories.

My husband and I have been married since 1982, and we have 2 sons, 30 and 28, so I’m not alone in the world, but none of them can share in the, ”Remember when we...” stuff from my early life.