ADgitize

Sudden Shock!

I did not know what to do but cry at the thought that mom might have cancer. I gathered myself together and decided to go to the hospital and see her the next day.
It was a beautiful but cold Sunday morning when I arrived at the hospital. I was still pretty shook up, and had to gather all of my strength to overcome any emotion so that I would not upset mom.

I did not immediately inform any of my family members about the situation until I could get a better understanding of what mom would be facing. When I walked into her room, the shades were drawn by the window, and the curtain was mostly closed around her hospital bed. There were no lights on, either. I came around and saw that she was sleeping, so I sat down and watched for a while. Then I decided to seek out a nurse or doctor to see if I could find out anything more about mom’s situation, only to discover that there were no doctors available to talk to. Since it was a holiday week, and a weekend, they were short-staffed and all of the senior physician’s were apparently out of town. I was told that some doctor would call me by the next day. Mom was pretty out-of-it, so I decided to go home.

Over the course of the next 4-days, more tests were taken, though it is not clear what was actually done. I was told that a bone marrow test had been done, and that it came out normal, but there was still a concern about mom’s kidneys. Mom seemed to be OK for the most part, but I soon became aware that something else was going on. Every time I came to visit her, she was usually sitting up on the side of her bed and apparently in good spirits, laughing even. However, she began to tell me about some curious things: that there was some kind of a “conspiracy” going on with her room mate’s teenage children, and also seeing strange things in her room. While it appeared that the conspiracy she spoke of was more like teenage fun to placate my mother, the basis for it was that mom was seeing imaginary, cartoon-like figures running around the room. When I tried to tell mom that she might be hallucinating, she laughed it off, claiming that they were real to her.

I questioned one doctor, who appeared to be straight out of med-school, about the hallucinations, and he indicated that they were likely due to the sedatives and medication that they were giving her. When I asked what medicines she was on, they could not give me any straight answers. That's when I started to get angry. It seemed that I was annoying them with reasonable questions, and I felt like they were giving me the run-around. At that point, I decided to pay real close attention to what was being said and done to my mother.

I later did a little research of my own and found out that the medication(s) that were causing the hallucinations, particularly anesthetics, were also negatively affecting her memory and thought processes, and likely irreversible. Little did I know then that the day mom was admitted to the hospital would be the last day that she was truly lucid, truly herself. It would be the last time that mom was "normal".

Note: Two great resources for medical information on the internet are The Merck Manual (for aging) and WebMD. They will offer answers that the medical "experts" can't or won't offer.

Between the Hospital and a Hard Place

After spending one whole week in the hospital, over Christmas no less, it was time to take mom home. She was in good spirits, but she seemed to be a bit more distant and quiet, which was totally unlike her. So, to try to cheer her up a bit, I took her to her favorite restaurant and had a good meal.

From that time onward, and any time that she had to go to an appointment or anywhere, mom required the help of a transport chair. I quickly learned what a daunting task that would be since I never really had to care for another person's personal needs before. I also realized that mom had a more difficult time walking, getting up or sitting down, and even began to require some help with her bathroom needs. Little did I know that this would only be the beginning. It was becoming more apparent that my mother was now more dependent on me for most all of her basic needs and activities of daily living.

When mom was still in that hospital, I had a lot of time to consider what could happen and what might be needed to be done under certain circumstances. While I never really considered the possibility that mom would have cancer, I knew that her health and well-being would become more of my responsibility to some extent. I began to recall the experiences that she had with her primary doctor, and the hospital that the doctor was associated with, prior to the current situation. I never much cared for or appreciated the care--or lack thereof--that mom was given in the past, so I decided to seek out another doctor and another hospital for a second opinion. Granted, most people would not even think of doing something like this with someone in their late eighties under the circumstances, but believe me, it was the best decision that I could have made. So, I had all of mom's medical transcripts transferred to another doctor and hospital for a complete re-evaluation of my mother's situation and health issues.

It really came as no surprise that the new doctor would confirm mom's original diagnosis: kidney cancer. The better news was that her new primary doctor and all of the medical staff that were working with mom were absolutely wonderful and caring people. I could not ask for anything more. She was re-evaluated for her basic abilities, re-tested and re-examined by specialists for treatment of her cancer, and finally referred to a hospice group who would work on an in-home basis.

Just a note: While it may seem that I am a bit too casual in my explanation about what was actually done, let me assure you that making the decisions that I made was not an easy task for me. I was on a roller-coaster ride with my mother's health and well-being, and I knew that I only wanted the best case scenario for her. A nursing home was not a place that I would ever send my mother to live out her days, and I promised her that I would take care of her no matter what circumstances. After all, she gave birth, raised, and cared for seven children--she deserved to have that care and love returned to her. I also made a promise to my father just before he died that I would take care of mom--it was his last request.

In the following months after that Christmas in 2005, my life went into a whirlwind. While the hallucinations had subsided for the most part, a whole new avenue was about to begin in mom's life. The hospice staff would stop in once or twice a week to check mom's vitals and see what may or may not be needed. The nurses would spend time trying to talk to her while taking her vital signs, and she would sometimes become disagreeable, even aggressive. At the beginning, mom really had no clue as to the severity of her situation, mostly because she was NOT in any real pain, and would become defensive if anyone tried to explain things to her. In fact, she sometimes thought that it was some kind of joke. For a while, she was her usual highly opinionated and sometimes cranky self who only required minimal help, unless she asked for it. As time slowly passed, however, it was becoming more apparent to her (and me) that she was changing: her memory was faltering more, her ability to converse was becoming more difficult, and she was unable to focus enough to do her beloved crossword puzzles. For most of her daily routine, she would watch television shows with a semi-blank stare and take more frequent cat-naps. Mom was slowly slipping away into dementia.