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I understand your point very well. I feel the same way. I can't get over the fact that my mother is forever gone and never coming back. Pondering what I said isn't going to make you feel better.
Here's what I was trying to say: the fact that people feel just like you do, and that people since the beginning of time have suffered the loss of their parents, etc., and they all have gone on continuing in their lives, many finding happiness again. It's possible for you, too. You and I are both in acute grief. So, we can't see much beyond the horrible pain we have every day. I actually feel worse than than I did in the first 2 months. It's because the shock and denial are starting to fade away, little by little. Now, I am left with sadness, anger, jealousy...etc. The past few days have been horrible. But, as they say, the only way to really heal from horrible grief is through it.
I am wishing you some relief in the coming days and weeks.
Hi FD, thank you. Same to you too!
I was actually not thinking of any post of yours when I made the "everybody dies" comment. It was spawned from words people have said to me.
I've found myself being occupied mentally thanks to work and my family, which helps a great deal. But in reality I am just existing. As soon as the things that occupy me are gone, misery sets in...though yesterday I did not cry, I still had a weighty mind. The grief (and depression) is always there in the shadows.
Lately, what has dominated is the trauma. I was with her from the moment she complained of stomach pain, to the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, and then everything that came afterward. I was her sole caregiver. With my eyes, I watched her change before me. Cancer is pure evil. My mind keeps replaying the traumatic moments -- how she looked at death, how emaciated she was, the pain she felt while hospitalized, her state of mind when confronted with the knowledge that this would be the end of the road.
People can think negatively of this, but I'm going to say it anyway, she didn't deserve that death.
My dog Wally, who also had terminal cancer that took him in a nanosecond just two weeks after my mom, now he died a peaceful death, no agony. Sure, my attentive administration of her meds meant that she was "at peace" when she died, but by that time she was basically a skeleton. She had stopped talking and was asleep all of the time.
It's like I had lost her on July 1, when we last interacted, and her body shut down on July 7.
It's not just that my mom died, it's how she died, and how she suffered before her death. That really really hurts me. I kept it bottled up while I was caring for her, because I didn't want to cause her any emotional turmoil, but watching my mom get weaker and weaker day by day, it took a toll on me.
Thanks to hospice, I was given a play by play as to what to look for in terms of signs of when death is near. I just broke out in tears when I saw the telltale mottling of her feet on July 6. I knew that I wasn't going to have her much longer. i believe in my heart that she hung around because she wanted to hear me say that I accepted her death and that it was ok to pass, because she died several hours later after I said it.
I have a feeling the trauma is going to be with me quite some time.
She was disgnosed with CMML. We don’t know if it ever progressed to acute. One doctor we consulted with thought it should have been diagnosed as acute from the beginning. That would have allowed her to be admitted to his hospital. We decided against that because family members would not have been allowed to stay overnight with her and that was a dealbreaker for us.
Her oncologist suggested we stop blood transfusions in February. In fact, he refused to order any more. I resent, and resented his arrogance and we switched oncologists. My mom was getting transfusions about every two weeks and she had “good” months in March and April. I appreciate that extra time we had with her.
Her body was starting to shut down. Her appetite dropped to zero. We tried everything…prescription pills, gummies, etc. Eventually nothing worked. I regret that I pressured her into eating. I read afterwards that lack of appetite is the body’s natural reaction to organs shutting down.
She spent about two weeks in the hospital before we brought her home. In the end, it was her express wish to stop any treatment. She was tired and ready to go. We brought her home to die. The hospice experience was traumatic in and of itself but the hospital would not keep her there to let her die. I would have preferred to let her pass there but they wouldn’t allow it. I was the one giving her morphine at home. Mercifully she passed within 48 hours. The journey was over. I told her “mom, you’ve done your job. You can rest now. We’ll take care of Dad and be there for your baby (my little sister). Don’t worry about them.”. Her death was peaceful. She just stopped breathing.
This post really resonates with me, and my experience was similar.
My mom wanted to go home. She knew that meant "the end", but she was tired. I wanted to fight if she wanted to fight, but I truly think now that she was only doing so for me. At some moment, she came to the realization that she was never going to get better and everything (the repeat hospitalizations, the weakening of her body due to the wasting syndrome) just wore her down.
Actually I need to stop typing right now because I'm starting to tear up and cry.
I was actually not thinking of any post of yours when I made the "everybody dies" comment. It was spawned from words people have said to me.
I've found myself being occupied mentally thanks to work and my family, which helps a great deal. But in reality I am just existing. As soon as the things that occupy me are gone, misery sets in...though yesterday I did not cry, I still had a weighty mind. The grief (and depression) is always there in the shadows.
Lately, what has dominated is the trauma. I was with her from the moment she complained of stomach pain, to the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, and then everything that came afterward. I was her sole caregiver. With my eyes, I watched her change before me. Cancer is pure evil. My mind keeps replaying the traumatic moments -- how she looked at death, how emaciated she was, the pain she felt while hospitalized, her state of mind when confronted with the knowledge that this would be the end of the road.
People can think negatively of this, but I'm going to say it anyway, she didn't deserve that death.
My dog Wally, who also had terminal cancer that took him in a nanosecond just two weeks after my mom, now he died a peaceful death, no agony. Sure, my attentive administration of her meds meant that she was "at peace" when she died, but by that time she was basically a skeleton. She had stopped talking and was asleep all of the time.
It's like I had lost her on July 1, when we last interacted, and her body shut down on July 7.
It's not just that my mom died, it's how she died, and how she suffered before her death. That really really hurts me. I kept it bottled up while I was caring for her, because I didn't want to cause her any emotional turmoil, but watching my mom get weaker and weaker day by day, it took a toll on me.
Thanks to hospice, I was given a play by play as to what to look for in terms of signs of when death is near. I just broke out in tears when I saw the telltale mottling of her feet on July 6. I knew that I wasn't going to have her much longer. i believe in my heart that she hung around because she wanted to hear me say that I accepted her death and that it was ok to pass, because she died several hours later after I said it.
I have a feeling the trauma is going to be with me quite some time.
How long was it from diagnosis to death? A few months?
You have caregiving grief on top of normal grief from death. My Dad and I have it, too.
My mother was never terminally ill, but she became a different person after her stroke. She required 24/7 care for 2 years.
You have no siblings or father? My heart breaks that you have to go through this all alone.
No! What happened to your dear mother was not fair. It just wasn't.
Your mother was your world, even more so than mine was to me. My mother did not like to do much. She got pretty grouchy in her latter years. lol. I loved her to death, nonetheless. I did not like to do much with my mother except get coffee, or take a walk with her. She always got on my nerves, god love her.. lol
I am sorry. Somehow you will heal. Just let yourself grieve and grieve and grieve. It is normal.
This post really resonates with me, and my experience was similar.
My mom wanted to go home. She knew that meant "the end", but she was tired. I wanted to fight if she wanted to fight, but I truly think now that she was only doing so for me. At some moment, she came to the realization that she was never going to get better and everything (the repeat hospitalizations, the weakening of her body due to the wasting syndrome) just wore her down.
Actually I need to stop typing right now because I'm starting to tear up and cry.
I cried too when I wrote my post. I’m really sorry for your pain. My mom lost over 50 pounds in less than a year. We thought she had early onset dementia. She would forget what year/day it was but she never forgot her family. Her memory issues could have been related to her low hemoglobins. It was probably a bit of both. I think it was a blessing in disguise because she would forget her diagnosis. Anyway I don’t like remembering everything. My mom lived to 87 but in my mind she died young and she never got old. She was a beautiful person and vibrant, and then she was gone. It is still surreal. Peace to all of us.
I cried too when I wrote my post. I’m really sorry for your pain. My mom lost over 50 pounds in less than a year. We thought she had early onset dementia. She would forget what year/day it was but she never forgot her family. Her memory issues could have been related to her low hemoglobins. It was probably a bit of both. I think it was a blessing in disguise because she would forget her diagnosis. Anyway I don’t like remembering everything. My mom lived to 87 but in my mind she died young and she never got old. She was a beautiful person and vibrant, and then she was gone. It is still surreal. Peace to all of us.
Just because your mother was older does not mean that you miss her any less. It is still just as painful. She did live a long life, though.
My mother was in her 70's, and sometimes I think was she was robbed of 10 or 12 years. But the stroke did her in. There was no future for her, even if she had lived into her 80's. My mother lived a good life until she was 70. I am grateful for that. She suffered for a little over 2 years, but not physically.
Last edited by FrancaisDeutsch; 08-09-2023 at 01:30 PM..
How long was it from diagnosis to death? A few months?
You have caregiving grief on top of normal grief from death. My Dad and I have it, too.
My mother was never terminally ill, but she became a different person after her stroke. She required 24/7 care for 2 years.
You have no siblings or father? My heart breaks that you have to go through this all alone.
No! What happened to your dear mother was not fair. It just wasn't.
Your mother was your world, even more so than mine was to me. My mother did not like to do much. She got pretty grouchy in her latter years. lol. I loved her to death, nonetheless. I did not like to do much with my mother except get coffee, or take a walk with her. She always got on my nerves, god love her.. lol
I am sorry. Somehow you will heal. Just let yourself grieve and grieve and grieve. It is normal.
Thank you. My father is still alive, and I have a great relationship with him. But they divorced when I was very young and he moved to another state. While my mother nurtured and maintained the relationship between me and my dad and I saw him regularly, the "day to day" tasks of child rearing she did herself as a single parent, with assistance from my grandmother. As a result, a very deep, close bond developed between all three of us that continued for many years. First my grandmother passed away, now it's my mom. Now, of the original "Three Musketeers", it's just me.
Mind you, I left home at 18 years old. Married. Moved to another state. Lived my life. Yet the relationship endured because it grew from just parent/child to a friendship.
Distance couldn't keep us apart. When she retired, she decided to "go for it" and make a move to a state she knew nothing about to join me and her grandchildren.
When I got married and had kids, my world broadened to include all of them. But she was always there, in her place (in my world). Now, that place is empty, and I have to learn to live with that.
Quote:
Originally Posted by SanJac
I cried too when I wrote my post. I’m really sorry for your pain. My mom lost over 50 pounds in less than a year. We thought she had early onset dementia. She would forget what year/day it was but she never forgot her family. Her memory issues could have been related to her low hemoglobins. It was probably a bit of both. I think it was a blessing in disguise because she would forget her diagnosis. Anyway I don’t like remembering everything. My mom lived to 87 but in my mind she died young and she never got old. She was a beautiful person and vibrant, and then she was gone. It is still surreal. Peace to all of us.
Thank you. My mother was universally described as "tough", beautiful, a real "pistol". She was never a quitter. Sadly, as tough as she was, cancer still won It was so sad to watch such a vibrant, strong woman get reduced to the state she was in when she died. I know it killed her inside to have me tend to her needs. She proudly lived on her own and still had moxie when she got diagnosed. Bit by bit though, she felt her life as she knew it slip away from her. Just breaks my heart.
Your mother was beautiful and those adjectives you used to describe her come through in that photo.
When my mom was in her last days my mind kept going back in time to my junior high years when I read a book called “Death be not Proud” by John Gunter. I remember it being the story of a brave little boy with a brain tumor. After rediscovering the book and what the title was based on I’m realizing it was about more than that.
”Holy Sonnet X"
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Riaelise (and anyone else), I want you to know something. I was super close to my precious dad, and his death stuck with me for weeks - probably months - after he died of a stroke. I had to make the decision to unplug his life support in fact. It was horrible, horrible. He had a stroke on his brain stem. The neurologist told me that he could keep my dad alive but he couldn't give him his life back. My dad would have been furious with me. So after asking if he was in any pain (no), I went home and reread his medical directive and prayed about it and came back early the next morning and met with the doc and we decided to turn off the life support. He died a few hours later.
For MONTHS, all I could think about was his death. But slowly, those images receded as I remembered more and more about what a terrific dad he was, all those years and years and years of memories. Now, five or six years later, I nearly exclusively think about the happier memories. I still miss him.
Riaelise (and anyone else), I want you to know something. I was super close to my precious dad, and his death stuck with me for weeks - probably months - after he died of a stroke. I had to make the decision to unplug his life support in fact. It was horrible, horrible. He had a stroke on his brain stem. The neurologist told me that he could keep my dad alive but he couldn't give him his life back. My dad would have been furious with me. So after asking if he was in any pain (no), I went home and reread his medical directive and prayed about it and came back early the next morning and met with the doc and we decided to turn off the life support. He died a few hours later.
For MONTHS, all I could think about was his death. But slowly, those images receded as I remembered more and more about what a terrific dad he was, all those years and years and years of memories. Now, five or six years later, I nearly exclusively think about the happier memories. I still miss him.
I pray that you will experience the same thing.
Great post!
I'm at 3 and half months, and I think of my mother all day and night. I think of her death non-stop. I have this knot in my stomach and nervous energy that comes over me and last for hours. It is all normal, I know. As time passes, the grief will change. I was told this by everyone.
I think of my mother as she was after her stroke. For two years, she was a different person. No, I would not want her back like that. That comforts me a little bit.
A man who lost his parents years ago told me: You will always love your parents, but you will stop grieving them with real pain. He says it is more nostalgia than true intense pain of missing. It just takes a long time. If that is true, I don't know. It's true for him, but we're all different.
The idea is that we will heal somehow over time.
Peace.
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It was so sad to watch such a vibrant, strong woman get reduced to the state she was in when she died. I know it killed her inside to have me tend to her needs. She proudly lived on her own and still had moxie when she got diagnosed. Bit by bit though, she felt her life as she knew it slip away from her. Just breaks my heart.
