I posted some information on Facebook, but there are Nia students that are not on Facebook, but who read my blog. There are also yoga students who I am not friends with on FB who read my blog . . . and there are many of you who have sent love and support while my mom was dying. I am very grateful for all of the love, support, stories . . . and just everything that has been sent to my family and me. It has helped me more than you know. I will probably go back and tell the story of my mom’s last two years (or so) just because I really feel like sharing the story of the brave woman that she was. Also, it will serve as therapy for me and as a log. I will probably share more about my feelings on this whole “process of dying” that so many people just accept as the way it has to be. I do not agree nor do I feel it is an acceptable way for someone to spend their last days on this earth. The purpose of this post, though is to share with you that my mom died around 11:00 pm on Friday, April 11, 2014.
The hospital called me at a few minutes before 1:00 am on Saturday, April 12, 2014. So I keep thinking date of death is today, but I was told it was about 11:00 pm on Friday. I don’t know the exact time, but that is not all that important. What is important is that she is done with the twelve days of the “process”.
She went to the hospital on Saturday, March 22, 2014 because she could not breathe. They placed a tube in her throat to open the airway because they thought that they would be able to do more for her on the Monday. But her team of doctors decided that there really was nothing more they could do. One of her doctors was willing to perform a very risky surgery if my mom elected to go that route, but she did not. So she was told that she needed to pick a day to die . . . the conclusion reached by her medical team was that once the tube was removed her damaged trachea would collapse shortly there after and death would be relatively quick.
It was a common occurrence though, for my mother to not do anything according to what the doctors have previously experienced or think would happen. That is just how it has always been. She reacted badly to drugs that no one EVER had reactions to. She was always surprising her doctors and teaching them things by way of her body responding to treatments/procedures/etc differently than they had ever seen. This always served as a reminder to them, over and over, that each body is different.
The tube that was in her throat was thought to be keeping her throat open. As I said, the medical professionals thought once it was removed her throat would collapse. While the tube was hooked up to a ventilator it was rarely breathing for her. She was breathing on her own. Only once in a while — when she was tired — did the machine take over. And most often it was only for a few breaths. So she was able to breathe on her own, it was just an airway issue. Because trachea’s can’t be fixed or transplanted she was told she would die and that she needed to decide when that would be.
She sat in bed for 10 days contemplating death. All the while she worried about us — did we eat, we should go sleep, etc. She joked with us and allowed us to talk while she listened. The day for the scheduled extubation was stressful and nothing went as planned. In fact it was twelve days after the tube was removed that she died.
I want to emphasize that the hospital staff and my mom’s medical team was very kind and caring and they did all they could to make the dying process “comfortable”. My issue with the process is not with them nor the hospital. As I said, that is another post altogether, but I wanted to explain that she received good care.
We are now able to enter into the grieving stages of “after a loved one dies” . . . because up until now it was a horrific place of limbo. So, if you are able, please keep up all the wonderful stuff you have been doing. Please keep sending positive thoughts and prayers. Throw over that glitter, sparkle, and shine. I have really been lapping it up and I appreciate it so, so, so, so, so, so much.
Make a toast, take a bite, relish the breath . . . . .
Thank you.
Terre Pruitt's Blog 